by M J Steel Collins | Follow on Twitter
Each October, as Hallowe’en draws near, it’s not unusual to see articles on the paranormal crop up in the media to mark the occasion. Ghosts are a particular favourite, and in Scotland, they do go well with the dreich autumn weather. Several famous tales, such as the haunting of Glamis, the Edinburgh Vaults or Castle are firm favourites; while they do make the toes curl, to me the best stories are the ones that happen to ordinary people. It’s the clash of the everyday with the inexplicable, when a ghost gatecrashes routine life and throws it slightly off kilter that makes these kinds of tales particularly unsettling. And just for Hallowe’en, here are a few that will hopefully leave you peering into a corner of the dark bedroom after lights out, wondering what is keeking back…
This story was noted by the late ghost hunter, Andrew Green in 1973’s Our Haunted Kingdom. Benalder Cottage is an extremely isolated bothy, sitting on the shore of Loch Ericht in the Inverness area. One night, in 1970, the famous blind hill walker Sydney Scroggie and his friend Dennis Fagan passed the night there. They had laid out their sleeping bags on the floor, getting ready to settle for the night, when there came the sound of scrabbling nails at the front door. It then gave way to the sound of disembodied footsteps treading about the floor, followed by the noise of heavy furniture being moved and loud shrieks and screaming. Both hill walkers lay terrified in their sleeping bags, when a friend walked into the bothy, and was perplexed to hear what had happened. When he was approaching the building to join them, it was as silent. A legend associated with Benalder Cottage was that a butler had hanged himself there whilst accompanying a hunting party during the Victorian era.
Another eerie bothy was the now ruined Sandwood Cottage located on Sandwood Bay near Cape Wrath in Sutherland. There are several tales of ghostly sailors haunting the beach at Sandwood Bay, but perhaps the most terrifying are those associated with Sandwood Cottage. Years ago, when in better condition, the cottage was used by men working round the isolated beach. One old fisherman had a couple of scary experiences whilst staying in the cottage. The first occurred one night he decided to stay at the cottage after working late to help a friend gather sheep. He was awoken by the barking of his dog at midnight, and heard someone knocking on the window. There, peering in, was a bearded old sailor. The fisherman got up to find out what the sailor wanted, but when he opened the door, there was no one there. The final experience occurred on another night, when again the fisherman awoke, this time to feel an ominous presence pressing down on him. After that, he refused to stay at the cottage.
Two student nurses, named Shirley and Gail were training in Dundee during the 1970s and had happily been sharing a one bedroom tenement flat for about a year, when it suddenly soured. Early in 1976, Shirley woke to find Gail looking at her strangely and asking if she was ok. Both girls, who shared the bedroom, had been having difficulty sleeping, though neither was aware that the other was awake. At about 3.30 am, Gail saw the hall light come on, and heard someone slowly padding around the hallway. Knowing the flat was locked, a thoroughly scared Gail hid under the blankets. When she peered out, she saw a little old lady standing by Shirley’s bed, the two apparently in deep conversation. There was something distasteful about it all. On closing and reopening her eyes, Gail saw that the old lady had vanished. Gail told Shirley what had happened later over lunch, and both were scared by it.
The last incident happened a week later. About midnight, the girls were getting ready for bed. Shirley was already in her bed, and waiting for Gail to finish in the bathroom. From the kitchen, Shirley heard the sound of someone moving around. She and Gail were the only two people in the flat, and Shirley thought she could still hear Gail in the bathroom. Petrified, Shirley knocked on the wall between the bedroom and the kitchen, thinking if it was Gail, she would knock back. There came a violent clawing in response. Shirley shouted on Gail, who came in from the bathroom, and all went deathly quiet. Suddenly, the scratching and banging recommenced with a growing ferocity; Shirley and Gail sat listening for 15 minutes before their nerve failed and they got ready to leave. They were about to go, when they realised the house keys were in the living room, so they ran to fetch them, switching on all the lights. The bulb in the living room blew, and the girls fled to friends for the night. They didn’t spend another night in the flat, only returning during the day to collect their belongings and move out.
An art student in Edinburgh, at a guess around the late 1950s, early 1960s, worked in a haunted art studio. The timber and corrugated iron building had once served as a dispensary operated by nuns at St David’s Convent in the New Town. The student, Bill Smith, described his experience to the late Norman Adams. At first, it was a friendly environment, even with the ghostly phenomenon. It appears that they had poltergeist in residence. A door leading to a garden would bang violently all the time, and various items were moved about, including furniture. One night, Bill and some student friends stayed over in the studio. They were awoken at 3 am by a female voice shrieking, “Oh no! Oh no!” which terrified them.
Bill was unable to unearth the reason for the haunting, but after going to the nuns for help, he was sent to a priest, who gave him Holy Water and a medallion with a prayer inscribed on it. Bill sprinkled the Holy Water round the studio, whilst reciting the prayer, and later slept with the medallion under his pillow. There were no further haunting. Decades later, Bill went to see the building be demolished, and heard that a neighbouring house also had a haunting. The tale was that the house was once owned by a doctor, whose young daughter went missing. The doctor lost his sanity looking for the little girl, and later on workmen allegedly found the skeleton of a child in a chimney of the house.
My family has a number of its own ghost stories, some of which involve me. I was born in Paisley, and the family home was in Foxbar area of the town until I was six months old. Strange things kept happening in the house, until it got to the point my Mum was terrified and we had to move. My mum would bealone with me in the house whilst my Dad, who was a Police officer, was on duty. Mum put me in my cot, leave the room, and come back to find the sides of the cot readjusted. Doors opened of their own volition and things moved around the house.
A few years later, my great-grandmother, Lille, passed away. She was my Mum’s Gran. Later on, her spirit took up residence in my grandparents’ house in Barrhead, leading to all sorts of family legends. My aunt saw Lille looking out the bedroom window from the street, and my now late Gran, who was Lille’s daughter, often saw her. One day, my cousin was alone in the house, and was making herself a sandwich, when she saw Lille.
I had my own encounters. Lille was a benign ghost, but as a kid, I found her a scary concept. I can’t actually remember the first time I saw her, but was told about it. When I was five, a year after Lille died, I was in the kitchen with my Gran, who was about to sit down in her favourite spot with a cup of tea.
“You can’t sit there, Gran!” I yelled.
“Why no’, hen?” Asked Gran.
“Cos Nana’s sitting there!”
Nana was the name Lille’s grandchildren and great grandchildren knew her by. I encountered her again aged eleven. It was Burn’s Night, and I was staying over. My dog, a Yorkie, which I was extremely fond of, called Chico, was with me. He spent the entire night stationed in the living room door, avidly watching something I couldn’t see going up and down the hall. Eventually, I asked Gran what he was watching.
“Jist my mum walking up and doon the hall,” Gran replied, without missing a beat.
I don’t think I slept that night.
Later on, when I was a teenager, I loved spending time hanging out at my grandparents, and quite liked the living room. They had Sky; I was fond of the shows I could only watch there. One night, I was watching TV with my Grampsie. The room was lit by lamps, which were the kind that switched to different levels of brightness by being touched. The lamps started flickering by themselves, and I pointed it out to Grampsie.
“Stop it, Lille!” he yelled, before calmly returning to his TV program.
I took the opportunity to join my Gran in the kitchen for one of her many cups of tea.
A few months later, it was just myself and my brother, who must have been about twelve. We were rather enjoying watching the TV (Sky gave my grandparents street cred like no other), when all the lamps began flickering by themselves. My brother and I looked at each other, and, without a word immediately hot footed it to the kitchen to Gran and her tea.
