Back before Castle Huntly became a prison, it had a history all of its own – and a couple of its own ghosts, to boot. There are two ghosts alleged to still haunt Castle Huntly; the White Lady and that of a young boy. When researching the ghosts of Castle Huntly, it became apparent that there is some confusion between Castle Huntly and Huntly Castle (which is in Aberdeenshire), and, as such, the ghost stories of which White Lady belonged to which castle seems to get a little skewed.

We’re going to stick with the story of the young woman being a daughter of the Lyon family, the Earls of Kinghorne (which was later changed to Earl of Strathmore and Kinghorne). The title Earl of Kinghorne was actually created in 1606 for Patrick Lyon, and when Castle Huntly was acquired by the Earl in 1614, he had the name changed to Castle Lyon. It was not until the castle was sold in 1777 that the name was reverted back to Castle Huntly.

Whether the woman in the story was the first Earl of Kinghorne’s daughter or granddaughter, we do not know, but, from what we have read, it appears as though she may have had an inappropriate relationship with one of the castle’s manservants. It wasn’t all too uncommon for sexual relationships to form between social classes, as privacy was hard to come by, and servants were often put in sexually vulnerable positions by their masters or mistresses, as well as by lodgers, guests and each other. Remember there wasn’t a lot to do back then!

When they were found out, the pair were separated. Whether the manservant was imprisoned, tortured, murdered, or all three, we cannot say for sure, but it’s pretty clear that, in those times, he wasn’t just going to be sent on his way with his wages and his P45 in hand. Whoever he was, he very likely met a grisly end. The nameless Lyon daughter was locked in a chamber on the upper levels of the castle, and it was from the window of this room that she is said to have met her doom. Her body was found, broken and bleeding on the grounds directly under her bedroom window, with nothing that could be done to save her.

 

To add a twist to an already murky story, whilst some may say that she killed herself as a result of a broken heart or at being imprisoned in her own family home, others have whispered that she may not have taken her own life and may, in fact, have been pushed. There are a lot of facets to this story that don’t quite add up (which we tend to find with a lot of the older ghost stories), hence their origins as legends and not actual fact. What did happen to the manservant? And why can’t we name the Lyon daughter on who the tale is supposedly based? And the big question – did she fall, or was she pushed? We’ll just never know.

Moving away from the mysterious White Lady, the second ghost alleged to haunt Castle Huntly is that of a young boy, named the Paterson Ghost. He is believed to be the descendant of George Paterson – the man who purchased the castle from the Lyons in 1777 for £40,000, and also the man who gave Castle Huntly back its original name. Fast-forward 150 years or so, to when Colonel Adrian Paterson and his family occupied Castle Huntly.

Their only son, Richard, tragically died in a boating accident aboard the river Tay in 1939, and it is his ghost that is said to haunt the castle. He is said to be seen in the same room as the White Lady wearing a double-breasted sailing jacket. Interestingly, no-one seems to know what colour it is, which, given the “sightings”, you would think that someone would be able tell us at least if it was light or dark. Whilst the White Lady is alleged to haunt the grounds of the castle as well as the room, young Richard is said to appear only in the room once occupied by the fated daughter of Lyon.

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The legend, or fairy tale of Whuppity Stoorie reads a lot like a Scottish version of Rumplestiltskin. The story is said to have taken place in a wee place called Kittlerumpit – good luck finding an exact location on that place! Robert Chalmers writes of Whuppity Stoorie in his 1858 ‘Popular rhymes of Scotland’, regaling us with a tale of a bereft mother and a fairy with a wicked plot, whose name would eventually become her undoing. We’ll let you do the reading for yourself on this one…and if anyone can shed any light on the location of Kittlerumpit, please get in touch! Here’s the tale as Robert Chalmers told it, which we found at http://www.surlalunefairytales.com.

I SEE that you are fond of talks about fairies, children; and a story about a fairy and the goodwife of Kittlerumpit has just come into my mind; but I can’t very well tell you now whereabouts Kittlerumpit lies. I think it is somewhere in the Debatable Ground. Anyway, I shall not pretend to know more than I do, like everybody nowadays. I wish they would remember the ballad we used to sing long ago:

Mony ane sings the gerss, the gerss,
And mony ane sings the corn;
And mony ane clatters o’ bold Robin Hood,
Ne’er kent where he was born.

But howsoever about Kittlerumpit. The goodman was a rambling sort of body; and he went to a fair one day, and not only never came home again, but nevermore was heard of. Some said he ‘listed, and others that the tiresome press-gang snatched him up, though he was furnished with a wife and a child to boot. Alas! that wretched press-gang! They went about the country like roaring lions, seeking whom they might devour. Well do I remember how my eldest brother Sandy was all but smothered in the meal-chest, hiding from those rascals. After they were gone, we pulled him out from among the meal, puffing and crying, and as white as any corpse. My mother had to pick the meal out of his mouth with the shank of a horn spoon.

Ah well, when the goodman of Kittlerumpit was gone, the goodwife was left with small means. Little resources had she, and a baby boy at her breast. All said they were sorry for her; but nobody helped her — which is a common case, sirs. Howsoever, the goodwife had a sow, and that was her only consolation; for the sow was soon to farrow, and she hoped for a good litter.

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But we all know hope is fallacious. One day the woman goes to the sty to fill the sow’s trough; and what does she find but the sow lying on her back, grunting and groaning, and ready to give up the ghost.

I trow [trust, believe] this was a new pang to the goodwife’s heart; so she sat down on the knocking stone [a stone with a hollow in it for pounding grain, so as to separate the husks from the kernels], with her bairn [child] on her knee, and cried sorer than ever she did for the loss of her own goodman.

Now I premise that the cottage of Kittlerumpit was built on a brae [hillside], with a large fir wood behind it, of which you may hear more ere we go far on. So the goodwife, when she was wiping her eyes, chances to look down the brae; and what does she see but an old woman almost like a lady, coming slowly up the road. She was dressed in green, all but a short white apron and a black velvet hood, and a steeple-crowned beaver hat on her head. She had a long walking staff, as long as herself, in her hand — the sort of staff that old men and old women helped themselves with long ago. I see no such staffs now, sirs.

Ah well, when the goodwife saw the green gentlewoman near her, she rose and made a curtsy; and “Madam,” quoth she, weeping, “I am one of the most misfortunate women alive.”

“I don’t wish to hear pipers’ news and fiddlers’ tales, goodwife,” quoth the green woman. “I know you have lost your goodman — we had worse losses at the Sheriff Muir [a common saying, in response to a complaint about a trifle]; and I know that your sow is unco [strangely, extremely] sick. Now what will you give me if I cure her?”

“Anything your ladyship’s madam likes,” quoth the witless goodwife, never guessing whom she had to deal with.

“Let us wet thumbs on that bargain,” quoth the green woman; so thumbs were wetted, I warrant you; and into the sty madam marches.

She looks at the sow with a long stare, and then began to mutter to herself what the goodwife couldn’t well understand; but she said it sounded like:

Pitter patter,
Holy water.

Then she took out of her pocket a wee bottle, with something like oil in it; and she rubs the sow with it above the snout, behind the ears, and on the tip of the tail. “Get up, beast,” quoth the green woman. No sooner said than done. Up jumps the sow with a grunt, and away to her trough for her breakfast.

The goodwife of Kittlerumpit was a joyful goodwife now, and would have kissed the very hem of the green woman’s gown-tail, but she wouldn’t let her.

“I am not so fond of ceremonies,” quoth she; “but now that I have righted your sick beast, let us end our settled bargain. You will not find me an unreasonable, greedy body. I like ever to do a good turn for a small reward. All I ask, and will have, is that baby boy in your bosom.”

The goodwife of Kittlerumpit, who now knew her customer, gave a shrill cry like a stuck swine. The green woman was a fairy, no doubt; so she prays, and cries, and begs, and scolds; but all wouldn’t do.

“You may spare your din,” quoth the fairy, “screaming as if I was as deaf as a doornail. But this I’ll let you know: I cannot, by the law we live under, take your bairn till the third day; and not then, if you can tell me my right name.”

So madam goes away round the pigsty end; and the goodwife falls down in a swoon behind the knocking stone.

Ah well, the goodwife of Kittlerumpit could not sleep any that night for crying, and all the next day the same, cuddling her bairn till she nearly squeezed its breath out. But the second day she thinks of taking a walk in the wood I told you of. And so with the bairn in her arms, she sets out, and goes far in among the trees, where was an old quarry hole, grown over with grass, and a bonny spring well in the middle of it. Before she came very near, she hears the whirring of a flax wheel, and a voice singing a song; so the woman creeps quietly among the bushes, and peeps over the brow of the quarry; and what does she see but the green fairy tearing away at her wheel, and singing like any precentor:

Little kens [knows] our guid dame at hame,
That Whuppity Stoorie is my name.

“Ha, ha!” thinks the woman, “I’ve got the mason’s word at last. The devil give them joy that told it!”

So she went home far lighter than she came out, as you may well guess — laughing like a madcap with the thought of cheating the old green fairy.

Ah well, you must know that this goodwife was a jocose woman, and ever merry when her heart was not very sorely overladen. So she thinks to have some sport with the fairy; and at the appointed time she puts the bairn behind the knocking stone, and sits on the stone herself. Then she pulls her cap over her left ear and twists her mouth on the other side, as if she were weeping; and an ugly face she made, you may be sure. She hadn’t long to wait, for up the brae climbs the green fairy, neither lame nor lazy; and long ere she got near the knocking stone she screams out, “Goodwife of Kittlerumpit, you know well what I come for. Stand and deliver!”

The woman pretends to cry harder than before, and wrings her hands, and falls on her knees with “Och, sweet madam mistress, spare my only bairn, and take the wretched sow!”

“The devil take the sow, for my part,” quoth the fairy. “I come not here for swine’s flesh. Don’t be contramawcious, huzzy, but give me the child instantly!”

“Ochone, dear lady mine,” quoth the crying goodwife; “forgo my poor bairn, and take me myself!”

“The devil is in the daft jade,” quoth the fairy, looking like the far end of a fiddle. “I’ll bet she is clean demented. Who in all the earthly world, with half an eye in his head, would ever meddle with the likes of thee?”

I trow this set up the woman of Kittlerumpit’s bristle, for though she had two blear eyes and a long red nose besides, she thought herself as bonny as the best of them. So she springs off her knees, sets the top of her cap straight, and with her two hands folded before her, she makes a curtsy down to the ground, and, “In troth, fair madam,” quoth she, “I might have had the wit to know that the likes of me is not fit to tie the worst shoestrings of the high and mighty princess, Whuppity Stoorie.”

If a flash of gunpowder had come out of the ground it couldn’t have made the fairy leap higher than she did. Then down she came again plump on her shoe-heels; and whirling round, she ran down the brae, screeching for rage, like an owl chased by the witches.

The goodwife of Kittlerumpit laughed till she was like to split; then she takes up her bairn, and goes into her house, singing to it all the way:

A goo and a gitty, my bonny wee tyke,
Ye’se noo ha’e your four-oories;
Sin’ we’ve gien Nick a bane to pyke,
Wi’ his wheels and his Whuppity Stoories.

The Grey Lady of Glamis haunts the family chapel and the Clock Tower of the world-famous Glamis Castle.  Steeped in centuries of tale and legend, the castle has been standing since the late 1300’s, and has seen its fair share of goings-on.  The Grey Lady of Glamis is believed to be Lady Janet Douglas, burned at the stake as a witch in 1537, and who has haunted the grounds of Glamis Castle ever since. Family feuds involving illegitimate children, forced imprisonment, civil wars and seizures of lands and titles fuelled King James V’s hatred towards his stepfather, Archibald Douglas, 6th Earl of Angus.  Once married to his mother, Margaret Tudor, tensions had become bitterly acrimonious, to the point that the King held nothing but contempt for the Archibald Douglas and the Clan Douglas. Imprisoned by his stepfather and held against his will, King James V was finally broken free and Janet quickly became the target of his revenge.  Archibald Douglas fled to England, leaving Janet in the firing line.

In 1528, upon the death of her first husband, John Lyon, 6th Lord of Glamis, Janet was immediately summoned for treason, accused of supporting the civil war against the King and of poisoning Lyon.  Charges were eventually dropped, and she remarried Archibald Campbell in 1532, having ceased all communication with her brothers to prove her innocence in any plot against the King.  Janet’s reprieve was short-lived, however, as in 1537, she was once again summoned for treason.

This time, the charges brought against her included being in secret talks with the Douglas clan, attempting to poison the King and witchcraft.  Glamis Castle was confiscated by the Crown, and Janet’s family and servants were savagely tortured until they gave false evidence against her.  Even her young son was forced to watch the torture before he too, was put to the rack.  These testimonies were enough to convict Janet of witchcraft, and she was burned at the stake as a witch in the grounds of Edinburgh Castle.  It is said King James forced her son to watch her agonising death before letting him go.

Many witnesses claim to have seen the Grey Lady of Glamis whilst visiting Glamis Castle, so why not visit it yourself and see if you can spot her?

The tale of Alexander Lindsay, the 4th Earl of Crawford is by far one of the most popular ghost stories of Glamis.  Known as “Earl Beardie”, Alexander Lindsay is alleged to have been a cruel, evil man with a wicked temperament and a searing bloodlust.  Born to nobility and of a particularly influential character, he was involved in the battles against King James II as part of the Douglas clan uprisings.  As we mentioned, he was an evil man, and it is alleged that he once had a black house-servant stripped naked and forced to run around in the grounds for his and the other Earls’ entertainment.  In a macabre twist, the ‘entertainment’ was actually a hunt, and the poor man was chased down by Earl Beardie, his guests, and their hunting dogs.  His screams rang out over the land as he was stabbed with spears and literally torn apart by the dogs, defenceless and stricken by mortal fear.

It is further alleged that the display was watched by the noblewomen from the safety of the castle, where they laughed in delight.  What happened to the body after the hunt was over does not appear to be recorded, but is more than likely he would have been eaten by the dogs or other animals on the land.  The ghost of this manservant is reputed to be that of ‘Jack the Runner’ – a spirit who runs through the halls at night screaming in pain and terror.  The Earl’s indulgences in vices lead us directly to his own ghost story, as it was whilst gambling that Earl Beardie is reported to have met his demise.  There are various different takes on how the story begins, but they all centre around a game of cards being played late on a Saturday night at the castle.  Whether a fight broke out over alleged cheating, failure to notice the lateness of the hour, or perhaps just from sheer petulance, we will never know, but the legend leads us to believe the Earl was forewarned by a servant that it was close to midnight, and that gambling on the Sabbath was sacrilege.  The Earl is said to have scoffed at the servant, ordering him out of the room.  Again, depending on the story you read or hear, either the other players take heed and leave, or they do not, and the game continues.

At the stroke of midnight, a knock is heard on the door of the room in which the card game is still being played, and a dark, mysterious figure asks to join the game.  The Earl agrees that the mystery man can play, and a new game begins.  Sometime in the early hours of Sunday morning, arguing and shouting was heard coming from the room.  When the servant opened the door, the Earl was engulfed in flames.  The mystery man is always reported to be the devil himself, having won the Earl’s soul in a game of cards, and condemning him to play until Doomsday for daring to play cards on the Sabbath.

In other versions of the story, a cloaked devil appears out of thin air, taking both Earl Beardie and his playing companions back to the underworld where are destined to gamble for all eternity.  Sounds such as shouting, stomping feet, banging doors and swearing are all reported to come from the West Tower of the castle – the alleged site of the card game (according to some).  There have also been reports of residents and guests sighting a bearded man wandering the castle, again, believed to be the spirit of Earl Beardie, and others have even described being touched by the spectre itself.

As far as legends go, it’s certainly a vibrant tale, adapted and altered over time to suit the listener or reader, but, with so many inconsistencies in the tale, we’ll probably never know the real story of what happened to the man nicknamed by many as the “wicked Earl.”

Welcome to our section on real-life tales of the unexpected, where things go bump in the night, and all sorts of creepy and weird things come crawling out from the darkness.  Here, we have taken a selection of stories as given to us by our fans, based on their own personal experiences of the paranormal, and some of them are hair-raising to say the least.  If you have your own story to tell, please get in touch and we will feature you.  You can remain anonymous if you want – it’s entirely up to you…but if you have a story, you’ve almost got an obligation to tell it!

The most local ghost story I heard was from my Mum not quite in Dundee but close enough, at the Muirdrum. It was in the 70s before I was born. My mum and dad were driving to Arbroath and through the Muirdrum this was back when the road was single lanes and the Muirdrum had a couple of horrid bends. Dad was driving and it was pretty horrendous weather when they saw a car come up behind them driving really erratic on both sides of the road. Dad realised the car wasn’t going to slow down and plough into them so pulled off the road onto the kerb. There was a 73 bus in front of them and the driver must have clocked the driver too, as he stopped and Dad saw him shouting at the passengers to start getting off the bus as the guy was clearly going to crash into them. The car did go straight into the back of the bus and disappeared. Mum says everyone out on the pavement just kind of went quiet and were starring in disbelief at what they had just seen, then they got back on the bus and Mum and Dad went back to the car and went on their way. Mum said that the car was an old sedan type and was completely solid and they could clearly see a male driver and passenger. Very odd & would love to know if anyone else knows anything about sightings of a ghost car at Muirdrum. Mum can only assume there must have been a fatal crash at some point on the bends; maybe now the bends have gone, it’s no more; maybe it was the weather that brought it on..?

– Laura Milne, Dundee

I heard a story when I was fairly young, maybe about 10 or 11, about a neighbour of mine using a Ouija board whilst camping out with her friends in her granny’s back garden.  They were a few years older than me, but this particular girl was a bit of a show-off and loved to tell everyone her business, so we used to talk all the time (she mostly talked and I mostly listened).  She told me that the board said that her granny was going to die, and it totally freaked her out.  I remember her crying as she told me, and I got upset and scared by it, so I told my Mum, and she went over and told the girl’s granny, who was understandably furious.  The girl didn’t speak to me all week, and I felt really bad for getting her into trouble.  The following Sunday morning, I remember as clear as day.  We were woken early in the morning, maybe about 4 or 5.  It was still dark outside, but there were lights flashing in the windows and a lot of commotion.  My Mum and I watched from the window as someone was taken from the house on a stretcher, fully covered, and put into the back of an ambulance.  We found out later that it was the girl’s granny who had died suddenly, and I still get chills thinking about the message the girl said she got from the Ouija board almost a week earlier.

– Kim W, Dundee

When I worked in Mains castle approximately 10 to 15 years ago, a lot of strange things would happen. I remember one day I was asked to go in on a Sunday morning after there had been a wedding party the night before. I was in the castle alone, as the owner was away running some errands and I was just cleaning up from the night before, getting on with my job and minding my own business. I was in the bar area and I heard the big, heavy oak door from the toilet downstairs opening, and then slamming shut!! I assumed the owner was back so went downstairs and there was nobody there and the hallway was in total darkness! That’s the one major story I always remember about my time at Mains castle. Also, there would be times myself or other members of staff would go up to the top floor where the silver service cutlery was kept, and, as we walked across the room, a dark shadow would quickly move across the floor and up the fireplace.  It could be quite a scary place to work!

– Anonymous, Dundee

About 8 years ago, I was walking my dog in Baxter Park. It was autumn and about 4:30pm, so it was beginning to get quite dark. I walked up the path closest to Baxter Park Terrace, as my dog (as usual) just ran about demented.  As I walked up the path in the direction of the pavilion, I saw a woman walking towards me pushing a pram. The woman appeared to be wearing grey clothes – a knee length skirt, grey woollen stockings, and a coat with some sort of snood or large hood on it, which was pulled up. The pram was definitely Victorian in design. It had 4 big wheels and a sprung buggy-carriage with a hood. As the woman walked towards me, I felt compelled to look at her and to look in the pram. I looked at her but could not see a face. This did not, at the time, seem odd, as she had her hood up and it was getting dark. The odd and a little disturbing (but not frightening) thing was that, as I looked in the pram, I saw nothingness. By this, I mean a complete void. It was like I could have leaned into the pram and fell into nothingness. Really odd. My dog and I walked past the woman and pram and I quickly turned around to see if she was behind us. She was gone.

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– Neil Sneddon, Dundee (images provided by Neil)

My parents moved me out of Dundee after a set of strange incidents happened in our house in the Nethergate in late 1938 or so.  My mother’s best friend was a clairvoyant, and she lived across the landing from us, so we were always in and out of each other’s houses.  My sisters and I played with her children, whilst she and my mother chatted and hosted séances with their friends.  We were allowed to play until very late at night, which was unusual for many families at that time, but such was the nature of my mother and her friend.  I would have been about 6 at the time – the youngest of them all, but I was still allowed to play until the same time as my two older sisters.  My father very rarely had an opinion on the matter, or any matter, to be honest, as my mother was quite a fiery character and never held her tongue (and she was quite handy with her fists too, but that’s another story).  This one night, as us girls played, we all heard this scream coming from the closed off sitting room where a séance was being held.  We never entered this room, but all ran to the door and listened as hard as we could.  We didn’t hear anything other than a few scuffles and bumps, and then the door was flung open and about 4 or 5 people were suddenly trying to escape the room all at once.  I remember my father shouting and swearing for them to calm down and not to knock us over and harm us.  We dashed out of the way, all crying and confused by what was going on and scared of getting trampled on.  Nobody spoke of it, and we were all sent to bed immediately.  We sat up for ages afterwards, listening to the grown-ups arguing before I must have dozed off.  During the following week, between our place and the one next door, we must have experienced at least twenty strange things happening.  Soft music would play in the air, with no obvious source; plates would suddenly fall off the table and smash to the floor; bedding would be removed from the bed and discarded in the corner, and my mother complained that food began to go stale as soon as it came into the house.  My mother suffered from excruciating headaches and terrible night tremors during this time, too.  The disturbances did eventually calm down until everything went back to normal.  Over the course of the next week or two, things became less intense until they eventually stopped, but the relationship between my mother and her friend never recovered, and neither did my mother’s peace of mind.  By the end of that same year, we had moved out of Dundee altogether, and my mother never again spoke of the incident that nearly made her lose her mind.

– Elizabeth Urqhuart, formerly Dundee (now Edinburgh)

It was August this year (2014), my daughter was home on leave from the Navy and we had been out in the afternoon. We missed the number 17 bus so decided to get a 28 and walk up the road from there. We got off at the stop just before Logie Cemetery.  On passing the cemetery, my daughter said that she didn’t even know it existed, despite having been brought up in the area. I told her it was said to be haunted and had quite a creepy history and she was intrigued. We ended up (after reading the plaque on the wall) going into the cemetery. Even in daylight it’s creepy…and it didn’t help much that one of the first graves we read said “I am not dead, only asleep”. We didn’t stay long because we were a bit spooked by the place even though we were really curious about it, and planned to come back another day. As the evening went on the subject of the Logie arose and as a dare really to each other, we thought it would be fun to go back at night and take some photographs. I don’t think either of us really wanted to go back there, but it seemed like a challenge – and neither of us wanted to admit we were actually terrified at the very idea! Another friend decided he would come with us. He thought it would be a bit of a hoot because I doubt very much if he believed in all the ghost stories about the place.  By the time we reached the cemetery, we were quite nervous but the brave man we were with strode right in and up the mound to try to read some of the graves and prove there are no such things as “ghosties”. Within around 5 minutes, things started happening. My daughter and I became cold to the point of shivering from the inside out, even though it wasn’t a cold night.  I became dizzy and off-balance and felt like I was being pushed around.  Then my daughter let out an awful squeal saying something had just felt her backside. All this time, our male friend was wandering around unaware of what we were experiencing when he suddenly shouted “What the f*ck was that?” He bounded towards us like he had seen a ghost (maybe he had) but never elaborated on what he had heard or seen or felt up there. We decided quickly to leave when, in our ears, there was a deep growling sound – I  can’t even begin to describe how scary it sounded, but it was enough to make 3 fully grown adults leg it as fast as we could out of there. I swore never ever to return, that was evil beyond belief. However today, I did return to take some photos during the day this time. I only stood on the inside of the gate to take my photos as just beyond there was where that growling thing was and I had no desire to go up there. Within minutes of entering the cemetery I got a banging headache, felt like I was going to be sick and my balance was all over the place.  I know it doesn’t sound particularly exciting or creepy, but when it happens to you, it really is. I know what that growl sounded like and I can almost guarantee that was not from anything that could possibly have any good intentions. I don’t know who is meant to haunt that place, but as far as I’m concerned they can haunt it all they want without any more visits from me! I know what we heard and what we felt that night in August and I know what I felt today standing just inside the gate of that place and I don’t intend risking another visit to that god forsaken place.

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– Ali Gee, Dundee (images provided by Ali)

I used to work in a High School in Dundee (a long time ago now) and one morning as I was cleaning the stairs, I felt someone touch me on the back.  I thought it was one of the other cleaners but when I turned around, nobody was there.  I didn’t think too much about it at first, but then a few minutes later it happened again, but this time, a lot harder, almost like someone had slapped my back.  I screamed out in surprise, and one of the other girls came to see what I was screaming at, and as soon as she did, she felt someone (or something) touch her on the back too.  We agreed there and then that we’d always clean the stairs together, just in case it happened again, but it never did – and I still have no idea what it was.

– Mary Walker, Perth, Australia

I always remember road trips on holidays with my grandparents when I was a young girl, and my granny always falling asleep in the car soon after any long drive started. Whenever we drove out from Dundee and took the A9 towards Glasgow, at some point between Perth and Stirling my granny would always wake, and say she had a shiver down her spine. My granddad told us she always woke at the same place on those drives, and it was where the last local witch was buried. I think he said it was near Dunning but I’ve never tried to corroborate the story.

– Louise Murphy, Dundee

I was quite young when I had this experience, so the memory of it is a bit faded, but I remember playing with my toys in the living room whilst my Mum was out of the room, and, whilst I was alone, something grabbed my shoulder from behind. It happened really fast, but I remember being confused by it and not scared, even though nobody was behind me. When I turned my head back, the same thing happened again, and, as before, nobody was there. I never bothered telling my Mum about it, and had probably forgotten about it not long after it happened, but I still think about that weird experience from time to time and wonder if someone was trying to tell me something from beyond the grave.

– Steve, Dundee

When I was younger, I used to run everywhere. I was in a running team and just loved it. One day when I was about 15, I was resting in a playground after a run. It was hot, and probably mid-afternoon. I noticed a bus coming along the road, and decided I would try and outrun it (as kids do), so I started to sprint as soon as it caught up to where I was resting. I was trying to go as fast as I could, when I swear I heard this voice say to me “You can run faster than this, go for it” as this strange, tribal noise starting battering in my ears. It was literally like I had a sound system blaring in my ears as I ran. The bus was pulling much further in front of me now, but I kept on running like a nutcase, thinking I could outrun the noise as well as the bus. I turned to my left and saw a young, coloured lad running along the road beside me. He could have been no more than 6 or 7, and he was laughing and whooping as he ran. I got such a fright, I stumbled and fell over my ankle, skinning my knees in the process. When I looked up, the boy had gone, and so had the music. This happened in Kirkton about 30-odd years ago. It only happened the once, and I never had the experience again.

– Anonymous

I know it’s not Dundee, but I thought I would share my experience anyway, I hope you don’t mind. My granddad used to be a carpenter and, about 10 years ago, he made me a detailed carving of a cross which I put on a wall in an upstairs bedroom of my house. My family and I went out one afternoon for lunch and, upon returning to our house we found the carving on the floor of the downstairs hallway – snapped in half! Our house was locked and we all left together and returned at the same time so it couldn’t have been any of us. To this day, we still have no idea how it happened. We still live in the same house, and we still have the broken cross, even though my granddad made me a new one (which is fine, by the way).

– Shelly, Perth

This story is about my Dad, but he won’t let me post his name, so I have to give this anonymously, sorry. When he was younger (he is nearly 60 now), he was out with his friend on their bikes, over the back of Whitfield, when they stopped at a field to cool off. An elderly man walked up to them and asked them for directions to Blair farm, or something like that. My dad says he and his pal looked at each other, and when they turned to tell the man they didn’t know where it was, he had vanished.

– Anonymous

Remembered my own wee story (not sure if this is true or not as I don’t remember at all!) I was 3 and had an imaginary friend called Tommy who had blond curly hair and wore a green velvet suit (I’m not sure you would know this at 3!) This was around 1976/7 and we lived in the tenements on Albert Street. Tommy had to get a place set at the table and I would scream don’t sit down Tommy is sitting there. So it turns out that while decorating and removing the layers of wallpaper, it revealed the words written on the wall “Tommy 1911 – 1914”! (I do remember playing on the landing with a tea set and no dolls or teddies for hours!).

– Lee Hill, Dundee