Letters Concering Some Supernatural Disturbances at My Father's House at Epworth in Lincolnshire: Letter I


January 12, 1716-17.

Dear Sam,

This evening we were agreeably surprised with your pacquet, which brought the welcome news of your being alive, after we had been in the greatest panic imaginable, almost a month, thinking either you was dead, or one of your brothers by some misfortune been killed.

The reason of our fears is as follows. On the first of December our maid heard, at the door of the dining-room, several dismal groans, like a person in extremes, at the point of death. We gave little heed to her relation, and endeavoured to laugh her out of her fears. Some nights (two or three) after, several of the family heard a strange knocking in divers places, usually three or four knocks at a time, and then stayed a little. This continued every night for a fortnight; sometimes it was in the garret, but most commonly in the nursery, or green chamber. We all heard it but your father, and I was not willing he should be informed of it, lest he should fancy it was against his own death, which, indeed, we all apprehended. But when it began to be troublesome, both day and night, that few or none of the family durst be alone, I resolved to tell him of it, being minded he should speak to it. At first he would not believe but somebody did it to alarm us; but the night after, as soon as he was in bed, it knocked loudly nine times, just by his bedside. He rose, and went to see if he could find out what it was, but could see nothing. Afterwards he heard it as the rest.

One night it made such a noise in the room over our heads, as if several people were walking, then run up and down stairs, and was so outrageous that we thought the children would be frighted, so your father and I rose and went down in the dark to light a candle. Just as we came to the bottom of the broad stairs, having hold of each other, on my side there seemed as if somebody had emptied a bag of money at my feet; and on his, as if all the bottles under the stairs (which were many) had been dashed in a thousand pieces. We passed through the hall into the kitchen, and got the candle and went to see the children, whom we found asleep.

The next night your father would get Mr. Hoole to be at our house, and we all sat together till one or two o'clock in the morning, and heard the knocking as usual. Sometimes it would make a noise like the winding up of a jack, at other times, as that night Mr. Hoole was with us, like a carpenter planing deals; but most commonly it knocked thrice and stopped, and then thrice again, and so many hours together. We persuaded your father to speak and try if any voice would be heard. One night about six o'clock he went into the nursery in the dark, and at first heard several deep groans, then knocking. He adjured it to speak if it had power and tell him why it troubled his house, but no voice was heard, but it knocked thrice aloud. Then be questioned if it were Sammy, and bid it, if it were and could not speak, knock again, but it knocked no more that night, which made us hope it was not against your death.

Thus it continued till the 26th of December, when it loudly knocked (as your father used to do at the gate) in the nursery and departed. We have various conjectures what this may mean. For my own part, I fear nothing now you are safe at London hitherto, and I hope God will still preserve you. Though sometimes I am inclined to think my brother is dead. Let me know your thoughts on it.

S. W.

To Be Continued Soon!


Great Welsh Hauntings

Click on the title and visit the Haunted Lantern Room of Plas Mawr, the Spooky Rooms of Nanteos Mansion, and the Ghost of the Raglan Castle Library.

Image Source


Eight Haunted Castles to Visit in Scotland

A spooky tour of the Haunted Castles of Scotland, featuring Glamis Castle, Mylady Greensleeves, the Living Legend of Braemar, Borthwick Castle's Red Room, the Culloden Ghosts, the Drummer of Cortachy and the Phantom Piper of Culzean Castle, and Bad Lord Soulis and Robin Redcap in the Hermitage:

Eight Haunted Castles to Visit in Scotland

Image Source



The Necronomicon, or: The Book of Dead Names

The Necromomicon, or “The Book of Dead Names”, was originally called “Al Azif”, an Arabic word meaning “nocturnal sound, howling of demons”. The book was written by the half-crazed Arab Abdul Alhazred, who visited the ruins of Babylon and the subterranean secrets of Memphis, and who worshipped demons like Yog-Sothoth and Cthulhu. He died suddenly and in a mysterious way in 738. In 950, “The Book of Dead Names” was translated into Greek by Theodorus Philetas. This version impelled some experimenters to terrible invocations, before being suppressed and burnt in 1050 by the patriarch Michael, who died in 1059. The Necronomicon was translated into Latin by Olaus Wormius and into English by the magician John Dee (1527-1609).

In the 20th century, the Necronomicon was often listed for sale in book store newsletters or entries in library card catalogues. Horror writer Howard Phillips Lovecraft stated that The Widener Library at Harvard had a copy, and the catalog entry indeed asked potential readers “to inquire at desk”. The university library of Tromsø, Norway, also has a copy, published in 1994, but this document is listed as “unavailable”.

Now, the truth is that the Necronomicon is an entirely fictional book, invented by Howard Phillips Lovecraft, first mentioned in a short story written in 1922, and inspiring a lot of colleague horror and fantasy writers. But until today, many readers believe it to be a real work.

Booksellers and librarians still receive many requests for it, also because pranksters have listed the Necronomicon in rare book catalogues, or smuggled a card for it into, for example, the Yale University Library. The thin line between fact and fiction got totally blurred in the late 1970s when a book that was supposed to be a new translation of the real Necronomicon was published and sold 800,000 copies. According to the blurb, it was “the most dangerous Black Book known to the Western World”.

You can find some photographical evidence too, about the Necronomicon and/or the Cthulhu Mythos. This Cthulhu Cult Mystery Object , for instance, was recently found in the desert. And here is some Ghost Photography concerning a scientific meeting on the Innsmouth Incident, described by H.P. Lovecraft.

Listen here to a Necronomicon Horror Soundschape or a horror Audio Drama based upon a story by H.P. Lovecraft: Burn the Witch, Elizabeth Selwyn !

Content Source: The Necronomicon, or: The Book of Dead Names - Bukisa.com


The Highest Paying Site For Online Publications

The best site for your online publications (text, audio, video and slideshows) is, at this moment, undoubtedly Bukisa. It's easy to start an account (you only must have a PayPal account too), you don't have to be a techie, the publication policy is very smooth and the earnings are the best you can get, maybe also because Bukisa is a brand new company. They are working with a so-called Bukisa-index, this is something like a minimum payout-per-view you get for your work. So, what are you waiting for? Bukisa is the place to be for online composers of music and "composers of content" - like writers, photographers, filmmakers,...


Listen here to May Colven, a folk song about a medieval serial killer

False Sir John a wooing came
To a maid of beauty fair;
May Colven was this lady's name,
Her father's only heir.

He went down to her father's bower,
Where all the steeds did stand,
And he's taken one of the best steeds
That was in her father's land.

He's got on and she's got on,
As fast as they could flee,
Until they came to a lonesome part,
A rock by the side of the sea.

"Loup off the steed," says false Sir John,
"Your bridal bed you see;
For I have drowned seven young ladies,
The eighth one you shall be.

"Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,
All and your silken gown,
For it's oer good and oer costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.”

"O turn you about, O false Sir John,
And look to the leaf of the tree,
For it never became a gentleman
A naked woman to see."

He turned himself straight round about,
To look to the leaf of the tree,
So swift as May Colven was
To throw him in the sea.

"O help, O help, my May Colven,
O help, or else I'll drown;
I'll take you home to your father's bower,
And set you down safe and sound."

"No help, no help, O false Sir John,
No help, nor pity thee;
Tho' seven kings' daughters you have drownd,
But the eighth shall not be me."