One Night

Intro Bit

I grew up in a sixteenth-century farmhouse, a set of converted cottages.

My dad got hold of a very old book on Preston, which mentioned that Oliver Cromwell had stayed in some cottages near here, which may have been “Fiddlers Fold”, our house, although it was unclear whether that was certain.

Cromell supposedly drowned two monks in a well but this tale is expanded here:

One Night

Lea in Preston is close to where the Pendle Witches were, and Meg Shelton is buried under a large stone in Woodplumpton. All the places I mention can be found online.

Hauntings, ghosts and witches were always fairly close to our conversations and thoughts and very often when I would go to sleep at night the days activities sometimes stayed and preyed on my imagination.

One night, I was in the house alone and heard our dog Simba walking about upstairs opening doors (she could do that, as well as being home on the yard walls and the pigsty roof chasing rats and other rodents), so I knew I had company. I can't remember if I was watching television or listening to music, but in a four hundred year old house you start to think of things that may have happened, and the ghost stories and murder tales start to float about in your mind.

So I am sitting in the front room and there is a bark at the front door. I go and open the door, and Simba is there and has been out the whole time. So who, or what, was walking about upstairs? Simba and I went upstairs, checked every bedroom and the bathroom, but there was no sign of anyone or anything.

That was more than a little disconcerting. It was a Saturday night, so I didn't have to go to bed, but I was feeling tired, so I switched everything off downstairs and wandered up to bed.

Simba slept in the kitchen in her basket.

My bedroom was above the kitchen.

I suppose I have always been afraid of the dark, and still am afraid of total darkness, I always like a chink of streetlight or moonlight to let me know that the world is working out there.

I got undressed and into bed, put some music on to drift off to, then must have finally drifted off into the realms of Morpheus.

I woke, I think, or I may have awoken into a dream, but I was sure there was someone behind me. I wanted to look, but realised I was in night paralysis. I could not move but felt threat from whatever was behind me.

There was no sound, but I was petrified.

It was dark, there was something there, and I couldn't move.

I visualised a vampire-like figure, Nosferatu or Dracula. My mind was wide awake, but I could not move or make a sound, maybe Simba would realise and come into the room.

Thoughts and images were running round my head. Was this real, or was I in a dream or nightmare?

When nothing happens, you don't know if time is passing or if you are stuck in a frozen moment. That's how it felt for me.

I hoped to hear my mum and dad or sister come back, and maybe this phantom would dissolve like a figment of my imagination.

I was unable to move, but then I saw the sun had risen, there was light in the room, and I could move again. I was OK. There was noise downstairs, probably my mum making breakfast.

I was OK.

It must have been a dream.......I think

Addendum: People And Places Mentioned