West Bank, Stamford Hill
Been putting this part off (although having hand in plaster cast for 5 weeks was…handy!) because I know you’re going to say well THAT never happened. Its a scary piece to write knowing 99.9% of people are now going to think I’ve really lost it. I will swear to the day I die this all happened. And I have to go through the dark and write this bit before I start Part 4 when it started to get light again (‘The removal man said “could do with some music in here” and the radio packed three boxes down came on!) with the mischievous ‘ghosts’. Sure there was more then one. Anyway, are we all sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin…
I was 27 years old. Seven years in the same job, seven years in the same relationship (another blog). I needed adventure and excitement. I left the job and the relationship, found a tenant (who never paid a penny for 6 months and that’s a whole other story) and moved to London into a seriously grotty old house in Stamford Hill. Last decorated sometime in the 60s I’d imagine, but my housemates were lovely which made up for it (initially). An eclectic mix of Antipodeans and Europeans. So far, so good.
I can’t remember if there were three or four floors, but I was at the top in the attic room.
I must’ve been there a good six months, no problems, everything happy days. We did have a lot of fun together, everyone constantly hanging out. One of the guys was a chef at a famous restaurant and was friends with the head barman and they used to swap stuff – he’d give scallops to the barman, he’d get Melon Vodka in return. Free alcohol! Great fun. It wasn’t the safest area and the boys would escort us girls to the shops, but apart from that it was amazing to feel like part of a big family and I always loved meeting new people.
And then I started having really bad nights in my attic room. Not just one, quite a few.
I woke up one night, not knowing why. It was total darkness but I felt a really horrible energy in the room. A presence. Eerie. Then I felt a weight on my entire body. It felt like a bloke was lying down on top of me, crushing me. But not a human bloke. Holding my arms down. I know how mental this sounds, I know, I know! [Just want to point out here that I NEVER ever watch horror films, scary films, none of it. Rarely watch films] But he was pushing me into the bed and it felt so dark and evil, I can’t describe the feelings. [Bloody brain damage has seriously affected my ability to describe feelings/emotions/things. Sorry, bear with. Oh the brain injury wasn’t until 20 years later, I was of sound mind back then. If you can call chucking in a job for life, a perfectly nice boyfriend and a great social life and huge amount of friends for a life in another city 120 miles away where I didn’t know anyone, ‘sound mind’].
It happened twice more. Exactly the same, couldn’t tell you how long it was lasting, all I could tell you was my absolute fear. I can’t remember if I told anyone at the time. I did send a few texts to old friends to see if they remembered me telling them stuff and they said no, if I did they’d definitely have remembered!
And then it switched up a bit and this time was even more terrifying. Same thing, woke up, room *felt* evil. This time there was also a strange noise (that I can’t remember now) and it felt like loads of children were digging their fingers into my legs.
A few years later I read about sleep paralysis. And you know what, it could’ve been. Like I said in the Ghost Posts Part 1, Never under estimate the power of fear. And maybe this was sleep paralysis and fear. BUT…
I got up, turned the light on and sat there basically crapping myself (metaphorically) until daylight. Weird thing though, when I got out of bed and looked down my inner thighs were covered in lots of of tiny bruises. And all down my outer legs. Like little fingerprint size bruises.
Well, yes, by now I was a bit of a shambles and someone on the ground floor was moving out. Can’t remember who but it was the room next to Fiona. I really liked Fiona, a strong PE teacher. I’d feel safer there. Wrong. Oh so wrong!
I’m not sure on timeframe but it could only have been a couple of weeks. I wake up one morning and…I’m elevated above my bed and span around the room. I felt the breeze on my face. I finally dropped and as I’m typing this I keep stopping to put my head in my hands. Not a single person is going to believe any of this. I told my friend the other day about it and he very quietly said, “well, the brain is extremely powerful” but I WAS THERE. It happened!
I had to move. A room was becoming free at the house of a girl I’d become friends with through one of my housemates. Isn’t it brilliant how that works. From knowing no one to knowing absolutely loads within 6 months. Thank you good old Aussies and Kiwis for being a friendly bunch! Shame about your 2 year Work Visas though.
I was out of that house. Free of that energy. Whatever was in that house house hated me. The relief!
10 years later I ended up in another old property, built 300 odd years ago. My ‘ghostly’ experiences returned, for 8 years. But this time it wasn’t dark at all. It was mischievous. And thankfully (amazingly!), I wasn’t scared in the slightest. No, I didn’t have a ghost boyfriend. I’m not that insane…!
To be Cont’d…/