I was reminded recently of something from the past that I don’t often think or talk about much now. I suppose a lot of us have an interest in the whole area of ghosts and spirits. For sure we’ve all heard ghost stories and they make great movies ! If you ask someone have they ever had a ghostly experience, you’ll probably get four different reactions:
- The ‘absolutely I had the greatest ghost experience ever’ type
- The ‘I’m not sure’ type
- The ‘Definitely not, they don’t exist’ type
- The Silent Type
From my point of view, I believe there is definitely something to it and I’ve always been interested in hearing about experiences people have had. I don’t talk about it much as reactions can range from significant unease to looks that suggest the only thing paranormal is that you’ve got two heads. But there are times when you will chat with someone genuinely interested and then the stories come out.
Well as I said, recently on Twitter I was chatting with @Angpang on the subject and I decided to blog a few events I was aware of or had experienced. The first one refers to a personal experience linked to a particular place I used to visit as a child. My earliest memory of the experience would have been from when I was four and continued until my early twenties. As this story spans a long time with many experiences, I will tell you about the earliest one and maybe write another entry to tell you how it ended, as it did come to an end eventually.
The Dark Shed
I was born on the north side of Dublin, 1968, one of four, three boys and a girl. I was the last. My mother came from a farm in North County Dublin and my father, well, effectively Dromcondra. We have always had strong country links as my Father’s family were from County Limerick, so country and farming was always involved with growing up. Every Saturday, and later changed to Sunday, we would go to my mother’s home place. My parents in the early days would help on the farm with the other family members and spouses, the army of cousins would play around the farm yard and fields. These were the days when we had real summers, with the dust rising from the yard as fifteen or so kids ran around playing chasing, hide & go seek and sometimes football. They were fun days which gradually changed as less and less cousins appeared and the parents ultimately stopped helping on the farm, the visits moved to Sunday, the day of rest, and card games were the main event.
But in the early years when the play was fun, hide and go seek was one of the big favourites. On a farm yard, in fact it was a double yard, there were sheds, barns and machinery to hide among. Of course there were the fields bordering on the yards and an orchard, which our Grandfather used to always get annoyed with if we strayed there. The game would always start in the back yard. It was bigger and had the ‘New’ barn, made from the modern corrugated style that had started appearing around the country. The front yard was older and was bordered on one side by old sheds made from thick hand made clay blocks, white washed every few years. Another side was an open fronted storage area with a corrugated roof, a wall separated the road on the third side and the house faced into the yard on the fourth side.
The old stone sheds were the most interesting to me. You just got a sense that they were from a different time, and apparently they were. Originally there had been a another farm house on the site and where the front yard was now, used to be the old farmstead. In fact at the end of the sheds, in the corner where the open side met, was apparently the site of the old house itself. I always had an interest in history and the notion that other people walked the area a hundred years before fascinated me. That last shed was where my uncle used to keep a lot of his work tools. It was small and awkward to get into and around.
On the day I can remember, there was a large gang of cousins and the noise levels were high as running and shouting were the order of the day. In addition, the potato harvest was in the field right beside the yards so the tractors and harvesters added to the commotion. It was a sunny hot day and the air was flat without a puff of wind. Ice creams were produced to try and cool down the crazy kids, and as expected, a game of hide and go seek started.
I felt I had the ideal spot as it seemed very few of the cousins ever ventured into the last shed in the front yard. I raced out of the back yard where the count had started and down to the shed. Climbing over some old machinery that seemed to be placed there almost as an obstacle to prevent entry, I pushed the broken wooden door a little further in and slipped through the entrance.
Then it happened, immediately, with no warning, nothing. There was total silence the minute I entered the shed. All the noise of screaming and running, machinery banging and clattering just beyond the shed vanished. I stopped, in the middle, looking at the far wall. As I mentioned, I was probably about four, but even at that age the shed seemed small. There were no windows. The roof of the shed was low, even for my small stature. The back wall was only about ten feet away and to my right, well it just seemed to be dark. I could hear absolutely nothing and the air was so heavy I was breathing slowly as I stood.
Eventually I turned facing the black side of the shed and a strong sensation came over me that someone was there, just watching me. I couldn’t move and gradually I felt that it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. I tried to strain my eyes to see who it might be. But I couldn’t see a shape, and as much as I tried I wasn’t sure if it was in front of me or to one side, standing or sitting. I listened carefully, but there was no sound, no breathing, just nothing, but someone.
What happened next is what really stayed with me. The feelings I sensed from the hidden person watching me became angry, resentful and very unwelcoming. Yet I stood staring into the dark, unable to move until finally I felt I couldn’t breathe anymore. I turned suddenly and scrambled out the door. I was almost deafened by the noise as I left. The harvest machinery was rattling beyond the sheds and I could hear cheering from the front yard. I stood, looking back at the small door, expecting an angry someone to come chasing after me. But nothing happened.
Suddenly I heard a shout from my uncle. Not a man I had often seen angry but he was shouting mad at me now. He wanted to know why was I in the shed and that I should never go in it as there were tools and things lying around that made it very dangerous. I remember thinking that there were plenty of places like that on the farm but there was never a problem going into any of those sheds. As I looked at him giving out, I started to cry. He was shocked and a little guilty as he tried to console me and explain in a more calmer manner why not to go into the shed. But he didn’t know the real reason for the tears. As he put his arm around me I knew that the sun was still beating down but I was trembling and freezing. He noticed this and seemed puzzled, walking me back to the front yard where more ice cream had arrived.
I didn’t play much more that day and was glad when we prepared to go home. As usual, it was well after midnight and the card games were finished. We climbed into the car. There was very little light outside the house, just what the kitchen cast and the rest came from the clear starry night. I glanced towards the end of the front yard, now invisible in the night, and sensed that what came with the dark was the ability for that person to leave the shed. I felt we were all been watched as we prepared to leave, and we were not wanted.
It was some years after I learned of the events that had happened when the old house was there. To this day it’s still something I would like to research further and discover the true details, but what I was told was that there had been a brother and sister living there. Apparently the sister had an admirer who used to call. On one occasion, something happened and the woman was found murdered in a field across the road. It was thought that the brother had become angry with the constant visits of her admirer and the effect it was having on the farm, particularly the possible ownership, always a worry in times gone by. He had argued and struck her, as there were signs in the house that there had been a fight. She fled, and he caught her in the field. Still in a rage he beat her to death. The brother was arrested, convicted and hanged for the crime. The admirer left Ireland and went to a new life in Australia. But the brother always protested his innocence and it is said that the admirer admitted his guilt before his death many years later in Australia.
You had me enthralled from the start. What a story. Personally, I wouldn’t be a huge believer in ghosts. My grandfather told me about his experiences with ghosts and spirits and he was a very straightforward man, so I do believe that he had encounters.
Looking forward to next installment!
Wow that’s quite a story, well told. I could picture the scenes perfectly as you told them.
It would be fascinating to look into the archives and see who did live on the farm and if a murder did take place.
Glad I inspired you to tell the story.
I can’t wait for the next installment.
Alas my supernatural blog is not to be. I asked my mother if I could talk about her experiences with the ouija board and she said no, because they were too terrible, and she would worry that my writing about it would encourage others to give it a try.
So you’re on your own…
Thanks for that. I understand your Mam’s concerns – I’m not a big fan of bringing it on !!
Although, as you’ll hopefully read in the second part of this, sometimes you just have to invite them !!
Lovely piece – looking forward to the next one!
Limerick roots – we’ll make a Lunster of you yet!
What a great read! Very captivating, as I am a huge believer in ghosts – I saw one as a child…but don’t wish to see one again anytime soon!
I’m somewhere between your third and fourth types but that was still a cracking read!
Fabulous tale – and so well told! My first real experience with ‘the supernatural’ happened near you: at a youth hostel in the Wicklow Hills when I was 14 (1970). We were bicycling with friends for a couple of weeks, and one of the youth hostels was an old army barracks?! It was a huge, desolate building, that could only be reached by pushing our bikes along a dried up river bed?! And we were the only ones there, except for the manager. Creepy… creepy. Well, that evening …
Thanks for the comment.
If I’m not mistaken I know the hostel you are referring to and in my post https://inshin.wordpress.com/2009/08/07/the-slaughtered-lamb/ that is the very place we were heading to that night !!!
Great story, spooky stuff, and for some crazy reason I now have the theme from Ghostbusters stuck in my head. Help me, I need to get rid of it before you post the rest of the story.