Me, swinging from the hangman’s noose

No way the executioner was taking me… James Griffiths, 47, from Widnes, Cheshire

S

tepping into the ancient bedroom, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. There was no doubt about it. Something was in here… something evil.

It was May 2011, and I was the psychic medium with a ghost hunting team investigating reported hauntings at The Old Crown Inn in Birmingham.

Evil spirit

Since we’d arrived at the pub, said to be built in 1368, I’d been spooked.

I’d felt invisible eyes watching my every move. And my mobile had disappeared.

Where on earth’s it gone? I wondered.

But this ancient oak-beamed bedroom took ‘creepy’ to a new level.

Paul, who was recording the investigation, and two young women who were also on the team, had followed me in.

I turned round to speak to them – and gasped.

The girls had transfigured into witches, old hags with lank, dark hair, and black robes.

Their faces soon returned to normal. But the spirits of the witches were still there.

‘Do you sense something?’ Paul asked, eagerly.

Not wanting to scare the girls, I shrugged. Suddenly, the shadowy figure of a huge man appeared beside me. He was the evil spirit.

Something tightened round my throat. An invisible rope. ‘What the..?’ I gasped. It hit me with a jolt of terror. The ghost was an evil hangman… and he was trying to hang me.

I was dragged upwards until I was on my tiptoes. ‘Are you OK?’ Paul asked. I tried to answer, but I could barely breathe.

My head lolling to one side, I was hoisted higher still. I swayed on the end of the executioner’s rope.

The hangman’s emotions filled the room. Pleasure.

He was enjoying himself, getting a kick from seeing me in his noose.

The girls huddled together in terror.

Pain

Suddenly, I was pulled backwards.

I groaned with pain as my back crashed into plasterboard. He was trying to pull me through the wall.

I was bent backwards. My back felt as though it was splintering.

The pain was unbelievable. At

A shadowy figure of a man appeared beside me

any moment, I thought my spine would break. I had to fight back or die.

Come on, James, I told myself. Don’t let him take you.

I started pulling myself upright. It was a fight to the death. With one last effort, I managed to get myself straight. The hangman disappeared. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Paul gasped. I stumbled from the room, collapsed in the hall. Face down, I burst into tears of pain and shock. I staggered to my car, began to drive. I couldn’t escape the feeling I’d brought something with me. A black, menacing presence. At home, I went to bed, but was in too much agony to sleep. Soon I was feverish, aching all over. Pain spread from my back into my chest. The following day, livid red weals appeared on my chest and legs.

‘It’s shingles,’ my GP said. ‘Have you had a shock lately?’ I nodded. ‘You could say that,’ I said. The symptoms should have only lasted a few weeks. But nearly three months later, I still felt so ill, some days I could barely get out of bed. My back was stiff, painful. What was going on?

Terrified

One night, I collapsed into bed, shattered and ill as usual.

Suddenly, I sat bold upright.

At the end of my bed was a witch.

One of the hags I’d seen in the pub.

The witch had attached herself to me when I was weak after the hangman’s attack.

She was the evil presence I’d felt in my car afterwards And that’s why I was so ill. She was draining me. Now I was at my weakest, she had come for me. Panic bubbled in my stomach.

‘Please help me,’ I prayed. ‘Take her where she belongs.’

Then, too tired to fight, I slipped into an exhausted sleep.

When I woke the next morning, she’d disappeared.

I got out of bed…and gasped. The pain in my back had gone. I felt healthy again. The shock to my system from the hangman’s attack was so bad, it’d made me ill.

The evil hag preyed on me, waiting until I was weak. Then she came for me.

God knows what she wanted.

It still makes me shudder.

Thank goodness someone was watching over me. I don’t know who it was, but I know I owe them my life.

As a medium and paranormal investigator, I’ve seen lots of terrifying things. But that was one of the scariest experiences I’ve ever had.

Evil witches belong in story books…not your bedroom!

The evil hag preyed on me, waiting until I was weak