A Bump in the Night

Awhile ago, I was fortunate enough to be able to go to Port Arthur, Tasmania, on a holiday. I had been down to Tasmania to visit my grandmother and grandfather, and some other cousins and relatives. I was very much looking forward to attending the nightly "ghost tour" at Port Arthur, as from a young age I had been fascinated by the paranormal.

I also felt a strange connection with the place, as my Aunt had died in the massacre that occurred there not so long ago.

We went all through the buildings, and our guide told us some very spooky and unusual stories which made me feel like I was being watched. Sometimes that happens, you know, when you hear a particularly scary tale that makes you think it's real. Of course, I tried to believe that the stories the guide told weren't true, but in my heart I had to believe they were. My suspicions were to be confirmed.

I was standing next to my dad, and we came up to the Parsonage. The guide told us of a "Lady in Blue" and how she had died in childbirth, and was always sad, and wanted to play with children. At the time, I was a child myself, around twelve or thirteen. I was standing near the window, a position I didn't particularly want to be in. Throughout the whole tour, I had been standing in the midst of everyone, not wanting to be right up front or lagging behind, because I was afraid of what I might experience there. It was very dark inside the house, which was locked up for the night. I remembered it was my least favourite house, because of the feeling I got whenever I was around it. I peered closer to the window, trying to see inside. It was too dark. All I could see was a lamplight from the other side of the house, shining through another window. I saw movement, just slightly, over at that other window, and so I pressed my face against the glass in an effort to see what it was. My dad was close behind me, so I wasn't too afraid. Suddenly, the glass started to shake violently, as if someone was pounding the glass from the inside with their fists. A faded white shape could distinctly be seen on the other side of the glass, and with a screech of fright, I jumped back. My dad (being mean as he was) pushed me back towards the window, laughing as if nothing was wrong. He told me later, he suspected it was a guide, trying to trick me. But I know otherwise. No-one but myself and my brother saw the white shape, and knew that it wasn't a guide, but something else.

Shaken, I followed the rest of the group, this time standing right in the middle. We came to the asylum, and we went inside the terror-stricken building. The guide was talking to us again, and I realized that I was at the back of the group again. I heard a noise, like chains scraping against the ground. I slowly turned around, dreading what I would see there. There was nothing.

"Listen to that, can anyone hear it?" I asked in my soft voice. I echoed because of the stones around us, and so I was heard. Everyone started to murmur amongst themselves, frightened and unsure. "Sssh!" said our guide, "let's all be quiet" Everyone was. Sure enough, we heard the chains coming steadily closer. It went on for about a minute, and then suddenly stopped.

That night I found it hard to sleep, because I was recollecting what had happened at Port Arthur. One thing is certain, although I was terrified at the time, I long to return there, and one day I will.