ghosts by tony k

GHOSTS

by Tony K

The blurb said, ''HMP Gloucester has a long and chilling history with many of the executed criminals remain buried in the grounds of the prison. 

Some of the most infamous serial killers have been incarcerated within the walls of Gloucester Prison. 

The prison formally closed on 31 March 2013 but the suffering and torment is deeply etched within the fabric of this foreboding location.'' What better way to serve a six hour sentence than inside a cold dark derelict prison.

It was nearly Halloween, so I thought it was time to get into the spirit of things. I was doing my porridge with a rogues gallery of family and friends who had signed up for an organised ghost hunt. 

 We joined a 60 strong group of wanna-be ghost hunters who paid to be here. A show of hands said some were seasoned paranormal veterans, whilst others like myself were first timers. 

Old fashioned ouija boards and table tipping were the instructed methods of communication given to our digital-age group. I wondered if the dearly departed disliked modern technology, or was it simply more cost effective to use 1800's style spirit boards?

There was no internal lighting. Visibility was determined by torch light. Photos were limited by camera flash. Despite excited anticipation, the ouija board session in the Segregation Block proved mute for our group. 

I wondered if the former inmates were on lockdown, or simply wished to remain segregated in the afterlife? The spirits seemed more industrious with animated table tipping experiences. 

I didn't understand what was happening or how it happened, but I did wonder why spirits would perform the pointless task of moving a wooden table around? But as I said, I was new to the ghost hunting game and didn't know the ropes.

My buddy Jason and I wandered off. We wanted solitary confinement in separate cells on a silent balcony where no one went. I shone the torch into my chosen cell. Peeling paint fell from the musty walls. 

The bleak decor consisted of an open-plan stainless steel toilet and a wall mounted table with the remains of a peeling paper chess board. The bleached metal skeleton frame of a bunk bed dominated the small space. Shutting the cell door I lay quietly on the bottom bunk. 

I experienced no unexplained sounds or spooky whispers. There was only the wind echoing through open vents and empty pipes. I switched the camera on and started to shoot blindly into the darkness. I momentarily saw my first ghost caught by the intrusive camera flash. 

The ghosts I found took the form of hidden biro and felt-tip graffiti messages which had been scribbled on the metal bunk above me. No one else could have seen this except the inmates who looked up from this very bunk some years before.

 I checked under other bunks in other bleak cells and found more hidden messages which had been left behind when the prison was abandoned. Elsewhere, other names, initials and dates, had been carefully carved into the rusty red brickwork of the Medical Wing which had once been a harsh Victorian Debtors Prison. 

Long forgotten initials and dates spanned the years between the 1800s-2000s. Why had 'RL' carved his initials there in 1967, and why was May 28th 1859 significant to 'AG'. 

 What was their story I wondered? It was a memorial of ghostly memories engraved and ingrained into the wall of the prison, perhaps marking sadness, tragedy or badness, but then who are we to judge?

 

I think there are still ghosts there... but for me I guess it was just about how we see them. 

Tony K