Please note: Chillingham castle is an actual ‘said to be haunted’ castle in the county of Northumbria, England

Please note:  Chillingham castle is an actual ‘said to be haunted’ castle in the county of Northumbria, England.  I don’t own it either, nor would I go there for love or money!

 

The Scariest Place On Earth?

 

 

 

Chapter Two:  The Adventure Begins.

 

 

 

“Where did you park your broomstick?”  Raphael leaned against the bus and stared at the husk of a woman before him.  The others were too shocked by her silent and soundless appearance to notice Raphael’s words.  A smothering silence descended on the group, robbing every one of their ability to speak.  A stout bleakly dressed man started to walk over the murky grounds towards the small gathering; mist swirled around his feet with every step taken.  The mask of confusion dropped from his face as soon as he drew near, he broke out into a rather haphazard jog in an endeavour to close the gap between them.  “Welcome to Chillingham castle.  I trust you had a pleasant journey.”  He rushed out interjected with raspy breaths.  The man seized Leo’s hand and shook it vigorously. “My name is Derry Felsen and I am your guide to the horrors and dismay of this 12th century castle.”  Leo had to prise his hand away from Mr Felsen’s death grip if he had any hope of using it again.  Mr Felsen stepped back and soaked in the spectacle of his extraordinary guests.  “Ah, I see you have met our dear old Maggie.”  Mr Felsen gesticulated towards the elderly lady, who had hardly moved since her manifestation.  The raven destroyed the stillness with a hearty vocalization; with a fluster of wings and feathers it captured the stagnant night air and evaporated into the purpling distance. 

 

Seemingly undisturbed by the raven’s sudden departure Mr Felsen carried on.  “Miss Lydon is our resident medium, she has worked tirelessly with the spirits of this old castle.”

“Medium?  You mean like a physic?”  It was now Michaelangelo’s turn to have his hand shaken to the point of numbness.  Raphael identified his disbelief to everyone by making a sound that mocked the old woman to her core.

“We have a sceptic in our midst’s.”  Miss Lydon pulled at her rumpled clothes, straightening them as best she could against the wind, which had now escalated to a chilling bluster.  “By the time the hours of darkness have elapsed, you will believe!”  A cackle bubbled in her throat as she thrust a long pale, crooked finger at Raphael.  A strange feeling enveloped him, not fear but something much more compelling.  Mr Felsen was now giving Donatello the over zealous welcome he had inflicted on his brothers.  “So is there any evidence that the castle is indeed, haunted?”  Donatello juttered out as the jolts began to shake his body. 

“Many people have tried to gather evidence, but I am afraid our spirits are a little camera shy.”  Mr Felsen released Donatello’s hand and stood once more absorbing the four victims before him.  “Shall we begin?”

 

The siblings gave each other a look of uncertainty, before following Mr Felsen and Miss Lydon down the mist shrouded path to the castle’s formidable gates. 

 

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