* Sent in by Carly Simpson
When I was in my early twenties I went on a trip with my parents and younger sister Yvonne, to visit family (Aunt Jilly) in countryside England. Sight-seeing was a main part of our agenda.
Following along with the tourist crowds, we visited a huge old country manor, scantily refurbished and in the process of repair and restoration.
My father decided to take a break, so planted himself on a garden bench while the rest of us proceeded with the tour.
Yvonne, my mother Joan and myself wandered along with the tour group, going from room to room, listening the guide talking about the manor’s ancient history. But I noticed as we approached different rooms, I was sure I heard voices that instantly stopped the moment the door was opened. Yvonne said she’d heard them too. Mum seemed oblivious to what we were hearing it seemed. I was sure there was some kind of presence around us.
The tour guide threw open the next door down the long hallway, announcing that it had once belonged to Lady Adelaide, and that everything was just as she’d left it all those many years ago.
Yvonne, my mum Joan and I shuffled to take a peek into the room while the rest of the group wandered forward onto the next item of interest.
As I looked into the room I was sure that I saw a flicker of movement in front of the heavily guilded mirror sitting atop the old dresser. I looked away then looked back quickly and was sure I caught another glimpse. I could hear a rustling sound, then all of a sudden the wardrobe door flew open. I wasn’t sure what happened after that because my feet were taking me back down the hallway out the way we came in, then out into the garden in a flash - Mum and Yvonne hot on my heels.
Dad sat pop-eyed as we three fled across the lawn towards him. We didn’t stop to explain, but grabbed his hand on the way past and made our way quickly to the carpark, then back to Aunt Jilly’s, to safety.
I know it sounds silly now, but at the time, we were scared stupid!
Sent in by Carly Simpson