GOBLIN DEMON
The house seemed to be cursed, but I just couldn’t stay away.
took control
of my dreams
As soon as I stepped through the front door of the two-bed semi, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
It wasn’t the orange and brown 1960s wallpaper or patterned carpets causing alarm, though they did make the place feel like I was stepping into a time warp. It was the sense of evil in the air.
Crucifixes hung from several walls and bibles had been dotted strategically around the place. Salt had clearly been sprinkled on every windowsill for protection.
‘It feels really sinister,’ I shuddered.
A few weeks earlier my mate Jason, a fellow paranormal investigator, had told me about the property, which apparently belonged to his hairdresser, Jale.
‘I’ve checked it out and I’ve never experienced anything like it,’ he’d said, showing me the photos he’d captured on his investigation. ‘I’d be interested to see what you think?’
Jale had agreed I could stake the place out overnight so now, in October 2017, I’d travelled to Skegness, Lincolnshire with two friends, Becki Coulam and Jared Copeman.
Jale had left behind detailed notes for us about the house.
During the 20 years she’d lived there, she’d regularly seen the spirits of soldiers and often had recurring nightmares about being trapped in Hell. Most disturbingly of all, invisible hands had once held her under the water in the bath. She’d only narrowly escaped drowning.
Apparently, the house had once been owned by a woman whose soldier husband had died during World War II. Shortly afterwards, the woman had given birth in the loft to a still-born baby. Then her eightyear-old daughter had died falling down the stairs.
Several other sinister deaths had happened in the house over the years, including a man drowning in the bath, and a soldier shooting himself.
Eventually Jale had had enough and moved. Since then, she’d tried to rent the house out, but terrified tenants had never stayed long, and attempts to sell the place had all failed. At the end of her tether, she’d asked Jason to investigate and now he’d got me involved.
Over the next few hours, Jared, Becki and I heard growling and furniture being dragged about, and Jared got poked in the back. I could feel eyes on us, watching our every move.
‘This place is crazy,’ Becki shuddered.
Eventually she and I made up air beds in one of the bedrooms, while Jared settled down in the room across the landing.
As Becki and I huddled into our sleeping bags, we heard ghostly voices muttering.
‘There’s something evil in here with us,’ I hissed, frozen in fear.
At last we drifted into an uneasy sleep, but I had a terrifying nightmare that I was trapped in Hell, just as Jale had described in her notes.
In my dream everything was an angry red colour and I could hear people screaming and groaning.
Suddenly I jolted awake, covered in sweat. I felt dizzy and had an agonising pain in my stomach. Scrambling out of my sleeping bag, I rushed, retching, to the bathroom.
‘Something here’s making me ill,’ I groaned to Jared and Becki, keen to leave. Back home in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire I listened to the recordings we’d made in the loft.
‘We took the baby. She deserved it,’ an evil voice hissed on the recording. My blood ran cold. Had an evil spirit in the house caused the previous owner’s baby to be stillborn?
Despite our terrifying experiences, I was now desperate for answers, so a couple of weeks later, we returned to the semi, which we’d christened Hell House.
This time as we were setting up our Ouija board in one of the bedrooms, we all jumped as an eerie scream echoed around the rafters.
We were still shaking with shock as we placed our fingers on the planchette on the board, asked the spirits in the house to come forwards.
A spirit came through, claiming to be the little girl who had died falling downstairs. But a sick feeling in my stomach told me the spook in the room with us was no innocent child.
‘Who are you really?’ I asked. I watched in horror as the planchette started to slide across the board, spelling out Z-O-Z-O.
The spook was no innocent child
I’d heard of ZoZo, an evil demon unleashed by Ouija boards, who was infamous for possessing people, plaguing his victims with bad luck, illness and depression, even driving them to suicide.
We tried to move the planchette to ‘goodbye’ to force ZoZo to leave. But no matter how hard we pushed, it wouldn’t budge.
‘Say the Lord’s Prayer,’ I whispered frantically, as the planchette went crazy, spinning in a figure of eight.
Finally, chanting prayers, we managed to force the planchette to ‘goodbye’.
Later that night, Becki and I were in the kitchen, taking photos.‘Look at that!’ I gasped, showing Becki some shots I’d snapped on my mobile.
There, clear as day, was a chilling, goblin-like face in the mirror on the kitchen wall, dark sockets where its eyes should have been.
‘It’s ZoZo,’ I stammered. Although I was completely freaked out, after that visit, Hell House still pulled me back. It was like a compulsion.
On our next visit, we took a medium with us.
‘There’s an evil entity here. It looks like a goblin,’ she said when we reached the loft.
‘ZoZo,’ I gasped, remembering the goblin-like face I’d snapped in the mirror.
Then we moved into one of the bedrooms. Again, the medium sensed a presence.
‘She’s an evil old woman. People see her in that mirror,’ the medium explained, pointing to the mirror on the wardrobe door. ‘She possessed a woman who used to live here and made her push her little girl downstairs.’
‘That’s horrible,’ I gasped. I had a nasty feeling the spirit of the old hag was none other than ZoZo himself, who’d shape-shifted into the form of a woman.
After each visit I felt drained and I was still having the nightmares about being trapped in Hell. But still the house pulled me back like a magnet...
Just before Christmas 2018 we went back again.
Becki and I were in one of the bedrooms when she suddenly gasped. ‘I can see a lady standing on the stairs,’ she told me. ‘She’s got dark hair down to her waist and she’s wearing a white dress.’
We followed the figure into the other bedroom, where we sat on the bed. There, in the mirror, was the evil face of a woman, leering at us.
I knew the entity was ZoZo, imitating a female spirit.
ZoZo came through again later that night when we did another Ouija board.
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ I snapped. ‘Leave us alone.’
Not long after that last visit I heard the house had sold and the new owners have renovated it. I don’t know whether they know about its past or if they’ve experienced any activity.
Over two years on, the place feels like unfinished business for me and I’m still desperate for answers.
Was the house a portal? Had someone else dabbling with a Ouija board in the past originally invited ZoZo in, sparking all the problems?
All I know is that every other haunted place I’ve visited, no matter how sinister, has been a walk in the park compared to Hell House. I still occasionally experience the nightmares it triggered. But, crazy though it sounds, I’d go again tomorrow.
Hell House is always in my head, pulling me back, as if it wants me there. Some day I hope to uncover its evil secrets.