Dr Grimoire writes:
Recently I had the great pleasure to perform in the Great Hall at Newstead Abbey, the ancestral home of the poet Lord Byron whose ancestors went in for Satanic rituals and left more than their fair share of ghosts and spirits behind to haunt the building today.
You can probably imagine just how spooky an experience it is for the audience in such a venue. After a glass or two of wine my slightly weird butler, Crusher, led them through the candle-lit cloisters, and up a grand stone staircase into the dimly lit oak-panelled room.
The venue is scary enough for the public - but imagine what it is like for me to be assembling my strange collection of ancient magical artefacts alone in a room like this.
Before the show I always make a point of introducing myself to any spirits that may be present and ask them to forgive my intrusion and hope that they enjoy the show. It is a ritual I am used to but has proved a bit unsettling when one of the venue’s staff overhears me doing this but I perform it for a purpose.
All too often the ghosts like to join in - and I would much rather have them on my side than working against me.
As I set up my props I became aware of another presence in the room with me which sent a distinct tingle up and down my spine. The staff had assured me that most of the ghosts were a friendly but this one seemed a little more frightening than most.
It stayed with me for around ten minutes or so and then left me in peace and the performance went without a hitch. But the next night things were not quite so calm.
Again, getting ready for the show I felt the spirits presence very strongly. This time the whole of my body positively tingled with electricity and I was aware of my hair standing on end, but as before it seemed to leave me after a time. However, once the performance had begun it seemed to want to join in in earnest.
At one point I ask selected audience members to think of the name of someone close to them who has recently passed over to the other side - and then reveal the name of the person they are thinking of. As you can imagine this is a pretty intense and often very emotional part of the evening.
As I revealed the first of the names the hasp of an ancient iron strong box which stands aside a wall next to where some members of the audience were sitting began to rattle. I was blissfully unaware of this at the time but I found out later than some members of the public were so scared they almost left the room.
Several of them looked at Crusher, the butler, to see if he was secretly making the hasp rattle but to be honest he was just as un-nerved by the experience as they were.
There were other strange noises too - a distant rumbling in the long corridor behind the Great Hall which sounded as if a heavy object was being dragged along the floor, together with a variety of creaks and knocks from the wood panelling.
After the show one of the building’s ushers came up to me. "How did you do that bit with all those strange noises?" she asked. "I didn’t notice any loudspeakers or anything. Who was making the sound effects?"
She went as white as a sheet when she realised that none of those noises had been under my control. Instead this was a disembodied and non fee paying audience from the spirit world joining in.
I have had similar incidents at other venues and I have often wondered why. My guess is that the intensity of the emotions raised by a show in which such odd things happen is partly responsible. However, I am equally sure that I attract the phantoms’ own curiosity and am always happy to welcome them to a performance - even if the audience sometimes thinks otherwise.
