Halloween spooky stories competition

Here's another spooky poem for Halloween, in the Geordie vernacular, about Haunted Newcastle upon Tyne...
Haunted Newcastle
The histr’y of Newcastle has been widely written doon,
By historians an’ experts whee knah ahll aboot wor toon.
An’ one aspect of that story which appears in certain books,
Are the tales of ghosts an’ ghoulies, an’ of such assorted spooks.
There are many “haunted” places, which might cause yah’re flesh te creep,
From that baleful soundin’ “Black Gate” te wor famous Castle Keep.
At the Keep the shady figure of a woman has appeared,
With a bairn held in hor arms, and a face that’s sore affeared.
In that same location sightings of a soldier have been made,
Ahll dressed in Roman uniform, with shield an’ spear an’ blade,
As he stands on guard where in the past his Legion rested here,
From their duties on the “Vallum” te defend that far frontier.
Supernatural appearances abound in Theatre land,
At the Tyne and at the Royal, where the architecture’s grand.
The “Grey Lady” at the Royal who supposedly had died,
When she jumped doon from the circle in a tragic suicide.
At the Tyne there is a stagehand’s shade, who haunts that same location,
Where some props fell doon an’ killed him, an untimely termination.
At Blackfriars, now a restaurant, but once a holy place,
In the distant thirteen hundreds a Franciscan in disgrace,
Breaking monkish vows he sadly left his lover Nun with child,
Both monk an’ nun were cruelly by powers that be reviled.
The nun was wahlled up while alive, an’ left to slowly die,
The monk’s fate is not clear, but as centuries go by,
His mourning ghost appears teday aroond old Friar’s Green,
A wanderin’ phantom in torment, still tied to that sad scene.
Doon near the Law Courts is an alley, that’s knahn as the Broad Chare,
An’ nearby on the Quayside there’s a “Silky” lurkin’ there.
Shuh gets hor name from rustlin’ sounds, made by hor ghostly dress,
An’ sightin’s of this spectre are designed te bring on stress.
Just why shuh means te terrify wuh divvent knah for sure,
Her motivation quite unknown, her origin obscure.
Not far from there ye’ll see the hoose which Bessie Surtees left,
Elopin’ with John Scott, te leave her family bereft.
With ahll on horseback, Dog Leap Stairs were reached in hot pursuit,
Where John and Bessie struggled on, continuin’ their route.
But their pursuers came te grief upon those steps so steep,
As horses fell and people died ahll tumbled in a heap.
So if ye gan te Dog Leap Stairs upon a moonless night,
Ye might just hear those phantom hooves upon that stony flight.
Ah could gan on fer ages, listin’ many a location,
Where mysterious occurrences defy an explanation.
But as ah read aboot wor toon, one fact is very clear,
That if such things as ghosts exist, thuh’d certainly come here.
Ah luv this toon that ah cahll yem, an’ when me days are through,
If afterlife permits it, ah’ll come back an’ haunt it too..

My story is in the form of a poem in the Geordie vernacular, based on a traditional folk tale of murder and haunting in old North Shields, by the River Tyne.
Fifty Fafty
In old North Shields on Dotwick Street before it was knocked doon,
The Beehive public hoose stood there, a pooah part of toon.
An’ nearby on Mankin’s lane, above the archway there,
A family dwelt in poverty, a life of pure despair.
The Fahtha was notorious, a thief both bold and crafty,
An’ he was knahn te all around, whee named him “Fifty Fafty”.
He had a son, an honest lad, who tired of ahll the strife,
When auld enough just ran away, te make another life.
This lad cahlled Jim went off te sea, te new lands far away,
Became successful and grew rich, on distant Hudson’s Bay.
The years went by, an homesick noo, wor Jim came back te Shields,
An’ brought with him the fortune that he’d earned in foreign fields.
An’ seekin’ oot his sistah, telt her he had come back,
Te save them ahll from poverty, te give them ahll they lack.
He asked hor te say nuthin’ , as his parents te surprise,
Jim would visit them on Christmas Eve, maintainin’ his disguise.
She should then arrive te see them ahll at yem on Christmas day,
Where he would tell them whee he woz, and that he’d come te stay,
An’ with his new-foond fortune from his profits overseas,
He would make sure that his fam’ly noo enjoyed a life of ease.
So on Christmas Eve his careful plan continued the deceit,
Masqueradin’ as a sailor seekin’ lodgin’s for the neet.
He paid his parents in advance, an’ feelin’ far too bold,
He boasted of his fortune an’ showed them his watch of gold.
So as he slept, those evil folk then mordered their ain lad,
His body went into the Tyne, they stole ahll that he had.
With mornin’ came the Sistah, but with nee sign there of Jim,
Shuh telt hor parents whee he woz, an’ what shuh’d planned with him.
As the horror of their actions dawned upon that wicked pair,
Their ultimate damnation left them baith in deep despair.
Though wuh divvent knah if they were caught an’ brought before the law,
A lifetime’s tortured conscience may have cost them so much more.
It was said that where the crime took place, a ghostly dog was seen,
A large black hoond that roamed aroond where evil once had been.
Both house and lane are long gone now, demolished years ago,
But if yah’re in the area it’s just as well te know,
That if on one dark winter’s neet, ye hear a ghostly howl,
That phantom hoond might make that soond, te show it’s on the prowl…

I teach English as a foreign language and one of the textbooks I use has a unit on the supernatural. I always enjoy this unit because it was such an interesting subject that even otherwise shy students are motivated to speak and tell their stories.
One I remember was a Vietnamese student. She lived in London now and her whole family lived together. When the grandmother died, they had her cremated and buried her ashes in the garden, so she could still be close. But the old lady wouldn't rest. When she was alive she was quite short-tempered and likely to shout; as a ghost she was the same. She yelled in their ears every night, always saying "Take me home! I want to go home!" None of them could sleep. My student described the whole family, exhausted and irritated by the angry and restless spirit.
Eventually they put together the money to take her ashes back home, where they scattered them in her old garden. After that she stopped bothering them.
Another student, a Mexican girl, told me that her recently deceased grandmother had visited her in her bedroom on several occasions when she was about four years old.
I said, "Oh, that's nice," because usually such stories bring comfort to the person who is visited, but she said, "No, not really. She told me to jump out of the window because she was lonely and wanted some company."
She had started to jump, but been grabbed just in time by her mother, who spotted her standing in the window.

Some years ago, we were living in a large semi- detached Edwardian house, in a small town in Surrey.It had needed a lot of work, but after a year, most of the work was complete, and we started to get to grips with the overgrown garden.Hard work, but we got on as well as we could, mainly at weekends.During the week, when my husband had left for the office, I would put on my oldest clothes and start to clear a small patch at a time.It was a long hot Summer, and one, very hot Tuesday afternoon, I looked up and saw a small boy watching me from just inside our gate.I waved at him, and he smiled back, I assumed he was a neighbour's child.I asked if he wanted to help, but he shook his head, waved and went out of the gate. I thought no more of it that day, but after that, I saw him all the time, always in the garden, always quiet but smiling.He often wore a red tee shirt with a dinosaur on it and blue shorts, but one day appeared dressed in his pyjamas.
He seemed content to just watch me for a while, but one day had a football with him, the cheap plastic black and white kind, from the supermarket.
He wouldn't speak to me, but as he was only about four years old, that was fine, he always smiled and then watched me or walked around the garden or played quietly, never for more than five minutes at a time.Eventually I would notice that he had gone.
I asked the neighbours when I saw them, about the boy, he was a bit young for wandering around on his own, and got some strange looks from them but no answers, nobody knew where he lived.
About a week later, I was in the kitchen gazing out of the window, when the boy emerged from the small shrubbery, he was holding a small plastic bow and arrows set, and as I smiled and prepared to wave at him, he simply vanished. I don't mean that he ran anywhere, or became fainter and fainter, but simply that one second he was there, and the next had gone.
I looked for him every day that Summer, and felt a strong sense of loss, but knew somehow that he had gone for good. As the Summer ended, I found that amazingly, after seven years of marriage, I was pregnant and felt profoundly happy and content.I would buy my baby a red dinosaur tee shirt someday.

I was talking to my son a couple of years ago in the dining room when someone walked behind me. Thinking it was his wife, I turned mid sentence to speak to her, only to see a figure dressed in brown servant's clothes from about 1900's disappear as she walked towards the door! I am the last person to believe in ghosts so I can't explain this at all! There was nothing scary about it and I could draw her she was so clear. My son just looked at me and said what did you see??? Seen nothing since but must admit to hoping for another chance encounter. Our house was built in 1850 and has been extended but this was in the old two up two down part, so who knows?

Great stories, Gemini and Granny. Bennan, that was spooky indeed !

Creepy, Bennan! I believe Ouija boards were banned once by the Church of England.

As a young teacher I shared a flat in Edinburgh with another teacher and a secretary. We were good friends and settled in well together. One evening, the other teacher suggested that we try her Ouija board. I had never heard of these things and was a little reluctant to try it. I was persuaded and we started a session. Seemingly there is a spirit of the board who becomes the conduit into the occult. We tried it a few times and found out that the spirit of the board was a Russian soldier who had been killed in the Russo-Japanese war early in the 1900's. It was quite difficult to understand him because his English was very limited and we had to write down everything he said to make sense of it. Then, one evening, we asked him where he was now. He replied and we wrote down his words as they were spelled out. "Behind you" was the message. We fought each other to get out of that room and we never used the Ouija board again!

Hurry, Jack! said Meg when they saw the 'For Sale' sign, before someone else gets in first.

Not too many weeks after moving in, they invited friends over for dinner. You must have worked yourself to a standstill said her friend Liz. Too right, you should have seen the place! came the reply. Particularly, the basement was a tip. When I was going through the junk down there, I came across a small velvet-covered notebook, under rubble and covered in dust, with what looked like poems written inside. I didn’t want to bin it because it clearly belonged to someone at some time, the date inside is 1898. So I took it to the museum down the road in case they could do something with it. The writing was barely legible, and in a foreign language.

Just then their 3 year old appeared. Mummy he cried. The lady is in my room. Not again said his dad. I don’t know what’s with this child, since we moved his sleep patterns are all over the place. Some nights we wake and find him sleeping in our bedroom doorway. Bit freaky, actually, but it seems he’ll rather be anywhere than in his room.

Ooh, I’ve gone goosebumps. What lady, Jacob? asked Liz and picked up the boy. With fire in her eyes whispered the little boy. No more telly for you before bed said his mother, slightly embarrassed, and stood up to take the child from her friend. Jacob started crying loudly and clung to Liz and the guests shuffled their chairs.

A few weeks later Meg met Liz for coffee in the museum cafe. I’m truly frazzled she said. Exhausted. Jacob is just not sleeping, it seems he is having nightmares, and they always involve seeing a woman somewhere in the house. The other day we were looking for his bicycle in the basement, and he said she was there.

Why not get our priest in to bless the place? Who knows with it being such an old house … Liz offered.

Don’t be ridiculous! Meg exclaimed with a frown. I told you, there are no such things as ghosts.

Just then the museum curator came toward them. Mrs Hardy I’m so glad I’ve seen you – about that book, they’re love poems, written in German, for a man called Jakob. It has no real value. And with that he handed her the book with a smile. So I guess it should stay with the house.

A few weeks later there was a knock at her door and there stood the priest. I’m not interested in any of this! she said crossly. Anyway, Jacob’s sleeping has settled down, with no more talk of a strange lady.

I don’t need to come into the house replied the priest. I’ve walked around the garden and near the basement I received a message of thanks to pass on to you …her name was Liese, and it’s about a book.

All Hallows Even, my first as a free spirit, an evening of ghosties and ghoulies , long-legged beasties ...and things that go bump in the night.

Skipping along the street, I forced myself to slow to a more measured pace. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Dressed as I was in a dark cloak and hat I wanted to appear invisible, much as I did for the rest of the year. There were advantages to being old.

A sudden gaggle of guisers* came sprinting into view, about a dozen of them, kids dressed as warlocks, witches, ghosts and vampires, all fake blood and fangs, high on sugar and the thrill of being let out so late at night. They shrieked their delight as they rushed along, waving their bags of treats in the air.

Instinctively I shrank back into the shadows, shivering a little, clutching my precious cargo under the all-enveloping protection of my cloak. The weather forecast had been spot on: a moonless night, a restless wind, cloudy and overcast with the menace of rain.

I hurried on past the Church, pausing only to catch my breath by the graveyard wall. That was when I realized that the hall was in darkness. Odd. Surely I wasn’t the first to arrive? And what was that smell? I hesitated, leaned against the heavy oak door and stumbled into the room.

It took a few seconds to adjust to the gloom. Inside, there were sounds of hustle and bustle, but all half hidden in the shadows. My eyes were drawn to the figure of a woman, bent over a low flame, stirring the contents of a steaming cauldron. Our eyes met. She called out, “Is that you, Granny G? Have a taste of this. I think I may have added too much red wine!” I took the goblet from her, sniffed appreciatively, savouring the scent of cinnamon and cloves, sipped the mixture and pronounced, “Absolutely perfect, Granny E! And I’ve brought just the thing to help it go down a treat”, producing from under my cloak the two large tins of Hallowe’en cakes I’d baked that afternoon. “What’s with the electricity though?” “Fuse blew”, she replied, “but it’s being sorted” ... at which the hall lights sprang to life.

I looked around at all the smiling faces, some barely recognisable beneath their ghoulish garb and make-up. “Good evening, Granny Ghouls, don’t you all look magnificent... Let the mischief begin!”
......................................................................................................

[* While the practice of Trick and Treat is now widespread, guising still occurs in parts of Scotland. Children put on fancy dress and visit nearby houses where they sing a song, recite a poem or tell jokes and in return are given fruit, nuts or sweets.]
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Pure fiction...but nice to think that it could happen!

My story is real!
I was 8 months pregnant with my daughter at the time. We had friends staying for the weekend and took them out into the Welsh countryside. We came across a beautiful small country church, looking around at the gravestones I came across a girls name I really liked. On closer examination of the inscription I noticed that she had died 130 years to the day, it was her anniversary.
That evening at home we talked about the coincidence in the graveyard but also about a friend who had sadly ended her life.
The large pendant light in our sitting room dimmed, we all stopped talking and looked at each other. My husband laughed and said that the bulb must be on the blink. With that the pendant slowly swung from side to side! The movement was like someone held it and slowly guided it.
We were all scared to death. The house was modern, nothing like this had ever happened before or indeed since.
My conclusion was that it was either the spirit of the girl from the graveyard or the friend who had taken her life.

In the early 1980's my sister was house hunting.She had decided to look in the village where we grew up , and being fond of older type houses and traditional cottages etc. We asked residents we still knew from the village to keep an eye open for any properties coming onto the market.

Eventually the Mother of a friend my sister had gone to school with was in touch to say the house next to theirs was empty and coming up for sale if she would like to go and view it.

We picked up the key from the agent and went to the house, we were quite excited as it was where my sister wanted to be, and if the inside didn't need too much doing, it looked very promising.
She put the key in the lock and the handle would not turn, she tried all ways. Then she asked me to have a go, I turned it this way and that and then it just slid open as though there had never been a problem.

We went inside, my sister first, and we were quite jolly and excited. My sister started saying what she would change and what she would put where,it started to feel really chilly, but then it was an empty house, so it would. We progressed upstairs and checked out the bedrooms, a little old fashioned but lots of potential. The last thing for us to see was the attic, and we were really excited and child like as we both liked attics!
In the attic , we started to talk about what she would put up there and then I discovered some old photographs on the window ledge of a couple on their wedding day. I said how awful it was that they had not been removed prior to people being able to view the house.All of a sudden the room went deathly cold, our teeth were chattering, and then there came over us a most awful, black, melancholy feeling, the atmosphere became heavy and charged with something that I cannot explain, I can only say that we weren't welcome there, we said nothing to each other, neither of us voiced what we were feeling, but at the same instant we both RAN from the room to get to the stairs, we almost got stuck as we literally pushed each other out of the way in order to get down the stairs first.The hair on the back of our necks was stood on end and we both started having severe head pains, we ran out of the house and nearly knocked over a poor man who was coming to view after us.
When we got out on the street, things returned to normal, and we both started laughing and giggling as the tension drained away.
We looked at each other and both said 'What the HELL was that?'
Needless to say, she didn't buy the house, and it made such an impression that we still talk about it to this day.

PATTY

'Why are you baby-sitting me?' asked Belle, 'Where's your sister?'

'Chloe's not well, she asked me to come,' said Josh. 'She didn't want to let your parents down.' He took his school books from his bag and added, 'You should go back to bed, I've homework to do.'

'What is it?' asked Belle, coming closer.

'Quadratic equations.'

'What are they?'

Josh sighed. 'You're only eight,' he said, 'You wouldn't understand.'

Belle drifted off to bed but, unable to concentrate on homework, Josh picked up the sandwiches Mrs Jackson had left him and switched on the TV. He didn't notice that Belle had come down again until she said

'Josh?'

Josh jumped. 'What?'

'I can't sleep. Can I watch TV?'

'Alright, but not for long. I'll be in trouble if you're up when your parents get back.'

'Can Patty come down, too?'

'Who?'

'My friend - Patty.'

'You're having a sleep-over? Your Mum never said.'

'Can she?'

Belle raced back upstairs and reappeared with another girl following behind.

'She's from Africa,' said Belle as Patty hovered in the doorway.

A car chase started on TV and Josh ignored the girls as they fetched paper and felt-tips and stretched out on the carpet.

When the film ended he switched off the TV and held out his hand to Belle.

'Let's see what you've drawn, then?'

Belle stood, hoisting her pyjamas around her waist, and handed Josh her drawing.

Josh looked at the neat house with its wide windows, integral garage and red roof.

'Very good,' he said, 'Let's see yours, Patty.'

Patty handed him her drawing. It showed a round hut and a palm tree and what looked like the sea behind.

'Where's this?' he asked, puzzled. They were miles from the sea.

'It's where she lives, silly,' said Belle. 'I told you she was from Africa,' then she added, 'You can keep the pictures, Josh, we did them for you.'

The Jacksons returned at ten-thirty letting in a blast of frosty air.

'Everything ok?' asked Mrs Jackson, taking off her coat.

'Fine,' said Josh, 'Both fast asleep now.'

'Both?' queried Mrs Jackson.

'Yes,' said Josh, 'You didn't tell me Belle had Patty sleeping over.'

'Patty?' said Mrs Jackson, 'Oh, no, I don't believe it. I thought that imaginary friend disappeared weeks ago. Belle used to talk about her all the time but we thought she'd got over it.'

A singing noise began in Josh's ears and he felt rather peculiar.

Mrs Jackson added 'Lots of children have imaginary friends, of course, but they usually don't last long.'

Josh stood on the front step, stuffing his wages into his pocket along with the felt-tipped pictures. Glancing up, he caught a glimpse of two faces looking down at him - one pale and one dark, both grinning.

Shivering, Josh turned up his jacket collar against the cold and, with his bag bumping on his shoulder and only the moon for company, he ran for home.

(493 words)

When I was 16 I had a lovely boyfriend called Billy. After leaving home I didnt see or hear from him in years until one night when I had gone to visit my parents. As I was leaving it was absolutely pouring of rain and I saw Billy running passed Mum and Dads house. I shouted out to him to see if he wanted a lift. He accepted. He didnt speak at all in the short journey and when dropping him outside his house I thought nothing of the fact I didnt see him go into the house. Many months later I opened a newspaper to read astory about a young man who had perished in a housefire 3 years previously and spookily that poor man was Billy. I often asked my Mum if she had seen him on that rainy night but she always said she saw no one

Well, both those tales have sent my goosepimples into overdrive!

I'm such an idiot, I didn't read the instructions properly so I basically wrote a hurried post (I do everything in a hurry) and not a story. Oh well, that'll teach me

Here's mine. I want to say at the outset that neither of the two people in the story believe in ghosts!

Husband and I went on a road trip and late at night left a fog-bound winding road high up in the Amathole Mountains, Eastern Cape, South Africa to find somewhere to stop for the night (we hadn't booked anywhere ahead, we were young and adventurous!). We were delighted to come across a long driveway which took us to a country hotel, but dismayed and deflated when we were told there were no rooms available. At our obvious disappointment, the two people in reception turned away and had a whispered conversation and then said "We do have one room we can let you have".

After a good meal off we went to bed in this room in an annexe, away from the rest of the hotel. It was a cold night and with no heating in the room, we closed all the windows, locked the door and fell into a deep sleep after driving all day. At about 3 a.m. I was woken by the sensation of weight across my legs, as if someone or something large had stood on or walked across the foot of the bed. As I sat bolt upright and said "What the hell was that?" I realised that husband too was doing the same as he had felt it too. We were both really frightened and immediately turned on all the lights and checked every inch of the room thinking it may have been a cat, with a window or something having been left open. Nope, nothing at all.

After a fitful rest-of-the-night, we packed up very early to continue our journey and on settling our account, told the reception staff about our strange experience. They exchanged knowing glances but said not one word. We couldn't wait to get out of there!

My spooky story is one that happened to me, years ago, when I was a college student,
I had gone to spend a few days at my friend Cheryl's house, and her mum, who I called Aunty Bren, had washing out, so I offered to bring it in, Now next door lived a lovely old couple ,Mr & Mrs English, Mr English was in the garden, smoking his pipe, so we had a good natter, and I looked over at the window, and aunty Bren and Cheryl were both staring at me looking puzzled . Taking the washing in, I asked what was wrong " Who were you taliking to?" Cheryl asked, " Mr English, he;s so sweet" I was then told, Mr English had passed away, at the weekend, and to prove it, they told me to knock next door as he left something for me, So off I went, knocked and Mrs English, gave me a book on Altrincham( I lived near, in Sale) Yes he had passed away, but what I saw was solid, his clothes, cap, pipe, I could even smell it!!
I am now in my 50s and I still think about the chat I had with the ghost of Mr English

PHOENIX !!!