20 January 2016 | January 2016
How would you react if, in the dead of night, you were awakened by cold breath on your face and someone speaking in your ear? Terrifying!
We were all excited. Geology fieldtrips were always fun, and the teacher was a great guy and turned a blind eye in the evening, allowing us to smoke and drink if we so chose. Many of us were eighteen anyway, and the few who were not, were just months away. It was a dark Friday night, gloomy and dark even as we left the school gates in the minibus. We chatted and laughed in the back, telling stories and jokes to pass the three or so hours it would take to reach the hotel.
At the hotel, most of us were allocated shared rooms, but one or two—we thought them lucky—were allocated single rooms. I was sharing with a friend, and we simply dumped our rucksacks on the small single beds and headed to the restaurant for dinner. He claimed the bed by the door. Dinner was followed by a few pints at the bar and then a relatively early night, as it would be a crack of dawn start the following morning.
At breakfast, I noticed one of my colleagues looked rather pale. He told me he hadn’t slept so well, and after a little hesitation, he asked if I thought the hotel had a strange atmosphere. I hadn’t noticed anything, and it certainly wasn’t an old building or anything and so I told him I hadn’t. The following morning, he looked even more haggard, and he asked me again about my feelings regarding the hotel (I was known even then for seeing ghosts and feeling atmospheres). I again told him that I had felt nothing and had slept very well.
“Then I have to ask you something, but please keep it quiet,” he said, looking furtively about and speaking in a low voice.
“I know you will believe me, whereas others here will think me mad. There is something in my room,” he said.
“Something like what?”
He looked uncomfortable and embarrassed and then said, “A shadow. When I am half asleep, it is by my bed. I feel cold breath on my face, and a voice says to me, ‘Get out.’ That voice is a hoarse, whispering voice that sends shivers down my spine. I have never been so scared in all of my life.”
I nodded now, paying more attention.
“At first, I thought I was imagining it, but it kept happening all night long. I haven’t slept since we arrived and, last night, I kept the light on all night and it still happened. It is horrible. Horrible! I don’t know if I will ever be able to relax again.”
I didn’t know what to say really except to reassure him that things like this did happen and that he wasn’t losing his mind. I also told him that it most likely belonged to the room and wouldn’t, as he feared, follow him home.
I went up to his room. He was one of the ‘lucky’ ones who got a room to himself. It was similar to our room, except smaller, but there was a definite atmosphere in the room. It was quite oppressive and one of loneliness and depression. If I were to spend much time in that room, it would drive me nuts. Being a bit fearful back then, I didn’t want to stay in the room any longer than I had to nor did I try anything like contacting the presence. I simply told him that as we were checking out to leave, he should just mark it down to experience and try to forget about it.
It scared me too, to be honest. I could just imagine feeling a cold breath on my face in the dark of the night and hearing a disembodied voice tell me to ‘Get out.’ I would have done. Immediately.
Submitted by G. Michael Vasey from his ebook/audio book – My Haunted Life Too.
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