xavier de Burgh
Paranormal Novice
Growing up, you always stayed away unless dared.
tales from parents telling you of a man who still haunts the place after being found hanged there in the 1850's. after an argument with the land owner, over the price rise on his rent of the land. with nothing but despair running through his mind, he felt no choice but to take his life and was not found for days, but when he was, his face blue and swollen, and his body limp,
the tales of hearing the snap of weight against the roof joist, as his memory echoes the jump he took with his sorrows drowning his mind,
i have actually heard what i thought could be this, when i was sixteen years old and me and my friends, being from a background where camping out is still cool at that age, decided on the ultimate summer holiday camping spot for a few nights, the barn, safe from wind or from straying animals, the barn had stood derelict for years. the only thing still standing in there was the cattle crush and the old milking tank, we raised our tent, made a clearing to make a fire. steel bucket in the middle with logs in, sleeping bags out on a ground sheet to surround the fire and drink a bit of whisky that one of us "liberated" from the parents supply, each telling stories of what we had been told of as kids by our parents. one by one we head to our tents and bed down for the night after what was hours of tales of murder and how bodies were discovered, smoking and drinking, like the men we thought we were
half past three in the morning, pitch black, summer harvest moon high in the sky giving a silvery glow in through the cracks in the tiles and the roofing, i woke to a resounding slap and crack, i opened my tent and looked out, red embers still showing in the bucket, and my friends tents still tightly zipped, i thought i must have imagined it, but looking up i saw a shadow a limp figure from the rafters, i lay there the rest of the night til the sun came up at 6am, and i woke my friends, none of them hearing what i heard, none of them believing me, i still believe what i heard was the sound of a desperate man who could not take another minute of his life, still sends a shiver down my spine to think of it, as i was not told of this mans death until after i had been there that night, my mother showed me a page in a book that chronicled the mans suicide,
Along with tales of a man in the 1950's dying from injuries, after being hit by the tractor he thought he had parked, Pinned against the wall, for hours after attempting to lock up the barn for the night, the handbrake wasn't applied properly and the vehicle, slowly and silently, crept towards him as he struggled with he gate, then the spike from the bale forks entered his back, and with the weight of the vehicle pushing through the gate and against the opposite walls, only to be found the next morning. white and lifeless.a pool of blood laying below his body.
all of this still sends a massive tingle down my spine!
tales from parents telling you of a man who still haunts the place after being found hanged there in the 1850's. after an argument with the land owner, over the price rise on his rent of the land. with nothing but despair running through his mind, he felt no choice but to take his life and was not found for days, but when he was, his face blue and swollen, and his body limp,
the tales of hearing the snap of weight against the roof joist, as his memory echoes the jump he took with his sorrows drowning his mind,
i have actually heard what i thought could be this, when i was sixteen years old and me and my friends, being from a background where camping out is still cool at that age, decided on the ultimate summer holiday camping spot for a few nights, the barn, safe from wind or from straying animals, the barn had stood derelict for years. the only thing still standing in there was the cattle crush and the old milking tank, we raised our tent, made a clearing to make a fire. steel bucket in the middle with logs in, sleeping bags out on a ground sheet to surround the fire and drink a bit of whisky that one of us "liberated" from the parents supply, each telling stories of what we had been told of as kids by our parents. one by one we head to our tents and bed down for the night after what was hours of tales of murder and how bodies were discovered, smoking and drinking, like the men we thought we were
half past three in the morning, pitch black, summer harvest moon high in the sky giving a silvery glow in through the cracks in the tiles and the roofing, i woke to a resounding slap and crack, i opened my tent and looked out, red embers still showing in the bucket, and my friends tents still tightly zipped, i thought i must have imagined it, but looking up i saw a shadow a limp figure from the rafters, i lay there the rest of the night til the sun came up at 6am, and i woke my friends, none of them hearing what i heard, none of them believing me, i still believe what i heard was the sound of a desperate man who could not take another minute of his life, still sends a shiver down my spine to think of it, as i was not told of this mans death until after i had been there that night, my mother showed me a page in a book that chronicled the mans suicide,
Along with tales of a man in the 1950's dying from injuries, after being hit by the tractor he thought he had parked, Pinned against the wall, for hours after attempting to lock up the barn for the night, the handbrake wasn't applied properly and the vehicle, slowly and silently, crept towards him as he struggled with he gate, then the spike from the bale forks entered his back, and with the weight of the vehicle pushing through the gate and against the opposite walls, only to be found the next morning. white and lifeless.a pool of blood laying below his body.
all of this still sends a massive tingle down my spine!
