I suggested to this fella here that his One a Day post yesterday should be about things that scared him as a child, and his resultant ghost story reminded me of this one from my childhood, which I thought I’d share.
Grey Lady. There’s always a Grey Lady.
Friend of mine lived in a huge, but run down, manor house in the middle of nowhere, and often over the summer I’d hang out there, messing about in the boat on his pond, climbing trees, and playing Guild of Thieves on his Amstrad wordprocessor. Sometimes I’d stay over, and it was more than a bit creepy.
The house was easily 150 years old. Some of the rooms, including one off my friend’s bedroom, were boarded up, mainly because they didn’t have safe flooring or something. That one in particular was because of the Grey Lady, who died there over a hundred years prior.
The story went that she was married to the man of the manor, who was the love of her life. One evening, he hadn’t come in from the estate, and she went out with a candle to search for him, eventually discovering him drowned in the pond. Depending on the version of the story, she then either killed herself in her bedroom, or simply pined away after him, never leaving her bed.
Supposedly, her ghost could be seen, on full moon nights, walking out of her room holding a candle, through my friend’s bedroom, down to the pond, and then back again. I’d never seen her, but my friend claimed he had many times.
