First of all, I do not believe in ghosts. Seriously, there is no scientific evidence for ghosts, there is no good reason for them to exist an I do not want them to exist. I just had to say that before telling the ghost story that hasn't let me sleep for the last two nights, the two nights that have passed since my visit to Sheffield.
Sheffield is a pretty, modern city in South Yorkshire that I had decided to visit on a whim as long as I still had the opportunity, simply because it had been mentioned in one of my English books and was easy to travel to by train. Consequently, I had no clue about the main attractions of the city when I arrived and only by chance found the Cathedral and the Winter Gardensy idly squandering away the morning. It was then that I discovered a little sign for the "National Emergency Services Museum" on one of them public maps which aroused my interest. I found it quickly and happily paid to see some old fire trucks, already hearing the roaring laughter of school boys in the building. As they actually had a stunning collection of police cars and fire trucks, it could have been a rather jolly afternoon, had it not been for the weird - and more and more creepier - feeling that I got in this building. The house used to be, I should add, a combined police and fire station and was only opened in 1900, but by 1930 exclusively used by police which explains why there are prison cells on the ground floor. The latter now accomodate an exhibition on police history that would have been quite absorbing if only I had not been as scared as I was. As you may see on the second photo, the cells are connected by a stretched corridor, dimmly lighted, but objectively not scary at all. Problem is, I grew so unreasonaly terrified, that I did not dare to pass the police man on the left and look into the last cell until there were at least two other people with me (and even then I disappeared after two seconds, heading to the exit).
The feeling continued when I moved upstairs, and even though it was not as bad as in the cells anymore, I was still uncomfortable and kept a safe distance to the dummys. It was not the first museum I had been to that used dummies to illustrate history and I usually like that, but these ones were simply not trustworthy. Can a dummy be trustworthy? Well, at the very least it can look like a god damn dummy and not like a tortured soul burning in hell fire. Just a normal dummy with the facial expression of a model - but seeing them out of the corner of my eye gave me the creeps, making the shadows suddenly seem darker...
Descending the stairs in my way back, it got worse again and I rushed out as if someone was pursuing me - and who knows, maybe that was actually the case. Because ever since then, I have had the same feeling, every night, I feel something watching me in the darkness, until I turn around and can't see anything. So, I did my research. I am not the only one (which tells me I'm not going nuts at least), as apparently there have been other sightings before. Five years ago, they found a couple of untouched rooms and cells and tried to make them available for the museum. Alas, they couldn't proceed due to "mishaps" such as electrics blowing up, things inexplainably moving at night, marks on the workers' bodies and strange noises and smells. Something is definitely down there and I pray that it did not follow me and can be at peace - and if only after leaving the country.
titsay
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
