My Personal Ghost Story - The Night That Started It All.
My Paranormal Origin Story.
When I was 14 years old, back in 1996, my friends and I embarked on a trip that would forever change how I viewed the world. We set off for a remote cottage known to us simply as Akenshaw Burn, nestled deep in the dense forests of Hexham, Northern England. Coming from a council estate background, this was a rare and thrilling adventure. We were excited, loaded with brand-new camping and hiking gear our parents had treated us to just for this trip. Fifteen of us crammed into a minibus, buzzing with anticipation.
After a 90-minute drive, we arrived at Akenshaw Burn, quickly unpacking our gear into the rustic dormitories—boys in one room, girls in another. We spent that first rainy day hiking through muddy trails and cooking our meals on tiny Hexi stoves. By evening, we were soaked, tired, and grateful to relax around a roaring fire.
Eventually, exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted off to sleep first, much to the amusement of my friends. Soon after, we all retreated upstairs to our dormitory for the night. The room was simple yet strangely memorable, lined with bunk beds crafted roughly from local forest wood, bark still clinging to their edges. My bed was positioned uniquely in the center of the room, set against the far wall.
We were warned about the darkness—once the generator shut off, the cottage would plunge into absolute, impenetrable blackness. Holding our torches close, we settled into our sleeping bags. Sure enough, when the hum of the generator ceased, a darkness I’d never experienced enveloped us. I couldn’t see my hand inches from my face; opening and closing my eyes made no difference.
Sleep wouldn't come. I lay restless, a vague unease growing inside me. Suddenly, something caught my eye—a dim, bluish-white glow, no larger than a tennis ball, hovering in the corner of the room. My first thought was that someone had turned on their torch. But then, it started growing. It expanded slowly, shifting into a rugby-ball shape, illuminating the room just enough to see the entrance, the old fireplace, the ancient hand-cranked fire alarm, and a small cupboard.
Fear gripped me as the glowing shape morphed further, taking on unmistakable human features—a small child, glowing softly in blue, dressed in clothes from what I assumed to be the turn of the century, complete with a flat cap. My heart began to pound so violently that I could hear it thundering in my ears.
Terrified, I frantically reached for my torch, switching it on in panic—forgetting it was still buried inside my sleeping bag. Its red-tinted glow barely illuminated anything, but the figure remained clear, undisturbed, calmly walking toward the dormitory door. Only when I managed to pull the torch free and aim it directly at the figure did it vanish into thin air.
In that instant, my fear turned to action. "I just saw a ghost!" I shouted, bolting from my bunk and racing out of the room, closely followed by ten equally terrified friends. Even the youth leader seemed shaken, despite his attempts to rationalize what I'd experienced.
The rest of that night was sleepless torture. I lay awake, my trembling hands holding a torch whose beam quivered as the batteries rattled inside. I didn't see the apparition again, but I spent another night in that dormitory, counting the hours until daylight.
Years later, as an adult, I discovered that Kielder Forest, including Akenshaw Burn, was a man-made forest, created in the 1920s and 1930s to address timber shortages encountered during World War I. The cottage we'd stayed in had housed forestry workers who planted and maintained the forest back then. Could the apparition I witnessed have been the child of one of these forestry workers, or perhaps even a victim of a tragic accident during those early forestry operations? It's entirely possible, given the harsh and often dangerous working conditions of that era.
That single, unforgettable encounter at Akenshaw Burn ignited an enduring curiosity and passion within me for the paranormal—a fascination that's only grown stronger through the years, shaping my life and interests profoundly. It was the night that started it all.