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A Forgotten Soul, and the Coshta Bower

 

Let's not beat around the bush, some stories should not be told. In this case I'm not telling it, just simply writing it. I'm not saying that it's going to be scary or sinister. It won't change the mind of any skeptic, just solidify their ideas and dogmas. But ha, I'm not here to change anyone's mind. I don't care if it's believed or not. This is just one of the many things that happened to me. This story I'm about to write, is well, the focal point of all that happened. It is my burden, and I'm still waiting for it to finish. Or to put it another way, for the end to arrive. It will be exciting to see what happens after it. Enjoy, please.

1992. What a strange summer. I was just finished primary school, and heading for secondary school. I have by this time had two encounters with the supernatural, and I was very interested in learning as much as I could about ghosts. So I set up a club called "the ghost club/Beastly remains" its occupants of membership were myself and my best best friend Johnathon O' Reilly (who has sadly now passed away). This was to be his first encounter and my third. It is difficult to tell this story because an age of innocence for him and I was stolen after this. Too much happened for it not to have drastic effects.

This day, date forgotten, felt like it would never end. After breakfast John (i'm shortening his name for the rest of the story) and I went about our business of collecting clues to a case that we were working on. It had started with me a year previous, and if we had of had access to the net it surely would have been an open and closed case. But when is anything that easy.

I'm not going to tell that story. I'll save it for another time, maybe. So after going about collecting clues, we saw a crow with a cross attaching it to the ground. It was a very disturbing image. The crow was on its back, wings extended and a cross staked through the middle of its chest. It wasn't a clue to the case, we just found it on our travels. But it does need mentioning, because like I said, this day, was the focal point of my experiences, and THAT crow was an omen of some kind.

John and I had headed back to his house and out into the backyard where our clubhouse (his mother's shed) was located. We started putting together what we had collected but came up with no definitive answer. Fed up at this stage of always coming to a dead end, I threw our findings on the ground and pressed myself into an armchair which we had taken from a skip days earlier. Undefeated John sat next to me in his bean bag and suggested that we just head out for a walk, not to look for anything just, walk. It was after all a nice day. A little overcast, but the sun came out nonetheless.

John always wondered about the things that I saw. Was actually very jealous of my talent. He would always query about how they would look and sound. Did I believe in evil ghosts? He never understood why I thought that my two encounters already experienced were, evil spirits. I didn't have an answer for him. All I could ever tell him was, "You know how there are good and bad people. Well why wouldn't there be good and bad ghosts?" Then I felt it. Suffocated. Hot, in fact too hot. I started to choke on emptiness. I couldn't breathe. Then as quick as it had started, it stopped.

"You ok?" John was standing beside me with a look of sheer fear on his face. Apparently I'd started shaking and screaming. I don't remember doing either. I took a look at my surroundings. See if there was anything out of the ordinary. I was standing in the middle of a small unused road, the factory of martin savage on my left, its fence bordering it, a 7 foot metal spiked guardian, and a disused cottage in front of me.

"Come on sit down" John was at my side, concern still on his face. "I'm ok" I managed, yet my throat felt dry and scarred with heat.

"Lets take a look at that cottage over there, could be fun" John didn't protest. Anything after my sudden attack was going to be a relief. We walked towards the cottage. It was like any other typical cottage, except its front door was bordered up and the windows on the front were stained and boarded up also.

"C'mon, there may be a way in over the other side" I said. I went around the side of the house and found footing allowing me to climb the side wall, and use the factory fence as support on the way up. Once I got to the roof, John not far behind me, I slid down to the edge and peered over. There was a window slightly open just below me. Carefully, I let myself fall over the edge of the roof. I didn't want to fall into the nettles below or break anything. Once I was on the ground safely, I pushed the window open a bit more, just enough for John and I to enter through. Once inside the words vice versa came to mind. In the room we were currently in there was a ceiling and no floor, and the other room had no ceiling and a floor. By no floor I mean that we were walking along planks of wood on their edges, with one foot gaps between them and we had to be careful were we stepped. It wasn't the most exciting place to be. The other room only had a fireplace, the front door and a two windows. The one facing the factory was the only one letting light into the room. So we kicked about for a bit. I took my head into the fireplace and looked up the chimney. Surprise surprise it was dark and dirty.

"Hey Rob look at this!" Coming out from the fireplace I walked over to where John was standing. There was a footprint, a small footprint. You could have counted the toes it was that clear, and blood. I looked at John in horror. He had blood on his hands

"Do you think someone was killed?" I said. John only shook his head. "It actually just appeared in front of me" "What?!" Apparently John had been standing waiting for me to come out of the fireplace, when he saw the footprint appear beside him. The blood however was a different story. When he had entered, and I'd first gone to the fireplace, John investigated the room. He didn't find a lot except for blood dripping down from the top of the window beside the only door inside the cottage. He pressed his fingers into it, thinking that it could have been rust, but learning differently, and then the footprint appeared.

"Lift me up I want to see where the blood is coming from" I put my back against the wall, joined my hands, and lifted John up so he could see up above the ceiling and into the attic. No sooner was he up, he was back down, jumped down from my hands in fact, and took off for the window. Not being a fool I followed example and ran for the front door. Knowing it would take John longer than I cared to wait to get out of the house. Through all the excitement I didn't hear the footsteps hobble across the opposite rooms' ceiling, but I did hear them fall to the floor we were currently occupying, and start to walk towards me. Without hesitation I kicked the bottom of the front door wide open and threw myself through, scraping my back along three nails, and then I saw it all.

The feeling from about 20 minutes before came back. But this time I could see it. I could see flames all around me, no where else. The room I was standing in was perfect. There were people in a panic around me. Then I heard myself screaming at them. Then it was over. The vision had stopped. It clarified what had happened earlier. The footsteps had also stopped coming towards me and I was back out on the unused road. In front of the house. I waited to see John come over the roof, but he didn't. I waited and waited. It felt like hours but in fact it was only seconds. Then I heard John. It was the most blood curdling scream I've ever heard. It chilled me right to the bone. Then after another minute or so John came over the roof and slid down to the road, falling with a horrible crunch.

I rushed over to him to see if he was ok. He was pale white. His eyes were unfocused, looking at me but through me. I picked him up and started to bring him home. Nothing was broken thankfully, he had a scrape or two but that's it. All he could say though, was, "Grandpa, I need Grandpa" I brought him to his Granddads' house, and knocked on the door.

When it was finally answered John had come round a bit, regained some of his colour. His Granddad asked what was wrong as soon as I had John sitting down. So I told him everything. He was sitting in a small kitchen chair when I finished telling him, and next he was raising his hands to hit John. I placed myself between him and my friend, and screamed at him for answers. Why was my mate all of a sudden mute? What had he seen? What what what? His Grandfather told me that about 65 to 70 years ago, he and his sister mother and father lived in that house. I was shocked. What had happened however was that his sister had just gotten a new dress and was dancing around the room admiring it. She was 16 and very beautiful he said. But the tail end of the dress went into the fire and she went up in flames really quickly. Needless to say she died, and that this is what I'd seen in my vision and what John had just seen. I'm thankful that I didn't see what he saw. We left his Granddads' house a few hours later. John had come back to reality and wouldn't speak of what he saw, all he said was "Its not finished Rob"

We went back to the house, I know crazy right, and John said that I was to wait here. I was to wait in the middle of a pitch black road, while he went into the house. I protested. He just said "wait here please" So I waited.

Time went pass very slow. It was now nearing 11 o' clock at night and I was very hungry. Then somewhere off in the distance I could hear hoofbeats, and the sound of a carriage. I looked up and down that road and saw nothing except pitch black endings. Yet the noise got louder and closer. I closed my eyes, and started breathe deeply. I remembered the day and its events recalled them in my mind, and opened my eyes.

There in front of me were six black horses, a black carriage and a black rider. They stood out against the blackness around them. I could feel the breath of the horses and the gaze of the headless rider. I knew what it was at once, The Coshta bower, The death coach. My time was up. I cried. Then the words came out of the silence and formed in my head "IN" I started to step towards the coach when a girl slipped past me, and sat inside the coach. I was amazed. It wasn't for me. I was a witness. This doesn't happen. The Coshta bower appears only to those who its taking. I was on a different level of sight. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. Then it was gone and in its place was John. He looked at me knowingly. "Lets go" he said. We went away from that house, not to return.

Later I asked John what he had seen. He didn't tell me about the girl, but the did say that I'm incredible. He had gone around the side of the house and felt sick. He vomited and then he came back towards were I was waiting and saw what he saw. He said he saw a bright white around me, and nothing else. He was unable to take his eyes off of me. I guess that was a good thing, because otherwise he would've seen deaths' servant.

After this day John and I saw each other less and less. We were in separate schools. But we talked until the day he died. Our bond unbroken, but a rift between us that we couldn't speak of.

I'm sure that the Coshta Bower will be back. This time for me. I believe that more than I believe in anything else. So I wait, and enjoy every day I live. As for the white light, that's my aura. I'm content (I've been told). The house is still there but there but it has no residents. I like to walk that path every now and then. It leads down to a nice old fashioned mill (my second encounter happened there) and an old train station. Sometimes I feel John walking beside as I travel down that unused but scenic road. He is the best of company.

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Comments about this paranormal experience

The following comments are submitted by users of this site and are not official positions by yourghoststories.com. Please read our guidelines and the previous posts before posting. The author, alanon80, has the following expectation about your feedback: I will read the comments and participate in the discussion.

TheGhostlyDetective (1 posts)
 
6 years ago (2011-08-03)
You faced down the Coshta Bower and walked away with the tale. I would be horrified to do that but you did.

I feel bad that John died but also glad that he's still with you sometimes but don't you worry that the Coshta Bower will take him too?

Your writing is flawless might I add. Do you have anymore experiences other than the ones you put up here?
Loganz_sis (1 stories) (150 posts)
 
7 years ago (2011-01-12)
Great story, I am sorry about your friend. I don't mean to hurt you, but how did he die?
JamesRobiscoe (419 posts)
+1
7 years ago (2010-10-02)
A powerful 24 hours that was for you and your friend. Forges a bond that may fade from view but is never broken. It hurt to hear of his death and worse, that an unspeakable rift remained to the end.
But you tell a good tale, sir!
~ James
Athena (9 stories) (222 posts)
+1
10 years ago (2008-02-09)
I've read all the other comments here: admiring your well written story and bravery. Dito
whitebuffalo (guest)
+1
10 years ago (2008-02-07)
Hello alanon,
I know that you said the blackbird sacrifice had nothing to do with this story, but how close was it to John's Grandfathers former cottage?
We also have "The Carriage", it would appear that is where the similarities end however. It is said that those who see but can not enter have a close link to the next passenger. Not the one that they witness climbing aboard, but the one after that.
The completeness of this story circle was marvelous, thank you. I can not help but to think, however, that the crow is a part of it all. I have the impression that others have seen the residual haunting within that cottage, and have called on the spirits of the woods to stop it from continuing.
I could be wrong, but that is the connection I would make.
You are right, though, it is not over. And it will not be over until all seats of the carriage are full and there are no people left for the driver to round up.
Thank you.
FRAWIN (guest)
 
10 years ago (2008-02-06)
Hi alanon. You were right, this story did interest me very much. I find it intriguing how diferent cultures have their own harbingers of death that people see and hear. Yes, I do believe you saw what you said you saw. I believe we experience our own reality and who's to say who's right and who's wrong.
Thanks for sharing your experiences with us and as always I'm looking forward to more.
Take care my friend.

FRAWIN 😊
Ohiowatha (11 stories) (415 posts)
 
10 years ago (2008-02-06)
I haven't read the story yet, but I see the title "Coshta Bower" and it reminds me of the Irish legend of the "Coach d'Bower," aka, the Coach of Sleep (or "Death") and I am fascinated. A harbinger of death is always alluring. Plus, I love the movie Darby O'Gill and the Little People, in which it is featured.

Will read this over lunch and comment. Amped!
enjolee (4 stories) (2 posts)
 
10 years ago (2008-02-06)
You're story was amazing. I would have been scared out of my mind. I'm glad I have never encountered something of that magnitude. It's an awesome story! 😁

enjolee
KimSouthO (27 stories) (1960 posts)
 
10 years ago (2008-02-06)
What a fascinating story! I had never heard of the Coshta Bower until reading your story, I have looked it up now---wow. You must have been absolutely petrified! I know I would have been.

It sounds as if you have had a very active life with many encounters.

Thank you for ahring your story, I looke forward to reading more!
God Bless!

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