posted on Oct, 5 2009 @ 09:16 AM
I was always a sceptic as a kid. I loved Halloween, but the entire idea of ghosts and the supernatural was off the radar for me really, I just didn't
see how any of it was possible.
But, I agree that experiencing things for yourself is what really makes the difference.
The day that made me a "believer" happened when I was sixteen, some friends and I regularly walked a few miles to an old area by sports fields in an
old "country" area of our modern town in England.
On the side of the fields there was a very old house, partially hidden by a massive overgrown garden.
I've since learned that the building was the former rectory. Built in the 17th century, moated and part of a larger mansion.
It was completely derelict then, the windows were boarded up (where the boards hadn't been pulled away by curious youngsters) and the floorboards
were crumbling or completely missing.
There was a lot of graffiti, but some of the original Victorian wallpaper could still be seen in some places. There was even a massive old cast iron
Victorian stove in a kitchen.
Upstairs, entire floors of rooms were missing. You could walk up the narrow staircase to the landing, and into one room, but the hallway from there on
was unstable and mostly just rotting beams.
So, I was there with friends one afternoon and we were exploring. I found myself alone and looking for one of my friends. I walked to the bottom of
the stairs and looked up, about to climb and see if he was up there.
At the top of the stairs there was a young man, in green/brown military uniform. I'd say it was first World War. He had a gun in his right hand, the
but resting against the floor. A thick belt around his middle with several shapes visible. I could even see the gathered material of his trousers
where they were tucked into his boots.
He was just standing there on the top step, leaning against the wall, looking down at his feet, looking extremely sad.
After a few seconds of me registering what I was seeing, he moved, saw me at the bottom of the steps and looked absolutely terrified. More so than I
had been up to this point. I had still been trying to register what it was exactly that I was seeing.
But as soon as I saw his eyes wide with fear, looking right at me from beneath the visible rim of his helmet, I knew it was a ghost.
I was out of that building quicker than a rat up a drain pipe.
My friends found me outside eventually, but I didn't tell them what I'd seen, I just refused to ever go back in there again.
I guess he was a son of a previous owner who died in the war, maybe he missed being home?
I've tried to find out more about the place, and the history, but all I can find is the name of the place, and some data on the ownership of land
hundreds of years before.
It's now been renovated and become part of a complex of new buildings.
Needless to say, it made me a believer, and since then I've had other experiences that support my opinion that ghosts do indeed exist. No other
experiences are as dramatic, but I have seen another soldier on a site I once worked on that strangely wasn't built until the 70's/80's, but it was
a secure military related one. And I've seen a woman on another site, several times in the kitchen just out the corner of my eye as I walked past.
Other times I can smell Channel No5 in my house, which is the perfume my mother used to wear when she was going out for a posh do.
And once, a colleague and I were discussing our mothers, their passing etc... and she was telling me a story about finding a missing photo of her
mother while listening to a song she loved. Just at that moment, and I mean right at that second, my boss in another room turned up his radio and it
was playing my mothers favourite song, one we played at her funeral, and one I hadn't heard anywhere for several years.
So, yes, I do believe, but only because of my own experiences. If I hadn't had that first encounter, I probably would still be very sceptical.