Short Haunts - Haunted Moves

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Admit your story to Haunted UK Fiction at hotmail dot com and follow us on Instagram at Haunted UK fiction. So, whether it's truth or fiction, if it's haunted we wanted. Now sit back and enjoy the episode. This is the Haunted UK Podcasts Short Haunts. Welcome dear listeners to our series of short haunts. A shot of scary just for you, So grab a hot chocolate, maybe a t or maybe something stronger because this is Haunted UK Podcasts Short Haunts.

Haunted Moves. We've heard so many times about people who seem to attract paranormal and supernatural activity. They can have multiple experiences, whilst many others have none. But this short haunt is different. This short haunt tells the story of a person who appears to have the ability to actually sense the paranormal and supernatural, a kind of sixth sense

if you like. Joanne's house moving history is a bit extensive, to say the least, and during the numerous moves between properties, some of them have proved to hold more than just good memories. They've held something else, something from the past, maybe something that may have crossed the veil and stayed in our dimension. But Joanne's story actually begins when she was just a young girl. So with that said, let's hand this over to Joanne. I grew up in the

West Country in the nineteen seventies. When I was a little girl, my parents would take me to National Trust properties at the weekends and holidays because they were members and it was a cheap day out. Even at that age,

I started to notice something odd. I'd enter a room in a National Trust property and get a peculiar sensation up the side of my neck and on my shoulder, as if someone was standing very close behind me, when nobody was at that point, the guide would invariably say, no doubt, due to the interest in the supernatural during that time, that this room was rumored to be haunted, and then they'd tell a lurid story about a murder

that had taken place in that very room. To date, this feeling persists, and there are some places where I get that odd sensation. Very occasionally this will escalate to blinding headaches, resulting in me having to leave a room or property, but that only happened three times. In my thirties, I studied psychology and aced cognitive psychology my favorite module. This enabled me to ground myself in science and explain a lot of the things that happened to me, such

as coincidences, sleep related hallucinations or tricks of perception. I also found out about low frequency sand waves such as infrasund and their effects on the brain. This enabled me to make peace with myself and to push the odd little things that occurred when I was younger and living a more bohemian lifestyle aside. Since then, though, I've moved around the country a lot, from the West Country to

the Midlands, Scotland, the Southeast and Wales. I've lived in approximately eighteen properties and experienced things that I couldn't explain with my scientific brain in three of them. These are the stories of those properties. In nineteen ninety seven, my then boyfriend Richard and I moved into a house in Griffydam, Leicestershire. It was a new property and I think the people we were renting it off, mister and Missus Barker, had actually built it. We were very happy to be there.

It had large rooms, it was airy, and the kitchen was awesome, which was great for me as I loved cooking, and the views at the back were stunning. We'd come from the center of Leicester, Braunston Town and a grim terraced house on Ravenhurst Road which was poorly maintained by the landlord and dark inside. Suddenly we were in this beautiful light space. We got on with unpacking and the various other tasks involved with moving into a new property.

But as the day turned to evening, I started to get that sensation up my neck, and as I unpacked all the things for the kitchen, I thought I could see shadows from the corner of my eyes. I pushed it aside and got on with stuff, but I noticed that in the late afternoon and evening, I would get that strange feeling. It seemed to own get triggered when I was in an area or room towards the front of the house. The back of the house, the living room,

dining room, and back bedroom were all fine. This didn't make any sense to me. Again, I tried to ignore it because I didn't want to be afraid of anything. Additionally, Richard and I did not have a happy relationship, and I didn't want to upset him the slightest thing and he'd freeze me out and sulk for days. I didn't have many friends at that time, so I relied on him.

One evening, i'd come home from work. I worked as a secretary at the time because it was an easy way in those days to make money, and I had no interest in studying at that time of life. I was alone in the kitchen and my head was full of office gossip. I was chopping salad on the kitchen surface because it was a warm day and we were going to have a cold supper. I was thinking about work and the fact I was hungry and happily cutting

up cucumbers and tomatoes. When I looked down past my elbow, and there was a pair of feet in fine black shoes. Attached to these feet were legs in black trousers. But that was as much as I could see from the angle I was stood at. I thought to myself, I didn't hear Richard come in, and why is he wearing smart shoes? I turned around and there was no one there. I dashed out of the kitchen through the lobby, which was a large area at the bottom of the stairs,

and into the living room. There was Richard slouched on a chair, eyes fixed on the TV. I asked him if he'd been in the kitchen, and he said he hadn't. I told him there must be someone in the house because I'd seen someone behind me in the kitchen. Richard rose reluctantly and searched the house. All the doors were locked, and there was no one in the building except us. He went back to his TV show. I returned to the kitchen, but I could still feel the sensation in

my neck and shoulder. Whatever it was, it was still here, and it wasn't a person. It was something else right. I thought, I can't be putting up with this, so I decided to have a little chat with it hi, I said, softly, confident that Richard wouldn't hear because the TV was on. I'm Joe and him in the living room. That's Richard. We're renting this place for a year. After a year will be gone. I know you've probably been around here a lot longer, and we won't disturb you.

I was wondering, though, please, can you not come up behind me like that again? You see, you could scare me and I could drop a plate and smash it or something, and if I do that, he'll get angry with me because plates cost money and we don't have it. I then finished making dinner. After that conversation, nothing happened, and I wasn't scared. In that house, the electricity had a habit of going off, and it was always at

around two am. For some reason. We had a prepaid meter which was located on the outside of the building, so to get the electricity back on, I'd have to creep downstairs in the pitch darkness, go through the lobby, which didn't have any windows, out of the house, and down to the meter. By pressing the emergency button, you'd get a few hours of electricity. Richard would never do this,

so it was always left to me. But even this chore groping my way around in the dark, I still wasn't scared because I didn't have that feeling up the side of my neck. I knew I was alone and there wasn't anything waiting for me down there in the dark. When the twelve months was up, we moved out, and on the last day, as I was hacking boxes, I did feel the presence for the last time. It was as if it knew I was going and it wanted

to say goodbye to me. This may have been entirely my imagination, but I do like to think that it came back to see me one last time. A few years later, around the year two thousand, I found myself living with another man who was to become my first husband. Up in Aberdeen. I was working as an administrative assistant in the public sector and a little group of us women used to go for coffee. One morning, one of the girls, whose name was Emma, said, there's a ghost

in my house. We all looked up, somewhat surprised, as this was not the normal morning conversation. Emma went on to explain that in the morning she'd wake up and go to the bathroom, and while she was cleaning her teeth, the stereo in her room would turn itself on and loud music would begin blasting out, waking up her parents. As you can imagine, this got Emma into trouble as her parents didn't believe she wasn't doing it. Turn the stereo off at the mains, I suggested, I can't what

if it went off when it was unplugged. I'd be so scared you. I remembered my experiences in Griffidam okay. So, say you've got a ghost in the house and it likes music, right, it always plays the Spice Girls for some reason, Emma replied. We all laughed at that. So I suggested, when you're by yourself, say to it that you understand it likes music, but it's turning the stereo on too loud, and it's getting you into trouble with your parents. Ask it to turn the music on quietly

next time. That's a compromise. A few days went by and Emma said nothing of the experience again until I asked her, what about your ghost? Then she looked at me and said, very tersely, I did what you said, and when I came back from the bathroom. The music was playing really quietly. She never spoke of it again. I got the impression the outcome of my advice had frightened her more. As I mentioned earlier, I lived in eighteen properties over my somewhat chaotic life, but only three

of them harbored experiences which I would deem paranormal. You've now heard about Griffidam, so let's move on to the next one, the house in Bosham, West Sussex, where I lived with my ex Jack, who is the father of my son. Jack and I were dreaming big when we bought the house in Bosham. We were child free and at the time both of us had good jobs. It was a beautiful detached five bedroom house on a corner plot.

It was three stories tall and in the West Sussex Dark Skies conservation area, so there were no street lamps on the surrounding roads. It was and still remains my dream house. I even used to call it the House of dreams because quite frankly, we had our heads stuck in the clouds when we bought it. It would soon become very obvious that we couldn't actually afford it. When

I first looked around the property. I sensed a bit of an atmosphere of dread in the attic conversion that housed bedrooms at the top of the house, but it wasn't enough to put me off. Speaking honestly, nothing could have put us off from buying that place. We put in an offer and it was accepted. There was the usual protracted house sale nightmare, but after what seemed like a lifetime, we finally moved in. Almost immediately I noticed

things were a bit off. The washing machine would switch itself on, it would audibly beep, then the light would go on and it would begin running a cycle. We'd had that washing machine secondhand from Jack's parents, and they didn't report it doing anything like that, nor did it do it when we transferred it to the house in Cardiff. I also kept finding the back door open when I knew i'd shut it. I'd shut the door, certain that I'd locked it, only to find it unlocked and wide open.

This happened regularly when we first moved in, but suddenly stopped with no explanation. Jack wasn't in the habit of leaving doors open, so this was strange. I wasn't doing anything differently either when it stopped happening, which didn't make sense. On one occasion, I was alone in the dining room doing some dusting when I felt something blow sharply in my ear. The strange incidents continued to happen, with another

strange encounter occurring in the master bedroom. I was dusting when for some reason I turned around to be met with a cloud of mist floating by the bedside table. I stood looking at it for a while until it gradually faded away. I didn't feel so much frightened as fascinated. I didn't like being in the house by myself, but I'm a keen gardener, so I spent a lot of time outside when nothing ever really happened. Jack would roll his eyes at my experiences. Being a stornch atheist, he

simply didn't believe in anything spiritual, paranormal, or supernatural. We eventually got two cats, Meg and Mark, and I still have Meg to this day, but even they knew there was something wrong with that house. Meg went missing for six weeks. We'd put up posters, searched all over for her, done everything we possibly could, but we couldn't find her. We'd given her up for lost or dead when suddenly we got a call from a vet to tell us

someone had handed her in. I often wonder if something frightened her so much that she left the house and didn't want to come back. Mark had his own odd behaviors. He'd stand in the kitchen, sackles raised, staring through the dining room at something that I couldn't see, then cower. I'd tried to stroke him, jolly him out of it, but he remained terrified, so I'd take him in my arms and carry him through the dining room, past the hall where the front door was, and into the living room.

Only then would he settle down. Tragically, Mag's life would come to an end far too soon. I went away to Geneva to deliver training at the International Labor Office, leaving Jack alone at the house. One night, Mag didn't come home, and he didn't turn up the next day either. Jack didn't want to worry me, so he didn't say anything when I called. A couple of days after Marg had vanished, Jack heard a terrible yowling coming from downstairs. It was late in the evening and Jack was upstairs.

He raced down to find Mag in the hallway by the front door, howling. His back was broken, but he'd managed to drag himself back to the house on his two front legs. Somehow, through all the pain, he got through the cap flap. Jack immediately took him to the emergency vet, but there was no hope of recovery. The best thing to do for Mark was to end the

pain and suffering, so he was put to sleep. When I returned, Jack told me what had happened, and when I was done crying, it suddenly occurred to me that the spot Jack found him was the same spot he used to stare at when he'd have his weird episodes in the kitchen. I didn't know what to make of it then, and I still don't know what to make of it now. My partner Jack had a child from a previous relationship called Laura, who used to stay with

us every other weekend. One Sunday afternoon, we drove her back to her mum's then returned to the house, arriving late in the evening. We opened the back door as we never used the front door, and went into the kitchen. We poured ourselves a glass of wine and went into the living room. The whole house felt wrong. I can't explain it, but it felt vile, unwelcoming, cold and threatening. We sat in the living room and looked at each other. Jack I said, can you feel something a bit off

about the house? Yes, he replied, it feels absolutely fucking horrible in here. Jack I replied, I can make this go away, but you have to work with me, okay, he said. We went through every room of that house, holding hands, telling each other that we owned this house and that we loved each other, and that we weren't prepared to put up with this. It sounds crazy, but

everything pretty much stopped. A couple of months later, we were forced to admit our mortgage payments were too high and that we couldn't afford to continue living in the house. We made the decision to rent it out, moved to South Wales for a year because my work had offices there, and in Hampshire. We rented the house out and after a year the mortgage repayments went down significantly, so we decided to move back, determined this time to make a

go of it. The tenants who had been renting the house were a large group of colleagues from Eastern Europe. During their tenancy, they didn't report anything untoward happening, but something seemed to stick out to me. They seemed to be incredibly eager to leave. This left us needing a lodger our first one. Vienna was fine in the house, and it certainly seemed a much nicer place to be than the previous time we'd live there. But Vienna moved

on and Sarah moved in. Sarah didn't like being alone in the house at all, and when she told me that she was going to move out, she informed me of a conversation that she had with her blind grandmother after her grandmother had visited her at the house. Although Sarah thought the visit had gone well, her grandmother had apparently picked up on the strange, ominous atmosphere the house seemed to harbor, but she didn't tell Sarah about her feelings until she found out that Sarah was moving out.

Sarah's grandmother was a psychic, and she told her that it was the right decision to leave because the house was haunted. She'd even performed a protection ritual in Sarah's room. Strangely enough, I never had any other experiences in that room, but I did have an unexpected problem. I was pregnant, and even with lodgers, we knew we wouldn't be able to afford to keep the house, so that was it. We sold the House of Dreams and moved to Cardiff

eight months after our baby, Charlie was born. One thing I always knew but didn't really talk about, was the fact that the house was very moody. I know that sounds silly, but it's completely true, because sometimes it would feel okay, yet other times it felt menacing. As I've already described. One of our lodgers, Sophie described it perfectly by saying, it's like you're a guest and the house suddenly wants you to leave, like you're suddenly very unwelcome.

That's exactly how it felt. I lasted about a year in Cardiff on good terms with Jack, but spent the next year breaking up with him. Family life didn't suit him well at all. We fell out with each other during COVID and I ended up moving into a small airb and b in Rowth, while Jack stayed in the Cardiff house until it was sold. We split custody of Charlie fifty fifty and in the meantime I'd put an offer in for a house in Cumbran, where I now live.

Buying and selling houses is a nightmare to begin with, but in COVID it was even harder. Eventually, in June twenty twenty, I moved into my forever home in Cambran. The day I got the keys, I still had the AIRB and B, so the plan was to move to the new house gradually. I visited the house with Charlie, who was two at the time, to unpack some bits

and pieces. The sellers couldn't get rid of their late mother's furniture because the charity shops were closed, so I ended up with all of it, including her bed, which I slept him for about six months until I could afford a new one. Charlie was incredibly excited, jumping up and down on the bed and exploring the new house. We were downstairs in the open plan dining and living room when the following conversation happened. Charlie stood in the living room and said, Mummy, who's that man? Who is

what man? Pickle? I replied that man over there? He pointed towards the dining room. Oh can you see someone out the window? Darling, No, Mummy, he's in the room. Said Charlie. Okay, I said, but there is no man there, sweetheart. We went into the hall, and as I was getting my coat on, Charlie spoke again, who's that lady coming downstairs? I don't know, pickle, I said, and then we left. There had only been us in the house, and Charlie had never done that before, and he hasn't done it

since the first week of living there. I was sleeping the nights on a dead woman's bed, trying to squeeze my furniture in with hers, negotiating all the COVID stuff, and trying to start a new life, which was difficult because my ex Jack was sleeping on the couch downstairs. His house purchase had fallen through and he needed somewhere to stay. One afternoon, Charlie was bouncing on the bed.

Jack was lurking about downstairs, and I was coming out of the bathroom and onto the landing at the top of the stairs, and there she was, a woman in blue. She was there for a second and I saw her face, then she disappeared. At that point I lost my temper. Leave us alone, I snapped, in a quiet, hissy but angry voice, Get the fuck out this is my house and I will not put up with it. Nothing has happened since, but I must admit that I feel a bit sad because I never found out who the lady

in blue was. She might have been a vision from God of the blessed Virgin Mary coming to reassure me that everything was okay, and I swore at her. I don't really believe that, but I did see her. I do know that when I said that nothing has happened since, that's not quite true. There is something that has remained since my swearing episode. As I mentioned, I love cooking and baking, and if I'm ever making something complicated, I always feel a presence in the kitchen, not one of

dread or fear, but one of curiosity. I tend to think that it's either Glennis, the old lady who lived in the house before me before her death at the Royal Gwent Hospital, or Glennis's mum, who also lived and died in the house after a battle with cancer. According to the neighbors and Glennis's daughter, both Glennis and her mum were keen on baking. I now live very happily in my home in Combran, unbothered by anything strange or unusual. Jack is happily married and living fairly close by, which

means he gets to see Charlie every weekend. Speaking of Charlie, he's now a thriving six year old. As for me, well, I also remarried and am happy and enjoying life. Maybe if Griffy dam had happened on its own, I could have made some kind of peace and stopped wondering about it. But this little epilogue to the story I can't explain. I've had other things happen that I can't fully comprehend, but these are the incidents that stand out in my mind. It's strange in a sense because now I've typed this

out a sense of relief. It's been cathartic. Thanks for the podcast. My husband and I really like it. We like the way you present the facts and don't have any experts telling us how to think. It leaves us able to draw our own conclusions. One last thing, the one about the whale walls, was terrifying or the best Joanne? So, how do you explain the sensation that Joanne seems to be able to feel that strange feeling which travels through her shoulder and neck. Is this some sort of psychic power,

a gift that has somehow been bestowed to her. Another thing that repeats in Joanne's story is the fact that whenever she's communicated with a presence in a particular property, it seems to have listened. Is this another aspect of her abilities, the power to be able to speak to the spirits in these houses? These questions may remain unanswered for years to come, but Joanne's abilities cannot be quashed

as simple coincidence or natural occurrences. Something else seems to be at work here, something that may be way beyond our understanding. Is Joanne alone in the sense of her experiences? Maybe maybe not. But if you feel that you've got a similar story to tell, then get in touch with the show, because the next person's experience to feature as a short haunt could be yours. King