This is a true 'ghost' story. It does not contain the superfluous embellishments of fictitious horror. But nevertheless, it remains to be the most terrifying ordeal I had experienced in my life.
There was nothing spooky or foreboding about my new flat in Normanby street. In fact, the two things that attracted me to the place was its sunny and cheerful aspect and the fact that it was a relatively new building untarnished by the presence of the past.
It was a very exciting time for me back then; Apart from moving in on my own, I had just landed a job as a Visual Arts Reviewer for a magazine. I was totally besotted by my cosy little flat. I pampered it like it was a new born baby. But as soon as the house warming party was over, a series of bizarre occurrences took place that defied belief.
The horror began to unfold on Tuesday. I asked who it was. But there was no answer. The knocking got louder and more desperate. Again, I asked who it was and again there was no answer. At that movement, I remembered a warning which an Albanian gypsy had conveyed to me when I was a little girl in my village, Macedonia. "Don't open your doors to strangers on a Tuesday because it is the day the living run away from inevitable death". But being the rational and highly curious person that I was, I dismissed the gypsy's words as pure superstition and opened the door. Immediately, I was pushed to the ground with great force by a terrified blonde-haired woman carrying a crying baby. She was hysterical with fright and rage.
"Get out of my place, let me live! Get out of my place, let me live! Let me live!"
I explained to her in a gentle and calm manner that she had in fact made a mistake and that she was in my flat. I have never witnessed or experienced so much fear and helplessness. As she was walking out, she turned around and looked at me with a pained and defeated expression.
"You know, I'm gone...I'm gone...I'm gone".
I made the decision to to report the incident to the police.
Two days later, I suddenly felt highly anxious and physically ill. I began to sweat profusely and soon after I suffered from severe abdominal cramps. It had nothing to do with what I had eaten, but more to do with a nagging intuitive feeling that something very horrible was going to happen and sure enough, it did.
It began with thumping and scratching noises on my lounge, kitchen and lounge room windows. Then came that terrifying sound of a baby laughing, intertwined with angry whispers. At that point I began to hyperventilate. I was totally terror- stricken. I quickly dialed my sister's number but suddenly remembered that I hadn't connected the phone yet! What an idiot! My immediate gut reaction was to rush into the kitchen and grab a couple of candles. No sooner had I done that then all the lights in my flat went out. I couldn't see any light shining through the crevices of my front door, so I assumed that the entire block of flats was experiencing a power failure. The Baby's laughter suddenly stopped and was replaced by a woman's loud sobs and wailing. I suddenly remembered reading somewhere that people, young people like myself, have actually died from fright. As soon as that HAPPY thought left my mind I heard and felt a scurrying of footsteps and choking noises from underneath my floor boards! I couldn't begin to understand what was going on. I was so petrified that I had severe problems breathing, so much so that I found it impossible to scream. I thought about my mother's garden and the piercing blue sky but it did not in any way alleviate the terror. But then, I suddenly remembered something else which the Albanian gypsy had told me in the village. "Never be alone at night on a Thursday because it is the day, the angry dead visit their earthly home for the last time". And then there was silence. But it wasn't a comforting, familiar silence. It was a menacing silence which carried a new and chilling horror! And then it happened! My bedroom door flung open but there was no one in there. The window was still closed and there was no sign that somebody had broken into my room. And then SHE appeared, or rather, her ghost appeared. She drifted through the left bedroom wall, a metre and a half above the ground and slowly drifted towards me with her arms and her mouth opened wide. It was the same woman who forced herself into my flat with the young child. She neither looked or spoke to me. She just drifted through me and out through the kitchen wall. I didn't move, think or speak till the next day. I have never known the morning light to be so comforting. Before I had the chance to understand what had happened the previous night, I was visited by two police detectives. They told me that they were investigating the murder of a young blonde haired woman, on Tuesday evening between the hours of 8.00 p.m. and midnight.