I did my entry earlier and thought that my ghost story from last year was still in previous entries but it has disappeared so for those of you who have not read it I have downloaded the copy for you as requested. Enjoy.............
A Ghost Story for Halloweeen
In Scotland, among hill walkers there is a story of ‘The Old Man of the Mountains’. Many people hear him but none see him. Today for Halloween I am going to tell you a true story of ‘The Old Man of the Mountains.’
This story begins many years ago a young couple were on a weekend camping trip to Glen Lyon with the girls parents. They were very keen walkers and usually did this together but on this particular day the guy went to the mountain on his own. He was a very brisk walker and used to walk all his companions off their feet, maybe that is why he was on his own that day.
He set off at his usual pace to climb the mountain nearest to the camp site, it was a lovely summer day with sunshine and he made good progress up the mountain, we are not talking Ben Nevis heights here, but around the 3000ft. mark, just a stroll in the park for this guy. Up he went enjoying the beautiful scenery all the way. On reaching the top he had a few minutes rest in the afternoon sunshine. He then set off down the mountain again but as he walked a bank of fog rolled in and it turned cold. As he continued he thought he heard someone behind him so he turned to look but there was nobody there. On he went again but he could still hear the footsteps behind him. For the next five minuets he kept turning round as he kept hearing the footsteps behind them. This really started to get to the guy and he started to get the feeling of a presence as well. He kept turning round but could not see anyone there. He started to walk quicker and quicker. Now this guy was a seasoned hill walker, climbed many mountains and was not easily fazed but this was really getting to him. At last the fog was behind him and the sun was out again so he thought all would be well. The footsteps were still there and seemed even closer. He was close to the foot of the mountain now but the presence and the footsteps were still there. At last he crossed the bridge over the River Lyon to the side the campsite and the road were on and he could see the people but the footsteps were still there. He kept on walking quickly towards the tents. He then saw his girlfriend walk out to meet him and as suddenly as the footsteps had started they stopped and the presence was gone.
I don’t know if you have realised it or not but the guy in this story is my Stuart and it was me that walked out to meet him and he stands by this story to this day and it must have happened 45years ago. Talking about it today I could see that it still gives him he shivers even after all these years.