Greetings! This is a new section of the blog where I'll be telling short stories that either happened to me, or to somebody I know. The stories you will read here are true. The first set of stories are happened in one pub. Without further ado, I give you...
Part One: The Room
The Royal Oak once stood in the countryside of South Yorkshire. Built in the 1700s, it was a classic Georgian design, located a few hundred yards from the road on a long wide driveway that doubled as a carpark. It had a farm on one side, and ‘nowt but fields’ in all other directions. The roads that led to the grand old place snaked through the surrounding countryside and a favourite trick of my dad’s was to park the car en route to the pub on moonless nights and turn off the lights. That darkness was something I’ll remember for a long time.
At the time of the story I’m about to tell you, my dad was living at the pub. It was before I was born, but I remember his bedroom now, because it was the one I slept in whenever I stayed over at the pub as a kid. The bedroom was almost a perfect square, bar one recess for a built-in wardrobe. I was glad of the simple design because it meant one thing: no shadowy corners for the bogeyman to hide in. In a building that old where spooky events were a regular occurrence that can be pretty important to a kid.
Because of the remote location, security was paramount, so the old building was equipped with sliding chain locks on all of the windows, even those on the first floor accessible only by ladder. The chains were comforting, but while the windows locked, the internal doors did not. So when, after saying goodnight to his colleagues on the night of the story, my father trudged upstairs to bed and the door wouldn’t open, it was a problem.
What he was about to discover is something that, to this day, defies a logical explanation.
He tried the handle, and it moved. But the door did not. It didn’t rattle, it didn’t budge. It was stuck fast. After a few minutes of trying, he gave up the ghost (*pun klaxon!*) and went back downstairs.
Anyone who has worked in the industry will tell you, the best part of the working day is when the shift has finished, the punters gone, and the lights are out. Going to bed straight after a busy shift is impossible, so, as the dust settles on the aftermath, it’s the turn of those who worked their backsides off to have a drink and share stories about the shift, maybe tell stories about weird customers or funny events. A few extra drinks flow and the banter flies. It’s the closest you’ll get to a campfire without having a campfire.
So when my baffled dad stumbled into this scene and relayed his story, the first instinct was to scoff. After dragging two of the guys upstairs and they managed to force the door open, their laughter quickly subsided.
After peering through the small crack they’d managed to make they made a shocking discovery. The bed had been pushed against the far side of the door. After more work fighting against the heavy furniture on the thick carpet, they opened the door wide enough for somebody to squeeze through. A quick inspection revealed that there was nobody in the room and the windows were locked from the inside.
A friend of mine suggested that this bizarre event could have been the result of an earthquake. Earthquakes in England are extremely rare. Is it possible that there could have been a tremor so strong to move furniture that nobody remembers? A tremor that only affects a single bed in one room, and not smaller, lighter objects in other rooms? I think not. One strong enough to shift heavy furniture on a thick carpet would certainly have been noticed, if not at the time, then there would have been evidence after the fact. I’ve told this story to many people, and I’m yet to hear an explanation more plausible than the incredible story itself.
Have you experienced anything similar? Do you have a better explanation then the one above? Let me know in the comments below. I’d like this to be a serious discussion, so no jokes, memes, etc. And please be respectful of others!
I'll see you on Friday for Part Two: The Highwayman.
In this blog I'll be bringing to you short tales of things that go bump in the night, true stories of weird and unexplained events, and the real-life news of all things odd and macabre, and entertain you along the way.