20 July 2024 | Hat Man, Shadow people, Your Stories, Your True Encounters
Despite the frequent unexplained occurrences at my wife’s clinic in The Foundry, I’d never felt genuinely afraid. As a believer in the paranormal, I was more intrigued than scared by the events. However, there came a point when I decided it was time to address the situation head-on.
It started on a sweltering summer evening. The shopping centre was closed, and I went to the store alone to restock supplies. The darkness didn’t bother me; in fact, part of me hoped to encounter something out of the ordinary.
I wasn’t disappointed. As I moved about the store, I became aware of a large, black shadow in the shape of a man. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and paced up and down the hallway of our clinic. I greeted him with a casual “G’day,” as I continued my work. The shadow kept its silent patrol, ignoring my attempts to engage.
This sighting was later corroborated by one of our clients, a self-proclaimed psychic. She not only sensed the presence of the shadow figure but insisted the whole store was haunted. She was keen to feature The Foundry on a TV show about hauntings, but the building’s owners declined.
The paranormal activity persisted: machines turning on and off by themselves, figures glimpsed walking about. While it wasn’t negatively impacting our business, it was becoming a nuisance for the staff. I decided it was time to clear the space.
I arrived early one morning, determined to rid the clinic of its spectral residents. To my surprise, I found the electricity was off in our store and the neighboring shops. I contacted the building owner, who sent an electrician. But, true to form, everything mysteriously powered back on before he arrived.
Alone in the store, I set about my task. I’d researched various methods: pouring sea salt in the corners of rooms, placing crystals, burning incense. I performed the usual invocations, hoping to clear out any unwanted entities. I’d asked the staff to stay away until I gave the all-clear.
Around 9 AM, I finished my work and sat at the reception desk to review appointments. An hour later, an eerie silence descended, as if the world had suddenly stopped. I felt paralyzed, rooted to my chair. Then, I heard it – a voice, right by my right ear, halfway between a whisper and a scream: “You’ll pay for this.”
The words were barely out of the air when the front door of the store slammed shut with a bang that seemed to shake the entire building.
The silence that followed was deafening. I sat there, my heart racing, processing what had just happened. It was the first time I’d felt truly rattled by my experiences at The Foundry.
Despite my efforts that day, it seemed clear that whatever presence or presences inhabited the old building weren’t planning on leaving quietly. The Foundry, with its long history dating back to the gold rush era, had accumulated more than just years – it had stories, maybe even souls, that weren’t ready to move on.
I left the store that day with a newfound respect for the unseen. While I wasn’t sure what exactly I’d stirred up with my attempt at clearing the space, I knew one thing for certain: The Foundry’s mysteries ran deeper than I’d ever imagined.
Submitted by Conarelli
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