This section is for you, have any stories or experiences you wish to contribute? send them to us and we'll do our best to post them for others to see, if you have any images even better. We look forward to hearing from you Thanks, SPRG.
This first report was given to us by a guest at one of our recent investigations, thanks Neal. It's from a Mrs Judy Maiden on a recent visit to The Heights of Abraham Caverns and Mines, near Derbyshire, photos from this are featured in our media section.
Great Masson Cavern
The Heights of Abraham
Matlock Bath
Derbyshire
Whilst holidaying in Derbyshire earlier this year we had the opportunity to
visit The Heights of Abraham, a popular tourist attraction with access via a
cable car, at Matlock Bath.
This attraction is at the top of Masson Hill that is riddled with mineshafts
where Lead ore was mined for over 300 years. As lead deposits became harder to
find, cheaper lead was imported in the 19th century and the miners found it more
lucrative to guide tourists underground. Two of these mines remain open at the
Heights of Abraham and guided tours are offered daily.
During our visit we opted to go down The Great Masson Cavern that was first
opened to the public in 1844 and lit by electricity in 1986.
When we entered the cavern we were informed that photography was allowed and,
being keen photographers, both my daughter and myself got our cameras out and
started taking photos. We both have digital cameras and each of us takes
hundreds of photographs whilst on holiday, however, we were not prepared for the
images on our photos when we downloaded them later that day.
When taking our first photographs down the mine Louise was standing slightly
ahead of me to my right side and as she took her photograph, I focused in and
took a photograph of the same view in the main chamber. When I looked at the
screen to check the image the photo appeared to be blurred, so I took another
photo hoping for a better second picture. Both Louise and myself continued to
take photographs whilst in the cavern and I thought nothing more about my
blurred first picture until we sat down for lunch and I decided to check out
what I had taken. At that point I realised that the picture was not blurred as I
had first thought but contained a mist that had definitely not been in the
cavern at the time of taking the photograph.
My second photograph also contained a mist although there seemed to be no
explanation to this at all: the cavern was damp so it could not be dust, there
was no smoke otherwise we would have all been evacuated and it was cold so could
not have been steam.
It was only when we downloaded our photographs that evening that we realised
there were orbs in my daughter’s photographs as well. Also, our photographs were
taken seconds apart so if there was any explanation for the mists then they
should have appeared in both photographs.
At no time was anything visible to the naked eye and these photographs have got
us all puzzled. We would all be grateful for any explanations as to the strange
anomalies on our pictures as we can find no explanation other than the fact that
we may have captured the ghost of one of the many miners who lost their life in
the mine.
Mrs Judy Maiden
Thank you to Judy Maiden and Neil for this submission, SPRG.
The following text is from a local writer who with his permission has allowed us to use a couple of his poems, the writers name is Pablo, you can find more of his work at Pablo's Poems & Short Stories
I am, am I?
I’m looking over your shoulder, I’m standing beside you.
I move your favourite things. Your toys, and your trinkets are seldom safe.
I whisper words, little messages, and tunes.
See the curtains flutter as I pass. Read a message I leave on the glass.
I pace the stairway, wander the hall, stare out the misted window.
I am an Orb. I am a shadow. I am a knock, a tick of a clock.
Sometimes I may be a breeze, a sneeze, I can make you freeze.
I may sleep beside you or stand close watching as you dream.
Don’t be scared nor shiver when I walk right through you.
What need have you for a prayer or priest? I cannot hurt, just make you cold.
I’m just that spooky feeling, a story someone told.
I am the scent of flowers, tobacco, perfume or age.
I’m two hundred years, perhaps a hundred more.
I float high up in your room. I pass through your wall or door locked shut.
Be wary of the mirror, of the dusty, musty, boarded up room.
You may hear my laugh, a footfall, a creaking board.
Keep the lights low when you’re up late. Stare into the gloom in the corner at night.
If you want me to leave. Say a prayer, sprinkle salt, waft the sage.
Say goodbye ghost. Go to the light.
A Midnight Journey
Bochum Manor, in the
Stealthily creeping its ancient grounds.
Spirit lights leap from an ancient rooftop,
Listening, waiting for ghostly sounds.
High on Roughtor a Cornish mountain,
Mathew Weekes stalks his girl to murder,
Dymond blood stains Mathew’s knife.
A midnight journey, a late night drive.
Searching for a sign of a life forlorn.
One grave of Kitty Jay, by the roadside,
New flowers placed before the dawn.
.
After midnight, the witching hour.
In silence, staring and quietly fearful.
By the hanging tree, a murderous spot,
A lonely moan, a sound so tearful.
Berry Pomeroy in ancient
Two old castles, one inside it’s other.
A white lady, a dueling Knight,
The screams of a dying lover.
Fast and furious, a dreadful drive,
A sudden vision, a crossroads a gallows,
Creeping flesh and bones now gone,
To re-appear once more on All Hallows
Who knows why, when, how or who,
A place of prayer, an altar of blood,
Circles and pillars to puzzle you.
At Bramber, battles and feuds forgot,
A crying mother with starving brood,
Weary now of forever begging,
Ragged clothes a search for food.
A wayside
To enter The Fox, a task not easy,
An invisible hand, unseen presence,
A cold breath, an icy blow, feeling queasy.
A lonely church, a fearsome forest,
Untended graves, flowers in decay,
No-one visits except the wandering spirits,
Of the evil place they call Doomsday.
Searching for proof of life after death,
In the smallest hours of the night,
Be careful, be wary of the obstinate ghost,
That refuses to go to the light.
Pablo's work is on loan to us on a personal basis, all of Pablo's work is protected by Copyright and may under no circumstances be reproduced in anyway whatsoever without prior permission from Pablo, we at S.P.R.G would like to thank Pablo for his contribution to the site and as I have said before by clicking on the link above you can find more of his work, which are poems and short stories based on the supernatural.
