My name is Alwen and I'm a ghost hunter. At least I was. I was the best in the business and I had my own show. Prime time twice a week with the best ratings for a paranormal show, EVER.My film crew
were all professionals who'd worked on blockbuster films and documentaries and my fan base equalled that of a rock star. I'm not bragging or anything but I was MEGA.
Until one night they abandoned me. They ran out screaming. I watched them leave as I stood rooted to the spot not knowing what was happening.
I remember warmth so I think maybe I peed myself.
My crew and I were on our second night vigil at the Manor house, a crumbling old relic in the heart of the Welsh Valleys. I suppose I should have some affinity with the place as I'm named after my
Welsh grandma but she was a hairdresser from Swansea who hated the countryside.
It was freezing there so we'd stayed in a hotel during the daytime to prepare, but when the night time came we wrapped up warmly and headed out.
The Old Manor was a bleak cavernous house that had once been a court, a school and a millionaires weekend pad. Now it bore no resemblance to the Edwardian splendour it had once portrayed in
the history books and it was tragic. To let old places of historical interest go to rack and ruin really annoyed me and this is why I chose this wonderful house.
There were seven of us. Two camera crew, I won't say camera men as that's sexist and we once had a lovely camera lady when we did that pub in York. A make up girl called Karen who screamed the
house down most times and it was funny so we left it in. A psychic called Ed who regularly possessed himself and two sound engineers. We did have a paranormal investigator but he went grey
overnight at one location, I won't say where it was but we never went back.
We were a good team, the cable network picked us up an we ran with it, we were on air for six years and did some marvellous seances.
And now I'm alone. Not quite, obviously. The manor house has had some restoration work done and now it's a small family run hotel. The couple who run it are a bit strange, ie: they haven't a clue,
it's like Fawlty Towers most days, apparently someone saw a ghost on the stairs and now a new crew are on their way, I wonder who the star billing is these days?.
She bowled through the front door like she owned the place. A stuck up botoxed ex weather girl who'd climbed up many a producers leg to get this gig. I hated her on sight, her crew were just as bad
as mine turned out to be. I wonder if they'll run screaming when the ectoplasm hits the fan?.
Angie Woodhouse stood in the huge hallway and took in a deep breath.
"This is where the figure was seen" she announced to the camera after two hours in make up and a power nap in the best room in the place.
Oh she's terrible, no direction, fake as a bottle of St.Tropez and a god awful delivery. I've never said I was a professional but I know I was better than this.
She has someone with her and I think I know who it is, he's a flamboyant medium called Peter Penville. Yes I know, appalling name. She thinks he's going to find a ghost for her but half the time he
can't even find himself. I wonder if he still has that flask of holy water he once threw at some witches we'd conjured up in Cornwall. It turned out it was vodka and the witches couldn't even be
bothered to talk to him.
I moved a vase the other day, not very far but I managed to almost tip it. I was wiped out and had to lie down for a while. Although I have no concept of time I still know what's going on, which is
more than I can say for that lot.
She's copying me. This is my format to the letter, I invented the slow turn and the jump back and she's just done it and she hasn't even seen a bloody ghost yet
. She's boring me to death if that's possible.
"I'm in the room where most of the sightings have taken place" she reports to the camera, what a lying cow I've never been in this room and I know all the spirits here.
"This is the room where Alwen Owens was literally scared to death, they found her body right there on the bed, are you here Alwen?"
The camera swivels around the room and the sound engineer sticks his fluffy stick towards the floor then the bed. I want to go now as something stirs in my memory from so long ago but as I turn I
hit a candlestick and it falls to the floor, this equals so much excitement I think I might wet myself again.
She's jumping up and down now.
"Did you get that, did you get that?" she yells as Peter hold out his arms
"Come to me Alwen, speak through me"
I want to scare them even more now, this is great.
"Whatever happens we have it on camera," she whispers as they move downstairs. I might as well follow after all I've go nowhere else to go, did I really die in this room?. She's lying about the bed
of course it was quite derelict when we were here, who or what scared me though? I don't think I want to know to be honest, if that lot want to do a seance then good luck to them, but I think I
will stick around and see what happens.
They've done the emf, they've done the heat sensors and the locked off cameras and now they're in the ballroom, ooh a ballroom. I look around impressed as I haven't been in here before.
The twins are giggling. The twins are Violet and Jessica, two of the most lovely girls you'd ever wish to meet, but we hide from their father most nights, he killed them after their mother fell
down the stairs and broke her neck, he went a bit mad.I think maybe he has something to do with my death but I don't really want to go there.
Angie must have done her homework as she mentions their mother and the staircase although to be honest the tale is printed on the pamphlet on the table in the foyer.
"This is where the lady of the manor was thrown down the stairs" she shouts.
No she wasn't, it was a worn carpet with a big hole that she got her heel caught in and she went rolling down the winding part cracking her head and neck as she flailed about, I see her
reliving it some nights and the twins get upset. Then dad arrives and we have to high tail it out of there.
Where's this light that I'm suppose to see and where's my grandad, he was my favourite so shouldn't he be beckoning me to go down the tunnel and end this farce?.
Her crew have so much good stuff. If we'd had this much I might have survived, although maybe I was meant to die, maybe it was meant to be like this.
I do feel at peace and I have no pain or worries, just that idiot with the crop who runs about smacking women. Angie's going to meet him later when they do the seance, hahaha.
"I have a lost soul."
Peter Penville is as dramatic as ever, we're all lost you fool, we wouldn't be haunting if we weren't would we.
The ouija board springs into life as the glass moves from letter to letter, It's him alright and he's got his sights set on that intern they've brought with them. She shifts in her seat as he runs
his hands over her arm.Oh how he likes to touch. Then he moves onto her legs and she jumps up nearly tipping the table over
.The girl runs out screaming but the others ignore her as they are in full 'look at me' mode. Lights pop and cameras die as he fills the room with such bad energy, I pull the girls tightly towards
me as their mother appears, he rages and rants and she makes her way over to him. Finally, a light. She takes him towards it and motions for the girls to follow, they leave me and I get the feeling
that this is going to be the format of my spectral life.
"Last night was quite hairy, and I promise that tonight will be just as exciting" she talks to the camera, her invisible audience of batteries and digitised thingummys that I will never understand.
I feel sorry for her now as there's only me left, I was wanting the twins to stay but their mother took them and only right she did. Why couldn't she leave the bully though? At least he'd have
given them something to sell, now it'll be buried late at night on a channel no one watches, and why do I care?.
The second seance is a disaster. They try and try but they can't conjure up anybody, dead or alive. I'll just have to bite the bullet and wade in there and try to scare at least the intern who's
come back with the promise of a ghost hunt of her own.
It all kicked off just after midnight. Daddy came back with a vengeance and possessed Peter Penville who grabbed poor Angie by the throat. The police have just left and now the newspapers are here,
I was an eyewitness but they won't ask me will they? And it was all caught on camera, WOW, and it turns out the intern has been given her own show on the BBC and she's off to the states.
She wears a scarf these days so no one can see the bruises where he throttled her.
There's a new crew coming this weekend so we'll have a bit of fun, we'll move a few candlesticks and sit in the rocking chair.
Poor Peter's still possessed by the mad dad, I hope he doesn't find his way back here although by then we'll be strong enough to turn over more than a few ornaments. Angie doesn't say much.
She grunts when she sees a news report about that bloody intern taking over the world. Although the other day she did manage a 'boo' when that member of staff who steals came into the kitchen .She
ran off screaming and it was so funny, but then we realised we'd drawn attention to ourselves and like I said this new crew is on it's way.
We promise to give value for money. We'll blow on your neck and prod you in the back, we'll even tip the table and speak through the ouija board.
But I beg you please, no pictures.
After all, we're not looking our best these days.
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