Stories

THIS PHOTOGRAPH WAS TAKEN JUST AROUND THE CORNER

FROM MY CHILDHOOD HAUNTED HOME. I AM STANDING ON

AN OLD RAILWAY BRIDGE THAT IS NO LONGER USED.

FOR OBVIOUS REASONS I CANNOT SHOW A PHOTO OF THE

EXACT HOUSE, PEOPLE ARE LIVING THERE STILL. HOWEVER

LIKE I SAID, THE HOUSE IS JUST AROUND THE

CORNER!

A Haunting in Harborne – My Own Experiences.

I began B.G.A.H because ever since childhood I have been fascinated by ghosts and the paranormal. There is a reason for this which I would like to write about.

It is my belief that spirits are all around us and that sometimes they appear to us, either intentionally or perhaps we catch them unawares as they go about their daily business.

I am quite sure that some people are much more likely to encounter the paranormal than others. This is because they are sometimes able to “tune in” to the spirit world.

They possess an ability which I think that I, and some members of my family have. This ability to “tune in” is not with us constantly but seems to happen in certain places that, for some reason, have a strong attraction for paranormal activity.

My family and I lived for many years in such a place.

Back in the 1960’s my parents bought an old five bedroomed house in Harborne. For decades it had apparently been owned by a lady who rented out the bedrooms to lodgers while she lived downstairs.

Hundreds of people must have passed through this house, each one leaving little traces of their feelings and emotions - little bits of energy that perhaps a ghost could use to help manifest itself.

Strange things began to happen in this house when my dad got out his saw and sledgehammer and began an ambitious programme of DIY.

Did all this noisy commotion, together with a vibrant young family, awaken the interest of certain spirits?

Although I was very young at the time, I can definitely remember a very odd and oppressive atmosphere in the house.

My older siblings say that one of the first strange experiences was hearing muffled, hushed voices around them. Sometimes it seemed that there were dozens of voices chattering away as if at some distant party.

We also heard footsteps above us which my dad dismissed as “pigeons in the loft”. Pretty big pigeons, I thought. (My dad could always be relied upon to come up with a rational explanation. What was happening, even when it was really scary did not seem to affect him).

My mother had a very frightening experience while she was laid up in bed suffering from laryngitis. For weeks she was unable to talk. One day, when she thought the house was empty, she heard somebody shuffling about just outside her bedroom. She naturally assumed it either my dad or one of us. Somebody came in and sat at the end of the bed. When she turned around to see who it was she was shocked to see a complete stranger sitting there.

This man looked at her and said “talk. You can talk”. She hid beneath the covers and, after what seemed like an agonisingly long time, she heard the man leave. Now, I do realise that this event can be dismissed as a nightmare. However, my mom always thought that this was a “real” experience and it bothered her for the rest of her life.

It could be that she had the rare and dubious pleasure of being spoken to by a ghost. Oh, and by the way, she regained her voice shortly afterwards.

This was not the only ghostly visitor to my mom’s bedroom. On more than one occasion she saw an old grey haired woman walk across the room and bend down as if to pick something up. She then carried on walking before disappearing. The woman was wearing a long black dress and an apron.

A relative saw a similar figure downstairs standing, rather curiously, behind the television in the corner of the room. This relative, a soldier, was not given to making things up.

My sisters say that sometimes, during the night, they would be slapped or scratched. One of them once saw an arm, attached to an invisible body, making its way down the stairs.

There was also typical poltergeist activity. I have a vivid memory of a plastic beaker, pink with white spots, lifting itself from the kitchen table and dropping to the floor. This was not the only kitchen utensil with a mind of its own. The sugar bowl would sometimes disappear and then be found at the top of the stairs, contents still intact.

On one occasion flames were seen coming from a waste paper bin – only to vanish as quickly as they appeared.

Cats and dogs are great ghost detectors and ours were no exception. The dogs would often growl at an unseen presence. They hated to be left alone and preferred to be in the garden rather than the house (and these were tough German Shepherds).

I was glad when we eventually moved out and life became a bit more normal. The ghosts in our new house were far too lazy to bother us.

Although a lot of what we experienced was scary and unpleasant, we were never completely petrified or overwhelmed by it all. I think this is because, on some sub-conscious level, we were able to accept these experiences and not be intimidated by them.

We left that house when WE wanted to and not when the ghosts did.

Every time I pass our old house I seem to see a “for sale” sign. I wonder why?