Pink Poogle Toy Forum

When I was a young lad, maybe 12 or 13, a favourite passtime of my friends and mine was camping. Not the Disney™ version where you and the family find a flowery meadow full of strangely tame rabbits in which to pitch your tent, and then frollick between the daisies chasing butterflies.

Nothing like that infact. Our Camping involved us pitching my Mate Chris' tent on any available patch of grass large enough in our village which we wouldnt be instantly evicted from. Parks, Graveyards, our lawns, anything! It wasnt beautiful surroundings we were after. Like any young tearaways, we just wanted to be away from our parents and free to roam our small country village in the wee-hours of the night, feeling dead tough and grown up during the process.

Note : Jim, and by extension PPT, do not in any way condone or encourage children ( or adults for that matter ) to roam the streets at night.

It was on one balmy Summers night that we pitched our tent on some grass out the back of my house. We had all the necessities- Biscuits, Fizzy Pop, Sweets, Torches, Matches ( building fires was a BIG part of the fun of camping out. I dont condone burning things either, so dont go torching your school and telling them the funny english man in the computer made you do it! ), toilet paper ( you never know), and more sweets.

Picture the scene if you will: Four young lads mooching around a village at 4am full of sugar. Yes it was fun. Now go read the first note again.

One of my mates ( cant remember which, now ), had the bright idea of going up to the Primary School we used to attend. Now this is a pretty creepy place in the day time- huge old Victorian buildings- so it would be even scarier at night. This of course meant it was a brilliant idea!

Now, the driveway to the school is a totally enclosed road of about 100 meters with 10 foot high brick walls on either side. As you finally reach the school, you are greeted with the main hall to your front, the kitchens to your left, and the Infants section to your right. We decided to walk to the left and around, hoping to circle the complex and arrive back at the drive new manly men grrr much beating of chests style'o'fing.

We never got that far.

As we turned the corner of the kitchens to circle the small walled-off section where the bins are stored, we were all frozen in our tracks by something on the wall.

To this day I cant describe it without feeling Im leaving something out. Imagine if you will the sort of vision movie makers try and create when they want to show an opening or portal into another dimension. A sort of swirling mass of smoke and white light with barely discernible shapes in it. Im not saying this is what it felt like, just what it looked like. There was also what looked to be a woman shrouded in the mist, and we later all agreed on this, but I think the power of suggestion may have played a part here.

So we legged it. As you do.

I mean, come on. Scared the pants of off us. We ran all the way back around and to the top of the drive before we stopped and started gibbering to each other like frightened old women. Then we pulled ourselves together and resigned to return to see if our eyes were just playing tricks on us. But first ( in true Bram Stoker tradition ), we fashioned crude torches from sticks and old ice-pole wrappers and crisp packets we found on the floor, and lit with the matches.

And off we went.

Ohhhh so much slower than before.

Nobody really wanting to be in front.

Torches held aloft, with those small firey drips falling that you always seem to get when you burn plastic.

We reached the end of the drive and we turned left. We crept toward the bin storage, almost hugging the opposite wall in an effort to put as much space between us and whatevertheheckitwas. And...

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..IT WAS STILL THERE!!!!

Yet again, we freaked. Ran like little Mummies boys back up the drive. This time, we didnt even stop there! We actually ran across the village green and into the graveyard of the Church. I think somebody mumbled something about Holy Ground ( Mr Stoker must be so proud by now ). At this juncture we decided to arm ourselves more formidably. It just so happened that at the time renovations were being performed on the cobbled car park outside the Church. We spotted some pegs that the builders had obviously been using as guide lines for the work, and snatched them up. Each peg was about a foot long, made of wood, and sharpened at once end.

Any second now Bram's family are going to send me an summons to appear in court on the grounds of plagiarism.

Anyway, newly tooled up, we yet again decided that we just had to see this thing one more time. We retraced our steps ( even more slowly this time ) untill we found ourselves infront of the kitches. As one animal we lept around the corner brandishing our now near-useless torches and pointy sticks to behold...




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down a bit more...








...last one I promise..












..IT WAS GONE!!!

Yup. Like it had never even been there. To our credit, we had a look around to see if anything could have fooled us- some security light from a neighbouring garden playing on the wall or something- but could find no earthly explanation. We returned to our tent and spent a fitfull night waiting for the sun to come up and our parents to unlock the doors.

And thats my story. I still dont know what it was, but the explanation "Ghost" is as good as any. This building is a couple of hundred years old, and legend tells that it isnt the first to stand on that spot. Local archaeologists tell us that there have been dwellings on the site of my village for over 7000 years, so if Ghosts are real, I think the chances for something so awful to have happened that the common belief of this sort of thing keeping a spirit in our world is a very real possibility.

If you actually read this far, I applaude you. Its a long story, but I cut out as little as possible so as not to discredit it. You may scoff and harrumph and cry "Kids with bellies full of sugar. No wonder they saw thing!", but for 4 boys to all have the same hallucination stretches anything of the sort a little thin to my mind.

Heres a repost of something that happened to me when I was a kid:

I do. I also know a ghost. Well, we moved away from that place but... Her name was Kimberly Johnson. She lived in our house and in the woods behind our house.