ghost in the woods
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The Day I Was Mistaken For a Ghost

Have you ever been mistaken for a ghost? I have. As you may know, Englandhome to many ghosts. There seems to be one everywhere you look. There are some places that have so many ghosts that you can hardly move for them.

A few years ago I lived close to a wood that is said to be haunted. Monks and two sisters haunt this area. It is also home to fairies and a variety of other supernatural beings.  Here you will find hidden treasure if you are lucky and hear the silver bell that sounded long ago. It is a place of magic and mystery.

 

ghost in the woods

I like walking and enjoy walking in these woods. They are a safe place to be. Much safer than the road which has no pavement or grass verge to walk on. The roads are full of blind bends and fast flowing traffic. It is a scary place to walk. I can drive but feel no need to own a car.

The choice between them is easy, at least for someone like me. Walking down the road can take twenty miniatures and going through the woods take longer. The happiness and joy that natures holds is well worth the extra time. I enjoy seeing how nature changes season to season.

In the summer many people visit the area.  One day I walked towards the stream.  A woman and her young daughter were looking into the stream on the opposite side. The stream fascinated them. At least it entranced the mother who eyes were focused upon the water.  The child looked around more.

 

I am the sort of person that walks quietly.  I do not mean to, it just comes natural. That day I wore a white dress. All of this goes some way to explain what happened.

I neared the bridge. The woman became aware of me. She looked towards me. She screamed. Her scream was loud and fearful. I froze to the spot. What do you do when someone screams at you? Her daughter did not know why her mother was screaming. She stood there looking puzzled.

When the woman stopped screaming she said

‘Oh sorry I thought you were a ghost.’

It is one of the those moments when my brain was still trying to catch up with what had happened.

‘It’s fine,’ I said, ‘it happens all the time’ and with that I went on my way.

 

 

 

 

 

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barn owl
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Barn Owl in The Tree

I have always had a love of owls, but I have a special connection to barn owls. As a child I lived in a house which was opposite fields. On the edge of the field, directly opposite our house was a tree. I always remember it being an old tree. The tree had a hollow in it and in this hollow a barn owl lived. Or at least he spent hours sitting there.

barn owl

At night I would spend hours watching him. Sometimes he would sit there, and then he would fly off over the fields hunting. He was beautiful to watch. So graceful and silent. Only occasionally did he ever screech.

I loved watching him. Sat on the windowsill I would just watch quietly in the dark.  Owls have good  eyesight so I am sure he knew I was there.  Sometimes I would talk to him. I would tell him about my life. He was like my living journal. I was and still am sure he listened to me.

People may think I am being daft, but I known barn owls have amazing sight and hearing. So he must have at least been aware I was there.

He wasn’t just an owl to me, he was a friend. I cared about him. I loved owls but, he was my special barn owl.

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witches sailing in eggshells
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Witches Sailing in Eggshells – English Folklore

Witches sailing in eggshells? Surely that would never happen. When I was a child I always smashed any eggshells to stop the witches stealing them and sailing away in them. I am not sure who told me this folklore. I thought it was my mother, but she claims never to have heard it before.

Did I really believe that it? Did witches would break into my house? Then jump in the bin and steal the eggshells in order to go sailing? Maybe I did believe maybe I didn’t – but sometimes things are not worth the risk, especially when you are a child.

witches sailing in eggshells

Eggshells are boat shapes. If they had some sort of paddle available to them I could imagine that controlling the shells along the currants of the wind over the land or sea.

I imagined these witches were very small, or that maybe they were shapeshifters who could make themselves appear small.

Many paintings suggest the witches sailed over the sea. As I lived close to the coast this may be why I knew this folklore. However, I always believed that the witches could sail through the air on the wind in a similar way to a bird. Maybe that was because I lived surrounded by fields, and so that seemed to be more logical to me.

It is not one of those things that you can ask someone.  These witches in these tales are seemed evil and best to stay clear off.

This may also explain why sometimes I have found eggshells in the middle of nowhere.  How else do they end up in the middle of fields?

Today I still break eggshells, although maybe more out of habit.  Then again you never know what may happen. Do you break yours or know any similar folklore. I’d love to know about it

 

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