Selkie Cove

Around ten years ago, I had been working in the UK and during a break I decided to go on a short tour of the north of Scotland.

I had stayed overnight at Durness (a wonderful little village with some amazingly rustic buildings) and decided to head out early the next morning for some sightseeing.  This was in September, the weather had been much nicer than I expected, with most days warm (although overcast), and little of the rain I feared.

On my drive I happened to arrive at a roadside beach and selected this spot for a walk as the sun was to rise.  I parked on the side of the road in the pre-dawn light and after a few minutes in the car I set out walking to the beach.  The sound of the waves and the smell of the ocean were lovely in the cool morning air.

I walked around 200 yards towards the rocks on the left of the beach and realized that I could hear the soft sound of laughter, singing and playful shouts coming from further around the rocks.  This was a little confusing, as I thought I would be alone at this hour of the morning, and I didn’t see any houses close to this spot.  I also felt a little uneasy about it for some reason not obvious at the time.

I was told that the beaches around here were open to the public, and there were many walking trails, so I was confident that I was not encroaching on a private gathering.  As I grew closer, I was sure the voices were mostly (if not all) female.  I, perhaps naively, doubted I was in any danger as I am a fairly large man.  My only concern was that I may scare the people, yet despite this I wanted to see around the rocks and discover who had gathered so early on the beach.

Strangely, as I drew closer to the large rock outcrop that barred my view of the group around the small cove, the sound of their activity quieted to almost no noise.

The only sound were the waves, the wind, and some splashing of frolicking in the water.

A few seconds later I cleared the rocks and I finally had a view of the small beach.

To my confusion I noticed no people on the sand.  The only company that greeted me were some 15 or so grey seals, of various sizes.  Most were watching me from the safety of the water, while others swam further out into the bay.  While they were a lovely sight to behold in the early morning light, I was more curious as to the location of the people who were here.  I stood and looked about the small cove area and I saw no people or evidence that people had been here.

I decided to walk into the area and I sat down on the rocks to watch the sun rise over the ocean.  As I relaxed there, the seals swam away and I was left to my own thoughts.

It was maybe half an hour later that, in the light of the sun, I noticed the fresh footprints in the sand all around me.  It was the ones in front of me I examined first, they were smaller than my own feet so I believed they were from a young woman.

There were many prints around… some quite small (obviously children) and none appeared to be as large as my own foot prints.  The prints all appeared to come up from the water, and return to the water, with the waves quickly destroying the evidence of their passing.

I thought about it and I am not sure of what I saw… I admit it was still a little dark when I looked at the seals, yet I am sure that they were not people.  They were quiet large and grey, with no human hair or faces.  Yet I could not explain this.  I started to feel a sense of unease and I decided it would be better to go on about my day.  I quickly put it behind me and continued my day tour. 

That night, when I returned to my lodging, I mentioned my morning adventure to the landlady.

She drew quiet on my questions about the disappearing people and advised me not to talk to people about my experience.

She told me that I had encountered a group of Selkies, and that I should count myself lucky no misfortune had occurred to me.

Since then, I have always kept my experience a secret, only now telling you about it as I trust I will not be mocked.  I often wonder why I stopped at that beach and whether I sensed their presence or if it was just a coincidence.

Blair – U.S.

Did this Faerie take a wrong turn?

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by Pascal Moguerou

 

I think I had an encounter which happened recently (early March 2020). I have no idea, what it was – fae or not – however, it was very strange, so I’d love to share.

It was a completely normal day, around 3 pm in the afternoon.

I was having a coffee chat with my sister (she’s 31, I’m 29) in our kitchen.

She was holding her 5 months old baby boy, while my 1 1/2 year old baby girl was sleeping in another room.

Suddenly, we heard a strange, short sound.

Later, we tried to describe it.

It was a sound of friction, the sound of heavy furniture moving on a carpet.

We immediately turned our head towards the sound – I turned right, she turned left, at the corridor door. Then we turned at each other:

Did you… see that...?!”

pascal moguerou artist (2)
by Pascal Moguerou

It lasted just for a second, but it was long enough for us to later describe the exact same thing, at the exact same spot:

there was this little, about 50 cm tall, white, human shaped… something or someone, beside the half-opened door.

Our immediate instinct was to look behind the door (there was nothing), and to check on my baby, because she was sleeping in the room next to this door. She was sound asleep.

It felt very strange, eerie. Our hearts beat faster, but we weren’t afraid, just feeling this “what on earth happened?!” vibe.

We later discussed, if her baby boy started crying, we would have freaked out for sure, but his calmness made us feel at ease too.

Still, even without this actual fear, for 3 hours we constantly felt chills, and just thinking about it made our skin crawl. We never experienced anything like this before, and haven’t since.

One of the things that puzzled us the most was the fact that we couldn’t link this experience to anything. teacup girl
We just chatted about everyday mom life stuff. Nothing special, we were relaxed.

March was a crazy month, for sure, but not only for us…
I wonder whether the fellow was a herald of all this “craziness”, but, to be honest, this explanation just doesn’t feel right.

 
It much rather felt like an ‘accidental’ meeting, an unintended lifting of the veil – to both of us. My Sister said:

It felt like, as if someone took a wrong turn.”

Beth, Hungary.

Something in the Woods

I believe I’ve had several encounters with the Good People, since I was a small girl.  Too much has happened around me that I can’t really explain for it to be coincidental.

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Most of these have been happy, for the most part, though cautionary.  Even in the event it scared me, I didn’t feel particularly threatened.  I hear a bell quite often, just a soft tinkling sound that my dog seems to key in on, which is usually followed by finding something that I’ve been missing.

I’m careful not to say thank you when this happens, but it’s a strange, comfortable sort of thing.  I don’t really have words to describe it.  I live in a semi rural area, wooded on all sides of the houses.  We have about half an acre of woods on the property, but we also have neighbors across the main road and on either side of my home.

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I like to go out for hours and sit on a swing in my yard, enjoying nature, and occasionally listening to music, sometimes singing, or reading, and the swing faces the woods, so you see darting shadows and animals which occasionally regard you with almost knowing eyes.

Recently, however, I’ve been experiencing things of a nature that has me on edge.

It started about a week before Samhain.  I was spending the weekend alone for the most part, my family was out of town, but I had to work and was unable to take the days off.

My cousin came up and we had a good time, with some comfort food and music, and playing games and just generally talking until early in the morning.

About 1:00 in the morning, my dog decided she had to go out, so I let her out, standing out on my front porch.

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There was a chill in the air, as is typical for a fall in the Mountain State, but there were alot of nightly noises.

My dog stayed close to the house, in the light, straying only to the edge of it and staying there.

I noticed a light then, drifting too high to be someone carrying a flashlight or a phone, which came around the trees from my neighbors home, across the road, around another neighbor’s car and then drifting to the woodline down the road where it disappeared.

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I’ve seen things out of the corner of my eye before, and it startled me to be sure, but I let it go and didn’t think much of it.

I mentioned it to my cousin, as strange as she could see me staring at it from inside the house but hadn’t seen it herself.

This MAY have been my mistake, but I cannot say for certain.

We continued our night as though nothing had happened, and she left about 2:30 in the morning.  I walked her to her car.  It was still a very clear night and fairly noisy.  She drove off, and I went back inside.

My dog was agitated and antsy, so I decided to settle in for a bit to see if this would let her in turn, calm down.   It did not.  So I took it to mean she needed to go outside.

It was now 3:00 in the morning and I stepped out onto the porch I’d just been on not half an hour prior.  It was dead silent and there was a thick fog that had rolled in out of nowhere.  My dog had her hackles raised and darted into the dark out of sight in the fog, definitely not in her nature.

I didn’t want to wake up my neighbors, but I was instantly on edge, peering through the fog trying to discern where she’d gone, hissing her name.  She came back several minutes later, coming just into the light from the porch, stopped and turned her head to look behind her, and wagged her tail, then came trotting back to me.

I was straining my ears, as she was obviously reacting to someone, and hesitantly called out “Brent, is that you?” hoping my neighbor was outside for some unknown reason at three in the morning and I just couldn’t see him.  What met my ears, however, was a scream.

I jumped, but then let out a sigh.

It was bone-chilling and sounded very much like a woman’s scream.  My brain automatically began rationing, as I calmed my hammering heart, that it was a fox.

And then I heard distant laughter.  Males, though I couldn’t make out the conversation.  Again, while it alarmed me, I figured one of the neighbourhood houses were having some sort of party and people were goofing around on a porch and was about to laugh, when I heard a horse.

Now, I should mention, that while I live in a rural area, no one for several miles has horses.  I was quick to head into the house, and was unable to sleep for several hours.  In fact, it was dawn before I was able to settle enough to sleep.

It was several days later and the family was back from their trip.  I was up before any of them, and took the dog outside as part of the morning routine. That thick fog and deep silence was back, and I felt uneasy, but let it go.

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She went out and came back to the porch, calm as calm could be.  And we were about to go back in when there was a low whistling from the dark around the side of my house, in the yard next to the wood.  My dog instantaneously perked her ears up and trotted to the stairs leading to that part of the yard with her tail wagging.

I couldn’t see anyone but I could sense that someone was there, and it unnerved me.  So I called to the dog and we headed back into the house, where I shut and locked the door up tight.

My parents got up and got ready for work, we made breakfast and I didn’t mention this to them, as they tend to make light of things and make me feel like I’ve gone crazy because “these things don’t exist.”

I was in for the shock of a lifetime though.

Because I heard my father swear, which he never does, when he opened up the door to use the remote start on his car and ensured it turned on so the heat would get started, as it was a very chilly morning.

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My mother and I both looked and there, sitting on the porch was my dog, who wagged her tail at us, and then bolted off of the porch into the fog.

Dad started out the door after her, and mom was on his heels, but they both stopped when I, panicked now, shouted for them NOT to go outside.

We’d all seen her, collar and all on my porch, but in the midst of the arguing, I pointed out that our dog was asleep on the floor in the living room, and I didn’t know what was outside but I was very much afraid.

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I have a set of old iron keys that I use for a decoration, which I retrieved from the wall with a look that did not barter room for discussion and I walked my parents to their car.

Nothing has happened since, and the feeling of foreboding is gone now, but I have been carrying these large heavy iron keys to and from my car when I leave the house after dark.

I’m taking every available precaution, paying close attention to my surroundings.  My feelings of peace are restored when i’m outside in the daytime, but I can remember every detail about that encounter and it’s stuck with me and I’m finding myself gazing into the dark expanse between my car and the wood line almost every night as I head out for work.

Jennifer – West Virginia, U.S.

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Encounters with Tommyknockers

knocker mine

I worked for several years as a guide on an historic silver mine tour during it’s annual 100+ day season. Actually, I worked one off season as a miner in a gold mine, and the following summer was a tour guide there. I also spent several months working on a mine closing project. This was all in Colorado in the 1990s.

I am a clairvoyant and have had many experiences with ghosts, the little people (or the Good People, as you prefer), and a few entities I don’t know how to label. So, here goes about the Tommyknockers.

Tommyknockers are entities who live underground, who can and do interact with humans who are underground. Sometimes they are seen. Belief in them is widespread, and they are known by many names, in many places.

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Calling them Knockers or Tommyknockers comes from the miners in Cornwall, and is the name generally used by hardrock miners in North America, because of the many Cornish miners who worked here in the 1800s.

I’ve been told that in Wales, from where some of my mother’s ancestors came, they were called the Koblinau.

One day at the gold mine, I was telling a tour group about the Tommyknockers, and a lady who was from Czechoslovakia (before it became the Czech Republic), spoke up and said that they had such beings in her old country. She called them the Permonik. (There should be an inverted v symbol over the E but I don’t have that font.)

A week or so later, at the silver mine, there was a lady from the Czech Republic on the tour. When I got to the part about the Tommyknockers, I stopped and asked her if she knew about the Permonik. The question surprised her, but she admitted that she did. I asked her to please tell the group about them. She did, and what she said was almost word for word what I normally told groups about them.

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Like most of the little people, the Tommyknockers can be anything from friendly and helpful, to malicious and vindictive. According to the lore, they might knock on the rock or timbers to warn a miner of danger (and, seriously, rock and timber noise can be a sign of danger), or they might blow out his candle, back in the days when they worked by candlelight.

There are stories of them leading lost miners to safety after they lost their lights, and even of them leading the miners to richer ore. On the other hand, they might also put out a miner’s light maliciously, dump his lunch, hide his tools or drop them down a winze, trip him, and so on.

Because of this, many miners had a habit of leaving a bit of food or tobacco for them, and some mines even had carved images of Tommyknockers at the portals, for the miners to touch for luck going in, or in thanks when coming out safely.

Such heathen practices were undoubtedly preached against on Sunday morning, but then again, the preacher wasn’t the one going underground into the Tommyknocker’s territory the other six days of the week!

When I first started working at the silver mine tour, I wasn’t sure about the Tommyknockers, and didn’t bother bringing them up. Then one day (before I worked at the gold mine) I was visiting the gold mine, and the owner offered me a chance to go down into the older parts of the mine, far below the level where visitors normally were allowed.

With a borrowed helmet and lamp, I descended an old wooden ladder down the winze into the old workings, various levels a hundred feet apart dating back to the 1800s. I was alone, and the only light was the one on my helmet.

It was strange, so quiet and hushed. But I wasn’t alone. I could feel someone with me, showing me around. It wasn’t scary at all. It was a warm feeling. I explored the lower reaches of the mine, then eventually climbed back up to the main level and daylight.

After that, I started noticing things like movement in the corners, and sounds, when underground. I read whatever I could find about the Tommyknockers, and I started telling visitors about them. Perhaps because I was friendly and respectful, I had few problems with them (although that was not the case with some others of the little people, but that’s another story).

Granted, most of the visitors didn’t consider the Tommyknockers as much more than an amusing piece of mining folklore, but with most groups there was usually someone, often a child, who was quite interested.

One one tour, there was a Lakota from Canada who was quiet during the tour, but who got quite interested when I started talking about the Tommyknockers. He listened intently then nudged the person with him. “He’s talking about the Little People!” he exclaimed. I spoke with him for a while after the tour, and he shared some beliefs which were very similar.

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Unfortunately, there were also those, usually adolescent males, who would interrupt me to scoff at such things.

I was willing to overlook such rudeness, but the Tommyknockers weren’t.

Mocking the Tommyknockers when one is underground is very foolish.

When it happened on my tour, someone would get hurt. It was never the rude scoffer, but rather the adult who was with them.

It would be minor things, like bumping one’s head, or tripping and falling, it scraping one’s hand on the rock, but it happened every time.

I have no idea why the escorting adult was targeted rather than the young scoffer, but that is what happened. I decided to take action. One day I went back into the mine by myself, and respectfully told the Tommyknockers that the scoffers were young, stupid and ignorant, but hurting people was not acceptable. I knew I couldn’t force the Tommyknockers to behave, but I pointed out that I was their friend, and asked was I not always respectful?

I told them that I could stop telling people about them, however, and that is what I was going to do, if the retaliation didn’t end. Apparently, they enjoyed being talked about, and so there was no more retaliations, at least not on my tours.

Actually it seemed that at least some of the Tommyknockers enjoyed interacting with the tours. Quite often, when the tales were being told, when the knocking on rocks was mentioned, there would be a knocking on the rocks with uncannily perfect timing, from the closed part of the mine.

One day when I was taking a tour off, another guide came up to me after his tour and told me that I had caused quite a sensation during his tour. I asked him what he was talking about. He replied, “All those Tommyknocker noises.” I assured him that I hadn’t set foot in the mine during that tour, and all the other guides had been busy with their own groups.

One day, I had a new employee going on my tour with me to see how it was done.

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When I mentioned knocking on the rocks, there was very definite knocking on the rocks, which got at least some reaction from the visitors.

Afterword, the new employee asked, “Where’s the button?”.

Puzzled, I asked, “What button?”.

The button you push to make the Tommyknocker noises,” she replied.

No, my dear, there was no such button.

*

Part of the folklore about which I was skeptical were the reports about Tommyknockers celebrating Christmas. Although I was aware that the Little People reportedly like celebrations, I considered that celebrating Yule was much more likely for the Tommyknockers, than Christmas would be.

But be that as it may, I walked up through the snow to the mine one cold December night, and let myself in. I didn’t turn on the electric mains, but used a personal light to go several hundred feet into the mine. I sat down on a bench in the well- timbered area we called the lunchroom, lit a candle, and switched off my light and waited.

After a bit, I asked if the Tommyknockers were there. Immediately, right in front of me, there was the sharp sound of two rocks knocking together, even though no loose moving rocks were to be seen.

I asked if that was the Tommyknockers, and once again, there was an immediate clashing together of two unseen rocks. Well, that was good enough for Galena Bob!

I had hoped to sing for them (Welsh ancestry on my mother’s side, you recall), as I had been told the Good People enjoy music, but I had a sore throat, and had to whistle instead.

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I whistled every holiday tune I knew.

After a time, even that began irritating my throat, and I knew that I was going to have to stop soon.

I wished them a happy holiday, turned on my light, and blew out the candle.

As I walked along the adit, heading back to the portal, I resumed whistling.

And someone began whistling along with me…

One more piece of information. Although this extreme behavior is outside my own experience, MaryJoy Martin in her book ‘Twilight Dwellers of Colorado’, reports that the Martin R. Mine at Cripple Creek, Colorado, had Tommyknockers who were extremely vicious.

They would, she reports, deliberately lead miners into danger. They would break timbers and cut cables, and caused premature blasts.

Galena Bob. U.S.

Voices From Below

Peter, and his elder sister, recall an incredible, and terrifying, tale of hearing inexplicable voices down a narrow mine pit while driving through County Waterford in 1969.

Particularly compelling is that these voices, though not recognizable as a language, sent a clear message. Thanks to Peter for sharing.   Cheers, Kitty.

*

 

dublin 1969

 Dublin, Ireland. 1969.

It was 1969.  My dad brought us to Ireland.  The plan was to visit Dublin, and then go to a pig farm, I don’t know where.  The farm belonged to the mother of a priest my dad knew.

My dad was 100% Irish blood— O’Neils and Rooneys from County Louth.  They emigrated during the famine and wound up in California, probably looking for gold.

I was 13.  My sister was about 23.  Her then husband was along— a big guy, maybe 6’1”. One day the two of them decided to rent a car and drive to Cork  and I went with them.

county waterford ireland com 

County Waterford. Image: ireland.com

 

We decided to take a coastal route (through Waterford), and along that route, at some point, we saw a huge bull.  We stopped the car and got out a look.bull (2)

That’s when we saw a sign saying “Danger. Open Mines.”

We found a deep rock pit, almost perfectly square and perfectly vertical, like an elevator shaft through stone, but with a sloped opening so you didn’t dare get close.  It was terrifying, and completely unprotected.

We stood there, amazed and a little thrilled by the danger of it.  We couldn’t get close but we could see it was deep.  And then we heard high pitched sounds from inside the mine shaft.

mine hole (2)For a few seconds we stood there trying to figure out what could be making those sounds.  There were a lot of them.  And here’s the thing— that shaft was a one-way road for anything bigger than an ant or a bird.

If you went down, you weren’t coming back, so we were mystified about what could be down there.  It wasn’t the sound of any birds we knew.

And suddenly, we realized, unspoken, that we were listening to voices in conversation.  And without a word between us we RAN to the car, terrified, even the six-footer, a guy as big as a football player.

We had to drive a pretty good distance before we could stop and laugh and ask ourselves what had just happened, and what or whom we had just heard.

I thought about this story a lot on a recent trip back to Ireland.  I told my son about it and he became intrigued and he worked with me to find the spot.  I researched abandoned mines and found the site pretty quickly.  I won’t advertise the location.  Then my son found the exact spot on Google Earth, and we could actually see the mine.

I wrote an e-mail home about it, and my sister, now in her 70s, responded with the same urgency we’d felt back then.

*

“With a few variants (which I hope to send to Peter and Rafferty), I can confirm this story. 

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As I think I wrote earlier, I remember being drawn, first, towards a high pitched, but not unpleasant or shrill, chorus of sounds.  Especially for Peter and me, I recall that interest and desire to check it out.  

I remember that the sounds were emanating from below, and that we were in taller grasses, looking for the source, and that it was extremely curious, and even musical, in a very strange way, considering where we were– essentially, to me, a small area of shoreline field. 

Then, as we got closer, these somewhat musical sounds either changed (as I experienced it,) or revealed themselves to be what those who use captions know as the generic “indistinct chatter.”  

In this case, high-pitched, and interactive, and certainly not animal, vegetable, or mineral, much less human.  Not directed to us, but possibly related to our presence, with the gist becoming more excitable.  

I remember the second it became “unamusing” and meeting Peter’s eyes, the recognition that this occurrence had the same effect on him — we were fairly near to each other– and the unspoken, unanimous, instinctual response: Not right! Flee! Now! with a strong, shared, also unspoken, undercurrent of Not for Us! (whatever this is…

I guess the thing that feels strongest in my memory is how instant the shift was, from odd and curious, to, as we got closer and the sounds changed, “Hell, No! WRONG! FAST! OUT!””

*

I have no explanation for what happened to us, or for what we heard and felt that day.

I’ve read stories of “fairy” experiences in Ireland, and ours doesn’t seem to jibe with what I’ve read.  But it was a powerful experience that bore no resemblance to “leprechauns” we knew of from cereal boxes.  We had no reason to think of fairies or leprechauns as something that might be frightening.

Peter.

The Midnight Walker

This occurred in the summer of the year 2019, in Manorhamilton. County Leitrim, Ireland.mai caravan (2)

For about a month and a half, I was living in a caravan in the backyard of a man I was working for. Most nights were peaceful and quiet, but some nights I could hear someone, or something, walking around the caravan.

Every time I would look out of the window, I would see nothing, even though I would clearly hear someone walking right beside the caravan. The yard was surrounded by very high walls, so no human could enter the premises.

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It could not have been my boss, as the noises happened also at nights when he was away in Dublin. And even if he wasn’t, I don’t know of any man that can circle a caravan yet be invisible, especially since in the beginning of the Irish summer even as late as 11:30 there’s still light outside, so if anything visible was there, I would see it.

I know it could not have been any animal, since the sounds of this “being” walking around the caravan was clearly something which was walking on two legs, one step at a time. The steps were always graceful and gentle, yet too heavy, and two-legged to be any animal that lives in Ireland.

And all of that is without regarding how any human or huge animal could cross the walls surrounding the premises? Or more than that, be invisible? It clearly sounded like as if a grown human was walking there, yet each time I would take a look, nothing was visible. After I established it was no human or animal, I tried to think what could it be, but found no logical explanation.

mais moon (2)Most nights it was quiet. But even the nights in which I did hear the noises of something circling the caravan, it was seldom something that went on all night. But things changed towards my last two weeks there.

One night a friend of mine came over to stay at my place. So we both slept in the caravan that night. We were about to fall asleep, but then started hearing noises of something walking around the caravan. That’s when I knew none of it was my imagination playing games on me, it was all real.

My friend got a bit nervous, but I told him to not worry too much and to go to sleep. I was very tired and fell asleep right away. But in the morning, my friend shared with me he experienced several strange things at night after I fell asleep. He said he saw a human size shadow passing by the window, and claims to have heard knocking on the caravan for a long time until he finally fell asleep. When he shared with me what he has heard and seen, I wasn’t surprised at all.

The days went by, and every now and then I would hear the walking noises and soft knocking. And then came my last week in the caravan, after that I was due to leave and move on to my next destination in Ireland.

One night I went to sleep, and the walking noises woke me up for being so strong. It made me feel quite uncomfortable. I stayed up and listened to the eerie noises. Since they were louder than usual, I was now afraid of this unknown being. And even though it never caused me any harm, I started banging on the caravan’s wall, to cast away the being. A side in me wanted to let this being expose itself to me, as it was no ordinary experience. But my biological instincts were too strong, and made me fear the unknown being. Not long after I fell asleep.

Another day has passed, and night came. But no noises were heard that night, as if the being knew it was no longer wanted and welcomed.  The night after that was my last night in the caravan before moving on to a new place. I was utterly baffled, I kept telling myself that I still don’t know what that being was, and that it was my last chance to see what it was.  But at the same time, I could not forget how fearful I was last time I had heard the being. Right before I went to bed, I circled the caravan to see if I could see or hear anything, but nothing was there.

I went to bed with a strong sour feeling, knowing I won’t have another chance to see the being, all because I couldn’t overcome my natural fear of the unknown. I had a genuine will by then to encounter the being again. And just as I thought that, I heard the being once more. The walking noises around the caravan were now louder than ever. As soon as that happened I was struck with fear and regretted my wish to encounter the being once more. The noises were so much more profound that night, I really couldn’t ignore them and go to sleep. It was as if the being knew it was my last night there and wanted to make contact with me.

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Being more afraid than any of the nights before, I banged on the caravan walls as strong as I could, and shouted at the being to leave me alone in every language I can speak. But it was all in vain, the noises kept on going.

As loud as the noises were this time, they were still soft and gentle. Desperate what to do, I rang my mother all the way to the other side of the world for advice. She tried to think of logical explanations, but when all were ruled out, she asked me what did I think it was.

Studying the world of Faerie was something I had done all my life, yet I never heard of such an encounter. Some Faerie beings are tricksters, who like to mess around with people and scare them, but I was certain that wasn’t the case, since the being could scare me way more if it wanted to. It could scream, and bang the caravan with power to achieve “Maximum mischief”, but the noises were always gentle and soft.

Additionally, I could never see the being, when a classic mischiefer would wear a scary appearance to scare you as much as possible, yet I could never see it. After assuming it was no faerie (even though there thousands of types of faeries, and I cannot rule it out completely as we have such little knowledge of all the kinds), I started thinking of a new, different direction. Could it be, well, a ghost?

Reading about ghost encounters in the past, it was indeed similar to what I was experiencing. Still on the phone with my mother, (a complete sceptic regarding such topics) she noted her great aunt always claimed ghosts were usually simply misunderstood. My mother told me “Mai, did this being ever do anything to harm you? Maybe it’s just trying to befriend you.”

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After that, since it was late, we ended the call and I had time to think of what my mother had told me. The more I thought about it, and thought of all that happened so far, the more it made sense to me. This ghost never did anything aggressive towards me. I became silent and wanted to see what will happen. But the noises still scared the biological side of me, so I decided to watch a show on my laptop in bed to distract myself from the noises. But I was more receptive to the ghost now.

I said to the being in the night air that I’m sorry for trying to cast it away, and that it is welcomed to stay. I watched my show and still heard the noises in the background. When the episode on my laptop ended, I clearly heard a soft, yet clear feminine voice saying a word which I could not understand. I was astonished, but too scared to keep listening.

I put another episode, and when it ended I heard the exact same soft voice saying that word once more. By now it was very, very late, and I put on another episode and fell asleep.

In the morning, still in awe by the night events, I walked around the caravan to see something that shocked me. A huge hole in the stone wall. I looked inside the hole, and there was an abandoned home. “How didn’t I noticed that before?”, I thought to myself.

Later that day I asked my boss who used to live there, and he said he did not know, but that it’s been abandoned for at least more than 20 years.

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And so, me and the ghost parted ways. I often wonder who was the ghost and what did it want from me. Based on all I’ve heard, I think the being was some sort of form of a female ghost. I guess I’ll never know. But I and the being will always have the memories of our time together.

I often wonder what would have happened if I was more brave that night.

Mai