Two months ago, we made arrangements to join the Slumber Party at Preston Castle, a closed prison for boys from the late 1800's in a state of severe disrepair. Finally, the full moon weekend came and we were there.
Fourteen of us, mostly strangers, set up our beds in the first two rooms and migrated back to the front steps to sit and chat. Snacks and drinks would be served in the basement, which had lights and electricity. Surprise, surprise, the lights aren't working. At all.
It's a perfect full moon with mackerel clouds that drift over the brilliant ivory sphere in the darkening sky. At twilight, the bats start flying out of the towers. Absolutely classic. Next, the white owls appear. Glistening in the moonlight, effortlessly gliding in and out of windows and over our heads, soaring like timeless sentries. Talk about icing on the cake. The large, ominous castle stands before us, its silent windows steadily observing the gathering of intruders who would soon scamper throughout its limbs, arteries and heart. The scene is set and it's enough to set your pulse leaping.
A few of us head to the big room in the second floor annex, two stories high with a dark timbered ceiling. I call it the dark dorm. My attempt at Julie's wands resulted in nothing but confusion, and these went a bit insane in her hands as well. David experienced his first hair raising near the steps to the third floor. Repeatedly, his arm hair would rise on solid goose bumps.
Julie and a Ruth had been in the nurse's station in the infirmary where they got odd responses in one spot, then sharp and clear answers in another. David and I spend a great deal of time out in front, taking in the presence of the castle. David is quietly absorbing all this, I think, a bit amazed and trying with all his heart to be open and yet hang on to his logical, skeptical sensibilities at the same time.
Hours later, I was sitting in a chair in the infirmary with my back to a wall, and I brought out the wands. To make a long story short, the wands crossed at several questions, and went bonkers at others. I would have to conclude we were being played with, receiving only a few concrete answers. I ended the session abruptly when someone touched the back of my neck. I do not like being touched. The two people facing me could only see the wall, absolutely no one else. I listened to the EVP the next day, and it was weird. At the beginning, I sounded actually drunk! My words were extremely show and slurred. Really odd.
The worst event was in the library. David and I head back up to the second floor. I had a need to go see that room again, as well as a peek into the destroyed third and fourth floors through the ceilings. That seemed to be important, yet, it was forgotten once we got there. David entered the room and stood near the front windows, I stopped about halfway into the room. Bats would respond to our presence by flying around and past us. Tiny little guys! I thought they were giant moths at first. Silly me. I was expecting twelve inch wing spans, I guess.
I heard, as clear as can be, a sound I could not quite identify. Turning around back towards the door, I fully expected to see one of the hunters walk down the hallway from the right and past the library door. The sound continued directly in front of the doorway, yet, no one was there. Whirling dervish?
That's when I lost it. I walked quickly over to David and took his arm. David's arm hair was up, goose bumps again! We left. Period. I would not go into that hallway until I had peeked with the torch in both directions. I was struggling to describe the sound, a rapid rocking chair noise. Walking with heavy sneakers, purposely full toe to heel? We booked it down the main staircase and back onto the porch where we counted twelve people. Whew. Incredible. Wow. Man. Shiver. What a night!
The longer version, and pictures, can be found at http://www.packrat-pro.com/ghost/preston.htm
Thanks for reading!