The experiences of my first ghost hunt intrigued me enough to set out on a second hunt this time at Warwick Castle. What better place to spend a night in the dark. I will recite one of the most memorable experiences of the night.
For those of you unfamiliar with Warwick Castle, it is a post-medieval castle that was held by the parliamentarians whilst under siege by the Royalists during the first English Civil War. It is open to the public and has been "prettied" up to account for public trade. This "prettying" up includes mannequins dressed in period clothing dotted around the grounds and buildings, coming across these in the dark accounted for a few brown trouser moments.
Anyway enough of the history lesson and back to the story. The area we performed our vigil was a long corridor with two open rooms leading off and third room that was blocked with iron bars.
Four of us stood spaced out along the corridor with our backs to the wall (I say four, one of us was actually sat on a log pile.)
Each of us held a fluorescent ball on the fingers of one outstretched hand and a wrapped sweet in the other, the idea was to have the ball or sweet moved.
We stood for a few minutes with no activity, probably looking as silly as we felt when a sweet was heard hitting the floor at the far end of the corridor, followed by a whisper from my brother-in-law, "My sweets just moved, and I didn't even touch it." Speaking to him later he says it was like the sweet was flicked from his hand.
The ball in my hand then rolled off my fingers to the centre of my palm but I believe that either movement as I responded to my brother-in-law or standing with my hand stretched for so long was the cause of the movement. But this would only be the start.
My mom (sat on the logs, and yes, very much a family thing going on here) let out a small squeal as the log underneath her moved spilling her onto the floor. In her words it rolled in place.
I felt pressure on my finger tips forcing my hand downwards, allowing my sweet to fall to the floor closely followed by my uncle (family theme again), losing his ball.
My mom, who had sat back on the log, was spilt back onto the floor by the logs moving under her again and replaced sweets and balls continued to move from hands. In my case, my hand was forcefully pushed down again.
My mom was pushed from the log pile a third time, when she decided enough is enough and moved out of the area. It was at this time when I felt a pressure pushing against my back. My back was to a solid stone wall. I found myself having to press back in order to remain standing in the same spot, but the more I pressed back, the greater the pressure on my back increased until eventually I was forced forwards. (I was later told that a shadow had been seen behind me and the presence of a male had been sensed by someone else.)
My partner who had been involved in an unsuccessful table tipping experiment in one of the open rooms had moved into our corridor at around the time I had first felt the pressure on my back. She was positioned with her back to the room blocked with iron bars and had only been stood a minute or two when she was shoved hard from behind.