ghost stories wanted please

[hembo]

with halloween fast approaching please has anybody got any ghost stories to share .. .... with a small coven of witches on anglers net surely we can muster a couple of stories , there are other things that go knock in the night apart from are rod tips (and people watching swedish porn channels on satelite )

 

[ 19. October 2003, 12:58 PM: Message edited by: hembo ]

[Gray-Catchpole]

here is one that Alan Peirce let me have for catchpole a couple of years ago. thanks alan

 

Around 15 years ago I was carp fishing a local estate lake called Sparrows Pond with two friends. There were many rumors surounding the old estate and the hall that once stood on the hill overlooking the lake, which had burnt down in the late 1800's. All that remained were the foudations and a large ornate iron bridge that crosses one end of the lake to the driveway and the road situated about half a mile away.

 

The lake was and still is typical of many estate lakes, shallow, big lily beds, boggy around the margins, surrounded by big old knarled trees and extremly broody. Even during the day it possesed an atmosphere that could only be described as heavy. Often when fishing there a strange sensation would fall upon the place sending shivers down the spine and making you to want to keep looking behind you. Even the birds and water fowl would suddenly go silent and any breeze rippling the surface would fall still. Rarely did anyone fish there alone, they could'nt explain why, just never did. To fish there was at night was never heard of that is why when we decided to do so we went as a threesome, considering that two of us would not be enough if something happened. Arriving at around 8pm it gave us enough time to set up before darkness fell at 9.30. I choose to fish from the centre of the old dam wall, Ted sixty yards to my left in the corner with Len around a hundred yards to my right on the field bank.

 

It was agreed that we would fish until around 1am and depending on results either pack in or continue until breakfast time. By the time the sun had dipped behind the hill our baits were in position and we sat back to enjoy our first cup of tea and smoke of the session. It was a nice warm evening and everything was right with the world even the fish looked like they may feed as they mooched in and out of the lily beds and sending up huge frothy bubbles from the silty lake bed. As darkness begun to fall a little light but cold breeze sprang up from no where, just chilly enough to make you lift the collar of your shirt and shrug the shoulders. Even more strange was that it seemed to come from a dense wooded area which kissed the edge of the lake and ran back up the hill to where the hall once stood. By 11pm it was pitch black and glancing to my right I could see by the glow of Len's roll up that he was making his way towards me. "Not much happening round there" he said as he arrived at my side "I'll try off the dam too" "so will I" said Ted who had arrived at my other side.

 

There we sat for the next hour just 25 yards apart with nothing happening on the fishing front. Filling the kettle and lighting the stove culminated in a take on my right hand rod and the strike was meet with a heavy, slow moving and as yet unseen force. Rising to my feet to apply some side strain I felt the uncontrollable urge to look around whilst at the same time a loud splash rang out across the lake as a big fish leapt clear of the water, the rod arched over and the clutch gave line, then all fell slack whatever it was probably a large carp had come adrift. By now my companions stood beside me and as we discussed what had happened we became aware of a great presence descending around us. Hard to describe it just felt heavy, dark and very sad. Now the three of us were well seasoned anglers spending much of our time fishing after dark, often alone. This was something else, something we had never expereinced before or since, thank god. "I think I'll call it a night" I said "feels like a storm coming" the others agreed and said we would stop for a pint on the way home, then it happened. From out of no where a scream rang out, a scream so loud that you could'nt think straight, we frooze to the spot and reached for our torches, they didn't work, three torches and not a glimmer between them. The scream turned to a wail still loud and one long note drowning our voices as we tried to speak. We knew what each other were saying and within a minute all tackle was retreived, line bitten through, stuff just grabbed as we stumbled our way along the field bank towards the iron bridge. the old drive way and the sanctuary of the car. The wail followed our every footstep growing neither louder or quieter, Ted was the first to reach the bridge and as he set foot on it all fell silent, very silent, painfully silent. I reached for my torch and yes it worked, so did the others, we looked ateach other in disbelief but dared not utter a word, what could be said? and if we spoke would the screaming start again, no we just looked then continued on the long walk to the car. How many times I looked over my shoulder, I would be geussing but it was a lot and the same went for the other two.

 

We didn't stop at the pub and drove home in silence, in fact it was more than a week before we spoke about it and then only for a minute. Last July was the first time I returned to the lake. not to fish you understand just for a look, Sarah was with me and upon seeing the lake she said that she didn't want to fish there nor even walk around it. She knew nothing of what had happened but she sensed all was not well for even during a sunny July afternoon there lay a strong presence and an atomosphere that all was not well.

[Vagabond]

Many years ago I was night-fishing with Chevin and our mate Brian at a pit in Buckinghamshire. Chevin and Brian were side by side in one large swim, and I was about a hundred yards away on my own.

 

About 2 am I was semi-dozing on my folding stool, when a pair of cold clammy hands were placed over my eyes.

 

"@@@@ OFF, Chevin" I said, and made a short speech giving a brief synopsis of his nature and ancestry - without repeating myself too often. I struck at the hands, and definitely made contact with something.

 

The hands were removed, I got off my stool, but nothing could be seen or heard. I set off at a brisk pace to Chevin's swim, to find that both he and Brian were both sound asleep on their bedchairs. They were either brilliant actors (and very fast and silent movers to have got there so quickly) or were really asleep.

 

When awoken, they both assured me (Scout's honour and all that) they had not left their swim all night, and on hearing my story, Brian got quite agitated and wanted to pack up and go home.

 

Chevin's theory is that whatever sinister being came to collect my soul was so shocked by my language that it had fled.

 

Now I don't believe in demons, ghosts, spirits, the undead, vampires, New Labour or the tooth fairy. My own theory is that it was a local angler who wanted to discourage outsiders from fishing his favourite swim. Or possibly I had been mistaken for one of his own mates, and he had hastily decamped on hearing my voice and realising his mistake.

 

I went back to my swim, and nothing seemed to have been disturbed.

 

Has anyone any other ideas??

 

Do you remember the incident Chevin?

[Milo]

Some great stories.. only thing I didn't believe about the first story was the going for a pint bit when it must of been well over closing time :confused:

 

The second story .. well, all I can say is you have got mates who know how to have a good wind up

 

A great film to watch if you like ghost stories is "The others" which has an excellant twist at the end of the film

 

 

 

[ 19. October 2003, 08:28 PM: Message edited by: Milo ]

[nursejudy]

good stories

But you will have started something with the amimations ..... how and where do we get then?

judith

[Guest Ferret1959]

 

 

 

 

 

[Ferret1929 couldn't believe it, he does now Well, with kiddies reading the forums, semi-naked females might not be what parents want them to see....]

 

Whoops where did that one come from?????

 

[ 21. October 2003, 08:29 PM: Message edited by: John S ]

[*Ant*]

So is the last one the Booby man Dave.

[Guest Ferret1959]

I'm saying nowt, I don't even know how it got there, it must be a ghost.

[hembo]

some good stories keep em coming

ferret your last link has affected my ghoulies

i to have fished at places especially at night that you get a feeling that its not right . it must be something primevil (spelling?) but as soon as you get that cold feeling down your spine you dont hang around for long .

 

[ 20. October 2003, 01:11 PM: Message edited by: hembo ]

[little onions]

"ferrett your last link has affected my ghoulies"

 

That's called the "spanner effect" - every time you look at 'em your nuts tighten.