Let me make one point clear from the outset; I’ve never believed in ghosts, although I have seen many things that defy rational explanation.
I’ve always had some connection with the paranormal, and have often seen people, especially children, walking across the room, but none have ever stopped to speak or look at me.
I just accepted these sightings as a normal everyday occurrences in my life.
Never have I been hurt or afraid of anything I have seen, which brings me to the strangest, most heartbreaking thing that happened in my life.
About eleven years ago I was asked if I would be afraid to spend the night alone in an empty house.
The would-be new owners had been told that it was haunted and they wouldn’t sign the “contract to buy” without someone, preferably me, giving the house the “all-clear”.
Although unafraid, it took two hundred pounds to get my agreement to house-sit for the night.
The house was large and completely empty. Not a stick of furniture in the entire place. It had been swept clean by the outgoing owners.
I had the opportunity to speak to these sellers and they assured me that the house was indeed haunted.
They had had numerous sightings in nearly every room in the house and were scared out of their wits.
They were selling the house at a bargain price just to get rid of it.
They had told the buyers about the hauntings, because many of the neighbours knew the house’s history, and they were afraid that the buyers could claim back their purchase price at a later date if it was found that they had been kept in the dark about the hauntings.
I found this all very amusing, and agreed that I would spend the night alone in the house to give the buyers some confidence in their purchase.
The only condition that I imposed was that my dog KIM was allowed to accompany me. Neither party argued with this point, so it was arranged that I would occupy the place from eight in the evening until eight the following morning.
So, there I was with my dog, two books, two packets of cigarettes and a heavy coat for warmth during the early hours of darkness.
The electricity was still turned on and I entered the house regretting that I hadn’t brought a radio with me.
It was going to be a long night, but I was being well-paid, so I had nothing to complain about.
My first thoughts upon entering the house was that it was colder inside the house than outside, but I shrugged this off as a figment of my imagination. There had been no heating on in the weeks that it had stood empty so the house had naturally cooled down.
The first thing I did was make a cup of tea.
The sellers had left me a nice supply of tea, milk, sugar and biscuits.
I drank the tea as I walked around the ground floor rooms.
All was in order. The house had been spotlessly cleaned.
Finishing my tea I washed the cup in the sink and decided to inspect the upper floors.
Yes, there was also an attic, but no cellar.
This is when I got my first inkling that something was not quite right about the place.
My dog would not follow me up the stairs, but lay at the foot of the stairs and went to sleep.
OK, I carried on alone.
All of the lights worked, so there were no eerie rooms to shine a torch into.
I went around the entire house, attic included, and found nothing untoward, except to notice that it was indeed a cold house.
Going back downstairs I decided to sit on the bottom stair, as there were no chairs in the house, so I started on my book, very aptly, a ghost story!.
My dog slept at my feet giving an occasional whimper, but sleeping soundly.
I smoked and read, smoked and read, but dutifully I toured the whole house from top to bottom every two hours.
I found absolutely nothing untoward about the house.
Sure, it was bloody cold, but that’s the only fault that I found.
Around three o’clock my dog’s whimpers increased in frequency and volume.
I couldn’t wake him as he was soundly sleeping.
This did worry me a bit, but dawn was nearing and we would soon be on our way.
I spoke to him as he slept, promising all manner of goodies for being such a good boy.
At six o’clock I started my last tour and it was whilst I was in the well-lit attic that I heard a pitiful whining coming from somewhere.
The hairs on the back of my neck started to prickle, and I made my way hurriedly back downstairs.
Kim lay there, but he was still. I tried to rouse him but he was lifeless in my arms.
I sat there and cried, for there was nothing further that could be done for him.
I opened the front door and sat on the step until eight o’clock when the buyers arrived.
They smiled when they saw me sitting there in the early-morning sunshine.
“Well, how did it go?” said the husband.
“I did as you asked, and I neither saw nor heard
a sound, but my dog is dead. You make your own minds up,”
I carried my dog home and buried him in the garden. My wife was heart-broken, as was I.
The house,? The couple decided not to buy it, and when I left England a year or so later, it was still for sale.
Kitos.