Encounter(s) At The Fort

Sat in the middle of a housing estate and opposite a large retail park sits Fort Horsted in Chatham, Kent. The construction of the fort completed in 1889 after it took 9 years for a convict labour force from nearby Borstal Prison to build it. It was the largest of 5 forts designed to provide defence to the Dockyard from the possibility of invasion by the Napoleonic Army. Described as Palmerston’s follies due to divided opinion on the usefulness of land forts, a peacetime operation in 1907 demonstrated that the ring of forts, although not impregnable, were effective in delaying any attack of the dockyard.

Fort Horsted

Fort Horsted remained owned by the British Military and used as a small garrison barracks, until 1963 where it changed hands at regular intervals with Kent County Council, Ford UK, the Biber Group and Rochester Motor Company all being owners or tenants over time. The forts decline occurred in 1976 when a large fire broke out, burning for weeks and requiring 50 firefighters working full time at its peak.

In the 1990’s English Heritage and the Environment Agency issued the owners with an enforcement notice with a million pound liability to clear the site of the vegetation, abandoned vehicle and tyres. The site was put up for auction in response, being purchased by Avondale Environmental Services in 1997. Avondale worked with English Heritage to clear and restore the site enabling them to occupy in 2001. Now – aside from the frequent ghost hunt – it has been transformed into a business centre hosting local businesses including a recording studio.

Arriving at the fort I was met with the stark white stone lit by external floodlights. The windows, black in contrast as we congregated on the Heras fence lined drawbridge. Greeted like an old friend by Keith and his team we were led inside the fort and into our basecamp for the evening. It was explained that it would be an intimate evening as there were only 4 guests, 2 members of fort staff and the Ghostly Encounters UK Team including 3 trainees.

Signing the consent waivers and receiving an equipment input from Ed we congregated in the entrance tunnel grouped in a circle, holding hands, as Keith lit the candle and invoked a protection ritual to keep the group safe during our investigation. A strange noise could be heard throughout – which was eventually debunked as the rotating head of a ceiling mounted CCTV camera observing all that was going on around us.

Grabbing our equipment, we set off, our night vision destroyed due to the activation of a PIR activated spotlight, and we found ourselves blinking as were plunged back into the open air and darkness of a car park as we accessed the far-right area of the fort.

Finding ourselves in a series of rooms we broke off to the left, as Rem-Pods and cat balls were distributed. Calling out, the room felt crowded with the living and so the other half of the group spread out into the adjoining room. Hearing a surge of excitement within minutes it transpired that something had caused a cat ball to illuminate – which was the only activity that we could report in these rooms.

Returning back to the entrance corridor, and again being blinded by the automatic light, we charged on the central portion of the fort. Stopping at the end we considered how we felt. Looking at the arches in the wall opposite it appeared that a figure in the shadows was playing peek-a-boo, popping up on one side before disappearing and re-appearing in the adjacent arch. I called it out and this phenomenon was agreed by several others in the group with others feeling that they were being watched and observed from the top of the high wall.

The Tunnel

Advancing, and taking care on the unstable ground, we filed through the wide entrance way. As I walked past the arch where I believed I had seen the peek-a-boo ghost I heard a low growl, a woman walking next to me asked me if I said anything to which I told her that I had heard a low growl-like sound – a second witness had been found. The feeling of being observed continued and this may have been due to the amount of old furniture and equipment casting dark shadows as we processed through this area coupled with a healthy dose of paranoia.

As we stood in the space behind the arches, we called out for anything that wanted to communicate to knock or whistle. A metallic thud was heard but was more likely the other half of the team than anything supernatural.

The next stop was the first floor.

Alighting the right hand staircase I found myself on a narrow gantry with sentry holes every 6 foot or so. The experiment here was take a hole and then we went lights out. As I stood with the cool night air blowing through the gun port behind me I felt very unsettled. A light feeling of nausea ran through me as I felt I was being inspected. My body was drawn up to attention as in this position I did not feel like I wanted to be sick. This feeling may have been due to the environment I was stood in and this is how I should behave in this space – or it was due to something else. The feeling was shared amongst my fellow investigators, and we called a halt to this investigation.

Given the option of a spirit board in the room to the right of the gantry; or a vigil in the rooms to the left – I, and the other guests opted for the room on the right. Opening the board we found communication with an active, prankster – who stated he was previously stationed in the fort giving a jumble of letters as his name. Moving and twisting the planchette to make those whose fingers were attached have to walk around the board appeared to be his favourite game. Then a question from the woman next to me “This might sound like a strange question, but erm, are you human?” The planchette slid to indicate ‘No’. Our team leaders intervened on this line of questioning saying that it was not a question that we ask, and even in the red light of our torches I saw the interrogator’s cheeks flush. Asking this Puck-like spirit to step away to let anyone else who wanted to communicate with us saw us again dance around the board – so we moved to ‘Goodbye’ and thus ended our session with the spirit board.

Keith offered me the opportunity for a solo vigil in one of the side rooms adjacent to the gantry. Taking him up on the offer I entered the enclosed space and went lights out. Although alone – it did not feel like it. The intensified feeling of being observed grew stronger as the minutes ticked by, the echoes of the other investigators talking and calling out in the adjacent room grew quieter as I focused on how I was feeling. With time being called on this experience we returned to our positions by the gun ports on the gantry.

The time was about 22:30 as I took my post. The call for “Lights out” was made. I stood in the darkness – just feeling. Slowly the feeling of nausea returned, and began to build causing me to take a very loud intake and exhale of breath. “Was that you?” came the question from another member undertaking a solo vigil in the room where I had been previously. Slightly embarrassed as to how loud I must have been I admitted to the noise. The feeling was growing, causing me to bend over and place my hands on my knees as I attempted – much more quietly – to suck in enough air to quell it. A voice in the darkness asked if I was ok and if it was too much to ask whatever was causing it to step back.

As if being discovered the feeling abated, allowing me to stand up to my full height. I felt a cold encircling grip on my right wrist that caused a chill to cascade down my spine. An invisible hand – for want of a better term – had hold of me and I felt it pull, downwards at first, almost to pull me off balance. I heard a fellow guest at the other end of the gantry state that she felt compelled to approach the railing and go over the approximate 16 foot drop. She was advised strongly against it with lots of offers of help echoing into the pitch black.

My wrist felt like it was burning with the cold; and now it was being pulled towards the railing that separated me from a plunge into an abyss. Not wanting to fight something that I could only feel I shouted “Enough!” that continued to echo around the high-ceilinged room until the silence became a crushing force. In a somewhat quieter voice I called out that something had tried to pull me towards the railing, that my wrist felt sore but at least I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up anymore.

The experience felt very unnerving. I had no control of my wrist. What would have happened if my shout had not caused whatever had hold of me to release their grip? Finding my way back outside the cool night air helped to settle my thoughts. A cup of coffee and a large chunk of homemade pineapple cake later, the break was over. I was ready to go back into battle and find out more of the secrets of the fort.

The Gantry - I was stood in the closest alcove

Another march through the main tunnel back to where I had seen the peek-a-boo apparitions found us turning left and into a large enclosed room. A deployment of Rem-pods and cat balls later, we were calling out. A strange scraping sound was heard coming from the wall to my right, a sound that was heard by the majority present. A search of the wall found curls of white paint clinging to the

brickwork surface. A light brush of a curl replicated the sound that we heard. Theories of spiders, bugs, wind could not be debunked and so it was an incident of note – but nothing conclusive.

Then started the sudden departures several female members of the team. Stating that they did not like the feeling in the space. My calling out became more challenging – “are you picking on the females in the group because you think they are weaker?” was met with several ‘Oi’s’ as I hoped they had misheard my call rather than thought I was taking a cheap pop at the better sex. Telling whatever it was that was making my teammates uncomfortable I called out that they could have a go at me – it didn’t.

Staying in this room we set up a mirror and candle on a table. Our leaders asking if anyone was willing to sit for a scrying session, I took the seat. As I stared into my own reflection (which I think is the worst part of this divination process) The candle to my right flickered, rapidly causing a strobe like effect. The flame was bent completely to the left – there was no discernible breeze. The erratic nature of the flame caused a lot of conversation – until there was noticeable activity within the glass inform of me.

A group of investigators were stood far enough behind me to my right that I could not see them reflected. The started to comment on the facial changes they noticed, my forehead getting bigger; sideburns; full beard; dark beady eyes – even I had to make a wry comment about my piss-holes in the snow which elicited a polite laugh. I noticed that with every flicker of the flame the image I was staring at would change – a male with a pointed chin and very dark eyes; a slightly well fed male with sideburns and what looked like a top hat, back to pointed chin, back to sideburns – and then darkness. In the corner of my eye I could see the candle flame reaching out to me completely horizontal and then just a pair of eyes floating in the blackness of my reflection. Blinking, my reflection returned to what would be considered normal and simultaneously with one my fellow investigators I asked who was over my left shoulder.

A head had appeared as if looking over my left shoulder, an enquiring look on its face. I called to the team and asked if anyone had peered over me to which they confirmed that they hadn’t moved from where they were stood. Thanking the spirits and getting up from the chair – the candle was extinguished. Re-accustoming myself with the gloom lit by our red torches I spoke with the witness to the face over my shoulder. We both saw it appear in the mirror at the same time, with the same curious expression. So we concluded that something was taking an interest in what we were doing.

The next room felt flat and discovering that none of the four guests wanted to take a break we pushed on.

Fort Horsted felt like maze. Rooms within room, Corridors to nowhere and the biggest spiders and moths I had seen for a while. We found ourselves at the entrance to a long corridor, only wide enough for people to walk along in single file. And that is what two of us did. A fellow guest and myself traversed the tunnel, I was told to stop just over halfway and my colleague continued to the end. The air was still, punctuated by the hushed voices of the rest of the team where we had left them. It suddenly felt like something was charging down the tunnel towards. An icy feeling caused me to take a sharp intake of breath as if it went straight through me. My colleague at the far end reported feeling the same sensation moments later.

We returned back to the waiting team whilst the two other guests descended into the dark of the tunnel. Returning very quickly once they reached the end.

Adjacent to this tunnel was a corridor that led to no where – with ‘windowholes’ that looked into a square room. Holing myself into the tight space (careful not to disturb anything crawling on the walls) we went dark. Standing still I listened to the rest of the team calling out a brick-width away from me. The sounds coming from the room began to sound like I was underwater, taking on a muffled quality. As I stood looking around in the pitch black I orientated myself so I was facing the corridor entrance. In the darkness there appeared a humanoid shape, misty white against the darkness of its surroundings. ‘What was it?’ I thought as it was obliterated with the arrival of a red light from torch. Was it just my mind playing tricks on me in the dark or was something wandering why a bloke was hiding in the walls? I will never know.

Re-joining the rest, they continued calling out but received no activity on any of the equipment. Although it was dark – I could not see my hand in front of my face - I believed I could see the details of the walls, each brick shone with a white light. Keith reported that it sounded like he had cotton wool in his ears and I likened this experience with it sounding like being underwater where I was stood before.

The night almost at an end we returned to the rooms we started in. This time I took position in the space where the cat ball had previously illuminated. A mag light torch had been set up in the other room which, when unobserved, turned itself on.

As the clock ticked over to 01:00 it was time for the evening to come to a close. With the protection candle blown out I said my goodbyes and made my way home. Mrs J was awoken as a lid into bed next to her and sked me how my night had been. I recounted all that I had the energy and brainpower to recall and was stopped in my tracks when I told her about the feeling of my wrist being pulled. Mrs J asked me what time that happened – I said about 22:30. Mrs J had been woken up with bad dream – a dream that I was being dragged away from her.

The time she saw on the clock – 22:30.

Spirits Behind the Bar

Turning to social media I found and made contact with Swale Paranormal Investigators. After a short email exchange I was booked to attend their investigation of the Red Lion Pub on Sittingbourne’s High Street.

The Red Lion, Sittingbourne

The Landlord and Landlady of the pub had approached the team’s leaders reporting ghostly goings on; doors opening on their own, oppressive feelings in certain rooms and the pulling of bed covers. Buoyed by the report that during the team’s pre-investigation the spirits wanted to communicate it was not long before I was assembling with my fellow investigators in the courtyard outside the pub, as the evenings patrons were wishing us a good night.

After a comprehensive health and safety briefing and ‘white light’ protection we divided up, my group heading through the bar and kitchen; and upstairs to the living area. As we processed along a corridor the Landlady was stood by a closed door, stating very adamantly she would not be going in the room, which she opened for us. Our group being dividing in half I found myself in the ‘unfriendly’ room. After being told not to shut the window – as the unseen occupant does not like it – we settled into the space. Strategically placing some Rem-pods and EMF detectors we prepared for any activity that wanted to show itself.

As we started to talk and call out, I assembled my Chattergeist Touch rig. Connecting the battery pack and selecting the library mode. As always the group I found myself with were very interested in my toy and as we turned the lights out the room was bathed in the green glow of the very bright Rem-pod LED.

Inside the Green Room

As I got the group going I explained to anyone that would listen that we were here to find out about their stories, we meant no harm and came with absolute respect. I talked through the equipment that was dotted around the room including a cat ball that we had placed on the mantle piece. The Chattergeist started throwing out words including ‘Quantum’ and ‘Ball’. Thinking this could mean the flashing cat toys I urged any spirits to interact to which I received the word ‘Frights’. Agreeing that something causing the cat ball to flash may frighten us, we settled down awaiting something to happen.

‘Haemorrhoids’ and ‘Lymphoedum’ came up next, with the later of the two medical terms requiring me to use the QR reference code to ascertain its meaning – being a medical condition that causes swelling. The appearance of ‘Enlarge’ ‘Undressed’ ‘Elbow’ and ‘Dementia’ struck a personal chord with one of my group who explained that whilst she was getting changed she hurt her elbow and was worried about it as she was preparing for a run for a Dementia charity. As much as this could have been a coincidence or even not related, I don’t believe there is such thing as a coincidence.

Page 1 of the Word History

Allowing the Chattergeist to do its thing, I let it run, feeling very excited with amount of activity it was generating. The level of distrust from whatever spirit was choosing to interact with us was mirrored in the words generated by the Ghost Hunting Tools App that I activated – with my phone in airplane mode (obviously).

There was no activity on any of the other devices and even through our questioning we were unable to identify who was wishing to communicate. Only that the spirit was distrusting of our presence and either had medical knowledge or was afflicted with medical issues. Taking photographs in this room uncovered nothing of any note.

It was time for the groups to swap and, reunited with the other half of our team we assembled in the courtyard. Listening to the other half of the team talking about how the spirit of a female child had taken a liking to the one of the men in the group, and wanted to go home with him. We settled in to experience the court yard area.

The Courtyard

Introducing the Chattergeist Touch to those that had not met it upstairs I let it run again in library mode. The words produced had a very different tone from upstairs with large block of words being generated at a time. ‘Callous’, ‘Rescue’ ‘Tub’ and ‘Agonise’ was believed to relate to a fire that occurred when the pub was a hostelry causing the death of 2 boys within the wooden sheds we were sat next to.

‘Travelled’ ‘Energy’ Shadowy’ appeared as someone called out they had seen a non-human shadow moving around and an unnatural movement of the flags along the far fence. The last words to appears were ‘Investigating’ ‘Anonymity’ ‘Actions’ ‘Beholder’ as the group became increasing desperate for something to identify itself and provide some activity on a Rem-pod or cat ball.

Page 7 of the Word History

Time being called on our open-air vigil, after a short break we gathered in the front room of the public house where I sat with several others – including the object of the female child spirit’s desire, around a spirit board. The board was opened and immediately the activity stemmed around the phantom child’s need to be close to the man from before. After several minutes of the glass sliding to the corner of the board where he sat, someone watching (and operating an app similar to Ghost Hunting Tools) called out a name. This was too much for him and he jumped up from the table angry and clearly disturbed by what he was experiencing claiming that it was all rubbish – although his language was a little more course.

I felt sorry for him being targeted in this way by some unseen assailant and quickly after he sat back down we closed the board on our session and swapped seats with others who wished to place their finger on the glass sat atop the spirit board adorned with angelic imagery.

I left this séance and returned outside where someone was using a spirit box – a hacked auto scan radio that jumped from frequency to frequency to allow the other side to manipulate for communication. She had been getting an aggressive male, which matched the tone of the words produced by the Chattergeist in the same area from earlier – and when probed into their identity would produce bursts of classical music.

The words coming out of the box were chauvinistic and so I was asked to have a go to see if a male influence would change the dynamic of the conversation. It did not and being met with the similar bursts of orchestral music with a few choice words, a change of approach was needed. Not having to have been confrontational to the spirits before, but feeling riled up enough from what I had experienced, my stern approach appeared to work. Through the questioning we discovered that it was not an adolescent female that had been so infatuated with one of the team, but our communicator who had decided to have some fun at his expense. The speaker wanted to demonstrate his power and cunning and cause suffering to the poor man – and it appears he was successful.

Explaining our findings to the evenings victim he stated that he felt better about his experience, but having to spend his time at the pub was a little apprehensive that the friendly spirit that he thought wanted to spend time with him was something with a more malicious intent. This called an end to the nights investigation and on saying thank you and good night I walked out onto the abandoned High Street and set of home – feeling a little troubled in how even in death people will lie to get what they want.

I am an affiliate of Dimension Devices. Although I will receive a percentage of sales made through my affiliate link (https://dimensiondevices.co.uk/shop.php?affiliate=sjp), my reviews and accounts of the Chattergeist Touch are my own honest opinions.

Day At The (Haunted) Museum

Abandoning Mrs J to the retail delights of Nottingham, I set off following Google Maps across the busy city centre and up a steep hill. My destination was the Haunted Museum who promised over 1000 haunted items contained within their premises on Derby Road.

Arriving just after opening at 11:00 I found myself signing a waiver and paying my admittance before pushing my way through the entrance gates and uncovering the secrets within. After taking in the horse drawn hearse, which at its previous home was recorded moving of its own accord – the CCTV proof being shown on a TV screen close by – I waited for the green light to descend into the basement.

The catacomb like subterranean area of the museum, discovered and excavated after they had moved in, has motion activated recordings and light effects that show off dybbuk boxes and human ashes, sealed in polythene bags enshrined in the walls with sticky labels and photographs being the only means of identifying its previous owner. Being alone in the claustrophobic crypt amongst the human remains and incarcerated spirits with the disembodied voices coming from the hidden speakers was an unusual feeling. The feeling of not being on my own did not lift as I returned to the ground level and found myself surrounded by trepanned skulls, taxidermized animals and a large display case with the label “DO NOT OPEN”, for inside with broken seals was a dybbuk box.

I had been fascinated by The Dark Paranormal episode entitled the Dybbuk Box, in which the story of an imprisoned spirit had been released after its purchase and attempt at restoration. Efforts to sell the box found it to be returned – with one customer leaving it on the shop’s doorstep with a note. The term Dybbuk derives from Jewish folklore, that a disembodied human spirit, because of its former sins, would restlessly wander until finding sanctuary in the body of a living host. To protect the living from these tortured spirits and the bad luck they would bring, they would be contained within boxes, along with cups, beads and religious items that would assist in the containment of the malcontent spirit.

The hope, therefore, that the glass display cabinet can provide an element of protection for their guests and visitors is reinforced by the simple sign. After alighting the stairs and working my way through a room full of dolls I found myself in front of another television displaying CCTV. The screen showed the aforementioned glass display case and then something unseen cause a skeleton to fall and break. The CCTV video presentation was surrounded by Victorian-style display cases of haunted artefacts with neat labels describing each exhibit, its provenance and story that it puts the British Museum to shame.

My tour took me past Regan’s Bed, and an exorcist’s box. The little details made this display shine right down to the upside-down crucifixes adhered to the walls. Encountering a hen weekend – and congratulating the bride-to-be I found myself in a room of clowns and side show attractions, surrounded by mirrors. In this room was an interesting dolls house which was full of live feed cameras, and I spent several minutes observing, just hoping to witness something unseen move an object or disturb the flour liberally distributed across the floors.

Returning to ground level I passed a wall advising the wearing of hard hats beyond this point – knowing that I look foolish in any type of hat, due to having a square head – I chose to ignore this suggestion. The room opened up to display several holes in the wall and on reading the display I discovered that after moving in the owners discovered a grave marking behind the wall, which they kept and added a medical grade skeleton to enhance the display.

I thoroughly enjoyed my visit, the presentation of the displays was brilliant and the love and care for these artefacts clearly comes across in the manner in which they are shown. After leaving I felt the urge to have to address any spirits that wanted to follow me, informing them that they were to remain at the museum and that following me would not be as interesting as waiting around and engaging with the visitors and paranormal investigators that attend the museum and its ghost nights.

Due to the Museum's No Photograph rules I have shamelessly taken the images in this post from their website - www.thehauntedmuseum.co.uk

Ghosts, Witches and Vampires

I suppose anywhere that was as frequently invaded as the North East of Britain would want to defend their homes, families and possessions. Here in Northumberland – as Hadrian’s wall proved ineffective against the attempts of William Wallace and his supporters – that means castles.

When I was younger I had a Lego castle that came with a glow-in-the-dark ghost mini-figure that lived in a prison cell. So if plastic castles have plastic ghosts, do real castles have real ghosts?

In answer to this, and not being able to investigate every castle in a 20 mile radius I will look at the castles that I managed to visit and some of the paranormal stories that are attached to them.

On my way to my night at Chillingham Castle, my route took me past the visually stunning Warkworth Castle. Occupying a loop of the River Coquet the original timber castle of the mid 12th century was left undefended during the Scots invasion of 1173. Moving on to 1327 and after a cash injection by Edward II the now fortified castle had withstood two unsuccessful attempts against its walls. Within 20 years the castle would fall under the control of the Percy family and so it would remain until its custody would be granted to the Office of Works (now English Heritage) in 1922.

Warkworth Castle

Home to the spirit of a young man seen running along the walls and the obligatory phantom of a grey lady allegedly identified as Margaret Neville, Warkworth Castle is reported to have a paranormal effect on children and animals; as dogs seem to be wary of entering and children suddenly becoming quiet and calm (not a phenomenon that appeared to affect those around me).

The haunting of Warkworth is a tragic love story of knights, fair maidens, trials and kidnap. The protagonist of this tale is Sir Bertram de Bothal who remains today in spectral form, a little way down the river in a carved-out rock or cave, known as Warkworth Hermitage. Sir Bertram’s tale is set in the 14th Century, the powerful Percy family were in residence and Bertie was in love. The subject of this knight’s desire was the Lady Isobel Widdrington, who set a challenge to Bertram to prove his love by sending him into battle with an engraved helmet, promising him her hand in marriage when he had proved his love and bravery. Receiving news that Bertram was wounded and feeling guilty that her trial had placed him in danger, she left the safety of her home to find her true love – only to be captured and imprisoned. Sir Bertram so overcome with grief and anger vowed to find and return her and so undertakes a series of covert searches of the land. His emotions and fears turning him desperate he goes dark and undertakes a black ops style surveillance mission uncovering his fair lady’s location and witnessing her abseiling a tower assisted by a kilted man. Unbeknown to our hero, his brother (disguised as a highlander) is in the process of his own rescue mission which Bertram interrupts – and depending on the account, either; upsets the horse which Isobel is riding causing her to fall and hit her head, killing her; or as he is about to attack his brother he delivers a fatal blow to Isobel as she dives between them. After the dust has settled and his catastrophic mistake is discovered as well – as the corpses of his brother and his betrothed, Sir Bertram retreats to a nearby cave where he dies of a broken heart releasing his spirit to forlornly walk the hermitage and castle grounds for eternity.

Consulting the English Heritage guidebook, I pulled up next to a row of cottages and a medieval church to park in the car park/lay by of Edlingham Castle. A short walk through a couple of gates and fields I found myself at the Grade 1 listed ruin. Once the manor house of the de Feltons who took over the property in 1294 and heavily fortified it, as part of their home security plan, due to the threat of Scottish insurgence. Now the remains of this once impressive structure show the floor plan of the house that was within the shadow of the solar tower clinging to a remaining wall with metal braces to assist its fight with gravity.

Edlingham Castle

The original building was recycled in the 1660’s to construct a nearby farmhouse leaving only the solar tower and the bodies of the former residents residing in the consecrated grounds next to where I had parked, as testament to what once stood here.

Among the reports of clothing being pulled by unseen hands, phantom footsteps heard from non-existent floorboards, strange floating light, shadow people and wails, the most famous paranormal tale of Edlingham Castle derives from the apparent abilities of the living rather than an apparition.

John and Jacob Mills, giving their address as Edlingham Castle, were key witnesses in the trial of Margaret Stothard. Answering the 1683 charge of Maleficium under the Witchcraft Act 1562, Margaret found herself accused of causing harm by witchcraft.

The evidence provided by the Mills brothers witnessed Margaret approaching a couple begging. Ignored or rebuffed by the couple Margaret has waved a white thing at them three times and parted ways. The next day the couple’s daughter became unwell. The young child was crying that a woman was trying to break her back and push out her heart before taking her final breath.

John testified that one night whilst laying in bed he heard a strong gust of wind blast past his window and felt a heavy weight fall onto his chest directly above his heart. With a noise, like the sound of a cat’s cry, a light appeared at the end of his bed with the vision of Margaret Stothard at its centre. This entity appeared, apparently, several times with each appearance leaving him so terrified that the hairs of his head stood on end.

The Magistrate, Henry Ogle, on hearing these allegations; and that Margaret had also healed a child by magically sending what ailed them into a calf (who later died), decided them to be unfounded and threw out the case – however the residents of Edlingham Castle had sentenced Margaret to be forever known as the Witch of Edlingham.

Our next story is as old as the castle it comes from. Alnwick (pronounced Ann-Ick) Castle is the second largest inhabited castle in the UK having served as a military outpost, teaching college, a refuge for evacuees, a family home and most famously as part of the exterior of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, in its 950-year history.

Alnwick Castle Credit Mrs J

The tale of the Vampire of Alnwick was documented by the medieval chronicler William de Newburgh in Historia rerum Anglicarum, and like his contemporary (and rival) Geoffrey of Monmouth, William was not averse to exaggeration and putting his own macabre spin to keep his audience interested.

The legends purport that our ‘vampire’ was the Lord of Alnwick, subsequently demoted by de Newburgh – as he probably didn’t want to cause offence to the powerful de Vescy family who sat at Alnwick at the time – who fell from the castle roof, breaking his neck, investigating his wife’s extra-marital nocturnal activities.

Returning from the grave, the vampire, would be seen prowling the castle grounds to wreak chaos and mayhem; spreading pestilence, disease and death on the local peasants and their livestock. The reign of terror came to a head on Palm Sunday, following a series of nights where the villagers had barricaded themselves in their home, when a priest rallied a pitchfork and flaming torch wielding mob to seek out the lair of the haunting evil. On discovering the tomb, a putrefied body was unearthed and when struck by a spade gushed with blood – giving credence to the story that the re-animated corpse had been feasting on blood. After being dragged to the edge of the village the body was burned and as the smoke rose into the sky the curse of Alnwick was lifted – The Vampire had been slain.

Falls from height, appear to be a common cause of death at Alnwick Castle, which has – as all good historical places – its own Grey Lady to encounter. Alnwick’s Grey Lady is said to be a teenaged maid who succumbed to her untimely death through the application of gravity as she fell through a service chute. The fall may have been survivable but unfortunately for our young casualty a further force was applied to her broken body – as a dumb waiter crushed her. The spirit of this unfortunate maid continues to roam the corridors and passages beneath the castle with reports of sighting of a full-bodied apparition and the feeling of sadness caused to those who encounter her.

Our last castle, purported to be the site of Joyous Guarde and home to Lancelot du Lac – is Bamburgh Castle. Standing guard above the beautiful Northumberland coastline for over 1,400 years it has been a key defensive location since the Norman conquest, housing Kings and nobility within its rooms and dungeons.

Bamburgh Castle Credit Mrs J

The most famous phantom resident of the castle is the Pink Lady and had nothing to do with the species of apple. Bamburgh’s Pink Lady is said to be a centuries old princess whose choice of suitor was not to her father’s taste. The young man, who had been so captivated by her beauty was sent away, overseas for seven years, by the king, in an effort to quell the raising passions between them. The princess descended into melancholy, with her depression growing every day she was parted, until her father informed her that his spies had discovered he had married another. Throwing money at the problem, the king commissioned a luxurious pink dress to be created for his daughter to cheer her up. This plan failed, as on the final fitting, the princess climbed to the highest battlement and threw herself off into the abyss, landing on the rocks below.

As a tragic twist, the young suitor returned – and although his fate is not known, the Pink Lady returns every seven years, dressed in her death shroud, to wander the castle before heading to the beach to stare forlornly out to see in the hope of one last glimpse of the love of her life.

Aside from sightings of knights in full armour, soldiers from WW2, phantom shadows and the spectre of Dr John Sharp, who having led the restoration of the castle in the 18th century, refused to leave; Bamburgh Castle is also home to Green Jane. Named after the emerald-coloured cloak she is seen wearing, Jane is said to have fallen to her death with the jeers of the castle guard ringing in her ears as she desperately pleaded for food with her baby in her arms. Visitors to the castle have reported sightings of Jane carrying a bundle in her arms who cries out on stumbling down the narrow steps close to the clock tower. Jane is never found but the haunting sounds of a baby crying are heard throughout the castle.

Although not witnessing any of these ghosts myself, my journey home was punctuated by two interesting occurrences –

The first was that after driving through South Shields, home of the South Shields Poltergeist and the theories of contagion documented by Darren Ritson (which we will explore more of in future blogs). I received a call from Phil. Now I did not recognise the number and could not find a placed call on checking my call log, but Phil had received a missed call from my mobile about the time I was driving through South Shields and on calling me back was as mystified as to who I was, as I was about him.

30 East Drive, Pontefract

The second came as I saw the exit to Pontefract, and quickly tapping in East Drive into the Sat Nav, it was not long before my detour found me stood outside number 30 – home of the Black Monk of Pontefract. As I lined up the shot to take a quick photo for posterity, I believe I saw I darkened shape move the curtain in the upstairs window. There is of course a number of rational causes for this, the neighbour/caretaker conducting her duties, paranormal investigators moving in, my own want to see something at this alluring location. Either way the address of 30 East Drive, Pontefract is definitely on my to do list.

Chill(ingham) Down My Spine

Having booked my spot on one of Chillingham Castle’s rare ghost hunting masterclasses I was excited to experience what the castle’s residents had to offer, as well as learn from their resident paranormal investigator.

After typing in the castle’s postcode into my Sat Nav, I checked the email instructions again to make sure I knew where I was going. My journey took me past Warkworth Castle (although that’s not how I read the road signs) which I mentally added to my itinerary, through Alnwick and soon I was looking for the signs for Chillingham Cattle, turning right after the ford and driving up a gravel driveway to park alongside the imposing castle walls.

The sky began to darken as I walked towards the front door and met some of my fellow guests who would be investigating this now looking imposing building.

Chillingham Castle

Chillingham Castle has a bloody history. Occupying a strategic position during Northumberland’s border feuds with the north, the captured Norman stronghold was further fortified with battlements to assist in its defence of the frequent Scottish attacks. The site being a home to the Grey and Bennet families, a prison, a battleground and a place of torture in its long history.

Although remaining a family home, the Castle reportedly retains the spirits of those who lived and died within its walls. Famously the Blue (or Radiant) Boy, the White Pantry ghost and the restless spirit of John Sage all reside here but some merely remain, as Tennyson stated, as “Impalpable impression on the air.” So who will I discover.

Whilst standing, talking to a really nice family from Blackpool who were celebrating their son’s birthday, on the green outside the front door. My attention was grabbed by the flashing of lights and the sound of banging coming from the top floor. Grabbing my phone and switching to video recorder I managed to capture a window, seemingly opening and then shutting on its own. On speaking with a member of staff I was informed that the apartment was empty tonight and it was likely that the spirits of the castle were wanting to welcome us with a spectacle of their abilities – or maybe to warn us of their power.

As we stood digesting this information, a man dressed smartly in black with a white beard called for our attention. Inviting us into the open courtyard beyond the front door and letting us assemble in the café, he introduced himself as Richard the resident paranormal investigator.

A whistlestop tour of the vast array of equipment on display was conducted. EMF detectors, Spirit boards and boxes and rem-pods of varying designs and styles were exhibited and explained. A presentation on Electronic Voice Phenomenon was very useful and appeared surprising easy and noted for future use. Richard showed us his full spectrum camera and photographs of ghosts captured. This device, a hacked SLR camera could, captured a greater array of light as the Infra-Red and Ultra-Violet filters had been removed – this was quickly added to my wish list.

The talk concluded with dowsing rods. 2 bent metal rods that could give indicative answers and something I had used back in Tonbridge Castle. Volunteering to use them again I was handed a set and we were off to our first stop of the night – The Torture Chamber.

As we walked through the corridors we were met with a large room, bedecked with instruments that were designed to illicit confession from even the hardiest Scotsman or fulfil the sadistic whim of the resident torturer, John Sage.

John ‘Dragfoot’ Sage is considered the evilest spectre in the whole of the UK. In life Sage enjoyed the freedom to indulge his darkest desires as long as it fell under a royal warrant. Reportedly Sage was a handsome but hateful soldier ending his career as a Lieutenant in King Edward I’s army. Hate was not reserved solely for William Wallace and his rebellious Scots but was freely gifted to those in authority, his own men and even his horse. Sage, during a violent skirmish with his enemy from the north, suffered a career ending injury to his leg and was due to his reputation made chief jailor, interrogator and torturer at Chillingham.

Hatred and a thirst for revenge fuelled Dragfoot’s new role and Scottish men, women and children were soon queued up to receive his specialised interview techniques, mostly involving fire. Sage wore a hood made of the blackened skin of his victim’s and he was reputedly not without a fresh supply with his turnover rate being approximated at 200 a month.

Sage appears to be running a 24/7 death machine with stretching racks, expanding metal pears, a chair of nails and devils claws at his disposal. The preferred choice of equipment, however, was a cage that would fit closely to his victim’s body and allowed him to slowly cook them over an open fire.

The whimper that was the end of the Scottish rebellion saw Edward return to the south and Sage’s customer base dwindled. Those that he had kept alive were ordered to be released, and released they were – into the courtyard where a bonfire had been prepared and the exits sealed. The children of the ‘released’ prisoners were however separated from their parents and spared the agonising death by fire - to instead be culled by John’s own hand one-by-one with a small axe, their bodies thrown into the raging fire post mortem.

His torturous nature also transferred to the bedroom (not wanting to kink shame) where choking got him off. A night of passion with Mary Charlton (reports say guest but her ability to leave the castle is

unconfirmed) went too far and she breathed her last with his hands around her throat, spreadeagled on the stretching rack. Charlton’s father, a powerful chief demanded that justice for his daughter was carried out and Edward handed the Butcher of Chillingham Castle over to the Charlton family who publicly hanged him with a short rope (to cause suffocation rather than instant death) before cutting at his naked body, removing fingers, toes, ears, nose and genitals and throwing the mutilated carcass into a cess pit.

Imagine my delight then, stood in the pitch black surrounded by Dragfoot’s playthings, when Richard called out “John Sage! Is there anyone here you feel an affinity or attachment to?” And the glowing ends of my dowsing rods crossed.

The reaction of my fellow investigators did nothing to quell the disquieting feeling I had. Their mutterings and observations were silenced by the brightest of purple flashes to my left and above the heads of the family from Blackpool. Richard asked “Did anyone see that?” The excitement in the room increased when we were told that he had never seen anything like it before. A search of the wall uncovered no identifiable source of this strange illumination. The spirits of the castle were definitely with us now.

Peter was the spectre that was accredited with this phenomenon. As Richard called out for him to come forward and make himself known the Rem-Pod at the front of the group lit up and sounded. It was explained that Peter was a malevolent spirit who was not adverse to physical contact, grabbing guests and hitting members of the investigation team.

As time was moving on we were divided into groups to look at different areas of the castle. My group was stationed in the dining hall, where a scrying mirror was set up. Richard re-joined our group as we began to see yellow orbs darting around the ceiling of the room. Further attempts to communicate with Peter were made through the dowsing rods and a strong smell of what I would describe as cordite or the smell after a firework party permeated the room. The mirror would go unused as the occurring phenomena took more of our interest – and I was happy that I would not have the chance to look into the eyes of the castles Butcher if he were to continue his interest in me.

Dining Room 1

Dining Room 2

Dining Room 3

The group in the attic were reporting some fantastic communication with the female spirits of the castle. They reported that Sally and Eleanor were coming through and responding to EMF detectors. We regrouped and squeezed into the space. Armed with dowsing rods the resident spirits selected myself and 2 others in the group to be part of a human pendulum experiment.

The human pendulum relies on an individual standing between two others to serve as a conduit for communication. The direction of sway of this central person indicates a positive or negative answer. The other two are there as part of the heath and safety risk assessment to make sure our ‘pendulum’ doesn’t fall on their face.

As interesting as this experiment is, and I would repeat it, it relies heavily on a lot of human factors. To reduce this human subconsciousness, I maybe would add an element of sensory deprivation or disorientation which would assist in validating this method.

The energy in the room was feeling charged, bangs and taps could be heard from the corners of the room. This could have been caused for a number of reasons; the number of people, the environment, rodents, external noise, creaking of the wooden structure. The final show of the room was activation of the K2 EMF detector which gave us a show of yellow LED’s.

Thanking the spirits and informing them that they could not follow us home as they had to remain within the castle, we walked back to the café. The walk took us through the dining room, in which

there were two bats flying around – were these the sources of what we perceived to be orbs when we were last in here?

Saying thank you and goodbye to Richard I found myself back outside the front doors. Looking up I realised what they meant by Dark Sky Areas – as due to the lack of light pollution the universe was spread out on the black tablecloth of sky above me.

Dark Skies over Chillingham

A review of the few photographs that I took in the dining hall shows two points of light. I took three photos in quick succession, the first showing 2 points, the second 1 point and nothing in the third. The lights looked very different from the sweeping ‘orbs’ I saw with my eyes and the ‘orb’ activity was not seen when I took the pictures.

I will let you draw your own conclusions.