Spine tingling tales

The Story of 50 Berkeley Square, London

Our story starts on Christmas Eve 1887, in the fashionable West End of London, a time when Jack the Ripper was still terrorising the women who walked the streets.
A policeman was walking his usual beat, when he decided to huddle in to doorway to avoid the thick fog.

He became aware of 2 sailors who had been celebrating in fine style.
The policeman, wanting no trouble told the sailors “to get along".
Staggering away singing, they realised there was no way they were going to make it back to their ship, and so decided to search for somewhere to spend the night.
Seeing an empty house with a "to let" notice, and a half open window, they decided to make use of it for the evening.
Once settled, they lit a fire and settled down for the night.

They had not long been asleep when they were awoken by the sound of heavy footsteps and the creaking of unoiled hinges.
Seeing a white, shapeless beast with long talons, Robert Martin, one of the sailors ran from the house screaming, he hoped to find the policeman they had spoken with earlier.
The other sailor was too terrified to move, so terrified infact that he was unable to move.

Mad with fear and so relieved to see the policeman he managed to string enough words together to tell the dreadful tale of Number 50 Berkeley Square.
Together they ran back to the house, just in time to hear a blood curdling scream and see smashing of glass and the sailor falling to his death, impaling himself on the railings below.
The dead man's eyes were wide and staring.
Did he jump or was he thrown to his death?
Whatever it was had frightened the man to death.

Further investigation, showed that the house was feared by many local people. Mr. Dupre, The first owner of the house was forced to keep an insane member of the family locked in his room. It was said that servants in the house were so terrified of the man, that he was fed through a hole in the door.
After the death of the family member, a young servant was given the room as sleeping quarters. Soon after they had settled for the evening the house was awoken by dreadful screaming.

On reaching her room they discovered her huddled in the corner, a nervous wreck. What ever it what who had frightened her so had left her mad with terror and the poor girl never recovered.
The house remained empty for some time until it was bought by Mr. Benson who believed firmly in the presence of the evil spirit and would never venture into the room.

A friend of his Sir Robert Warboys, egged on by his friends decided to prove everyone wrong by spending an evening in the room. After much persuasion the owner agreed, but only on the condition that this friend was armed and had a bell which he could use to summon help.
Laying down on his bed for the night, pistol in one hand and bell in the other. He settled down for the night. Mr. Benson however was unsettled. He sat on the edge of his chair, waiting, listening for the slightest sound.

Not long after the stroke of 12, he heard the sound of a ringing bell and a gun shot. He ran up the stairs taking them 2 at a time. Inside the room he discovered his friend lying across the bed. His face white and stiff with fear. But on closer examination, Sir Robert showed no sign of being shot, infact there were no wounds at all.
Even though 2 poor souls had already died in the room it did not seem to bother Lord Lyttleton, who bravely (or stupidly) decided to spend an evening in the room.

He sat up in bed, loaded his gun with silver pennies and awaited the return of the Phantom. Lord Lyttleton at least managed to survive the night, but not before he had fired his gun. What ever it was had flew at him, and then dropped like a stone and then vanished.
Since that time, several others have claimed to have seen other ghosts at no' 50 Berkeley Square.
A child in Scottish dress, a young girl screaming clinging to the window sill, are amongst them. There have also been reports of cries, footsteps, slamming windows and ringing bells.

Now, still standing, No' 50 Berkeley square is a respectable office and the owners report nothing abnormal.
Perhaps its ghosts and Phantoms have finally been laid to rest.

*~ Back to the top ~*

The Story of Lily Lumley, Lumley Castle, Chester-le-Street

Lumley Castle was built by Sir Ralph Lumley in the late 14th Century.
He obtained permission from the bishop in 1389 and from the king (Richard II, a friend of Lumley) in 1392 to convert the manor house built by his father into a castle.
The Lily of Lumley was the first wife of the builder of the castle, Sir Ralph, later Lord Lumley.

Like her husband she was an ardent follower of Wycliffe, the church reformer.
One Winters evening, While her husband was away, two priests, entered the castle and tried to persuade her to return back to the Catholic Fold.
However, she was unsympathetic, so to save her soul the priests lured her into a bedroom and killed her.

They moved her body down the mural staircase to the basement of the castle and threw her body into a well.
A few days later, an ill woman was taken from Lumley village, to a near by convent where she was brainwashed to state that she was Lilly of Lumley.
When the young woman died the priests informed Lord Lumley, that his wife was found wondering the village in a state of fever and illness, and was given haven at the convent, where she died.

Her husband seeing no reason to disbelieve the story accepted it.

Known walks of Llly Lumley are the staircase to the basement.
She has also been seen in bedrooms of the castle, also dressed in white.
There have been stories of phantom footsteps, both in the rooms of the castle and also on the stairs, and also strange cries and sobbing.

In the grounds of the castle, and in the surrounding area (especially the woods and golf course), She can be seen, dressed in a white bloodstained dress.
It is said that she has terrified many a golfer and motorist by appearing in front of them, and then when approached or (in the case of the motorist hit by the car), disappears.

Today Lilly of Lumley can still be seen wondering her castle and grounds.

The castle is now a 5 star hotel, a haven for ghost hunters looking for a glimpse of Lily Lumley.

*~ Back to the top ~*

The Drummer of Hurstmonceaux Castle, Sussex

A giant, said to be over nine feet all, who died at the battle of Agincourt, killed by French knights, is said to be our phantom Drummer of Hurstmonceaux Castle.

He returns to re-enact the victory drum roll for his master, Lord Dacre who built Hurstmonceaux Castle.
Over many centuries many people have claimed to heard the phantom drumming.
And many explanations have been given to count for it.

One story states that the phantom drummer was a real drummer used to scare people away while smugglers hid contraband in the castle vaults.
However this doesn't explain why the drummer was heard centuries before and after that.
One explanation for the phantom drummer, concerns the elderly Lord Dacre, who resigned to spend his days devoted to religion.
Allowing the world to think him dead, he kept himself in a room and lived on only bread and water.

However to keep admirers away from him beautiful young "widow", he dressed in phosphorescent paint and drummed his way along the battlements.
His young wife so annoyed by this, crept to his room late at night and locked him in, leaving him to starve to death.
As he was already "dead" there would be no problem with people enquiring as to his whereabouts.

However this did nothing to stop the ghostly drumming which now continues to this day.

So who is ourr ghostly drummer:
The giant who plays his drums for his master? Or the master himself ?

*~ Back to the top ~*