I write a lot about my life on this little blog... the good, the bad and the ugly. But something I’ve never written about is the scary. So, for Halloween, I thought I’d post something a bit different. I’m going to tell you about the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me.
Whether you choose to believe it or not is up to you. The dialogue might not always be 100% accurate, and little details here and there might be jumbled… but all of these events actually happened. Not too long ago, in fact.
It all started on a weekend trip to North Wales. It was a treat for my auntie, for her 50th birthday. My mum knew she’d get a telling off if she did anything *too* extravagant, so she settled on a small holiday cottage in Llandyrnog (good luck pronouncing that if you're not from Wales). The whole thing sounded pretty boring, if I’m honest – the only upside being that my cousins were coming.
My cousins and I are super close in age. Evie’s a year older; Kiera’s 11 months younger. The two of them shared a bedroom opposite my sister Clara and me, but we spent most of our time huddled together in their room.
For as long as I can remember, us girls have loved all things spooky and supernatural. When we were younger, we’d stay up ‘til midnight, sitting around in the dark sharing our favourite urban legends. There was the one about the babysitter, or that one with the creepy doll, or the killer clown, or the man with the hook for a hand… At 23, I was still just as into the whole thing – although now, I preferred real-life thrills.
All four of us had gathered in my cousins’ room, with a huge pile of junk food and a disregard for diabetes. While we were stuffing our faces with cheesy Dorito’s, Evie told us about an abandoned asylum not far from where we were staying.
At first, I thought she was making the whole thing up, but she proved me wrong by pulling it up on Google. Denbigh Asylum. Creepy as hell. You can take a look for yourself, if you want.
As soon as Evie showed us the photos, I knew I had to go. Luckily, the girls were just as on board as I was – and so the next day, we told our mums we wanted to explore the village.
What we really meant by that, though, was: we wanted to explore the asylum.
The asylum was just a half an hour bus journey away. We arrived at about 2:30pm. Evie did a bit of research beforehand, and found that we’d have to enter the grounds from the side. Nevertheless, though, before we did, we decided to check it out from the front.
The main entrance was blocked off by a large iron gate. On it were several warning signs, threatening “TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED”. (Spoiler: we weren't.) Through the gates, we could see the main building. I eyeballed it in awe, taken aback by its size.
The building itself was quite beautiful, actually. (Have a gander.) Its brickwork was still mostly intact. The same couldn’t be said for the multiple windows, though, which were shattered and broken within their frames.
To get in, we had to jump a few small fences further up the road. My dodgy back made it a bit harder, but the girls helped me over them. Soon, we were on the hospital grounds – which were huge, home to numerous buildings.
We entered next to the chapel, but our interest lay in the main building. We nervously made our way towards it via the gravel path. Luckily, getting in was easy. An arson attack had left the entrance with no doors.
We entered, slightly wearily, to see the inside in total ruin. The floors were covered in rubble and wood, and parts of the ceiling had collapsed. The brickwork was cracked and crumbling, and paint peeled off the walls like decaying flesh.
The four of us stayed completely silent for a while, giving ourselves time to take the whole room in.
“This is insane,” Kiera whispered. “No pun intended.”
“Let’s have a look around,” Evie suggested, her voice low.
We followed her, creeping through the rubble carefully. The battered walls were towering high above us, and loose wires hung precariously from the ceiling. I noticed some graffiti scrawled on one of the walls. “TURN BACK. IT’S NOT SAFE.” I was about to point it out to the girls – out of amusement, not fear – when suddenly, a sharp scuffling sound came from behind us.
Quickly, I spun around.
My eyes flitted across the room, but there was nothing there.
“Rats?” I whispered. “Or bats, maybe.”
I exhaled, and we continued on.
The room was huge, and freezing, too. Aside from the rubble, it was completely bare. It certainly did have an eerie feel, but I wouldn’t say I’d felt particularly uneasy.
That all changed, though, when suddenly, from the floor above us, there was a deafening crash. The sudden disruption to the silence made my heart leap, and shock jolted through my body.
I tensed. We all looked at each other, wide-eyed. None of us dared to say a word. We’d thought that we would be alone in there. Clearly, we’d been mistaken.
The brief moment of silence felt like an eternity. It rang in my ears. I was frozen to the spot. And then, the sounds started again. Undeniable. Clear as day.
A rattling. A violent rattling. And an urgent pounding. Coming from upstairs.
Clara backed into me, and gripped at my arm.
“Someone’s fucking with us,” insisted Kiera.
“We should get out of here,” Evie said, her voice shaky. But none of us seemed able to move.
From somewhere in the distance, a door slammed – and we spun around, searching for the source of the noise.
“Hello?” Kiera called out. But we were met with silence. “Maybe we should g-”
Before Kiera was able to finish her sentence, Evie let out a scream. This set off a domino effect – even though I had no idea why I was screaming. Evie stumbled backwards, and began pelting toward the exit.
“Go! Let’s fucking go!”
She pushed past us urgently, her face etched with panic. Confused but frightened, we all ran after her.
We tore out of the building and through the grounds. We hopped the first fence. Then the second.
When we finally reached the track that we’d originally come from, I had to pause to catch my breath. My back ached and my heart was racing.
“What the fuck happened?” Kiera asked.
“I don’t know,” Evie replied, her voice high-pitched. “I just panicked.”
“That was freaky as hell,” Kiera added. “Whoever was doing that scared the shit out of me.”
I turned to Evie, who was clutching her chest. “Did you see someone?” I asked.
“No…” she said. “I just… felt weird.”
We all fell silent, panting and heaving. The silence continued the whole bus journey home.
We didn’t talk about it again until we got back to the cottage. By then, my heart rate was back to normal.
“You should have seen your face, Evie,” Kiera was laughing. “You absolutely shat yourself.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Evie snapped. “It’s not funny.”
Clara and I exchanged looks, slightly taken aback. I’d never heard Evie snap like this before. She was usually the first one to be up for a bit of banter.
Kiera clearly found it strange, too, because she was quick to fire back at her sister.
“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” she asked, her eyebrows raised. Evie just shook her head.
“It’s just a stupid story I heard about the asylum,” she said dismissively. “It freaked me out when we got there, that’s all.”
Kiera crossed her arms. “Well? What’s the story?”
“It creeped me out, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Stop being such a pussy,” Kiera groaned, rolling her eyes. “You can’t just bring it up and then leave us all hanging.”
“Oh, shut up,” Evie said. “You’ll just end up having nightmares. And then I know you’ll come and blame it on me.”
“Well, we promise not to blame you then,” I chimed in, eager to hear the story now.
Evie sighed. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Excitedly, we all nodded.
“Basically, that asylum wasn’t a nice place,” she explained. “You can look it all up on Google. They used really messed up treatment methods, like shock treatment and lobotomies… which is, like, cutting out pieces of the patients’ brains.”
“Bullshit,” Kiera objected.
“Google it!” Evie shot back. “It was a messed-up place. Seriously. All asylums were back then. But whatever, that’s not even the point.” She paused. “This is about one of the patients there. Her name was Constance Blake. She got sectioned in the 30s, after a villager found her trying to drown her new-born son in a river. She said he had the devil in him, and that she needed to kill it.
“When she was hospitalised, she was absolutely furious. She lashed out at all of the workers, and threatened to murder them. They decided she was too unstable, so they locked her in a cell, alone. They say her screams could be heard echoing through the corridors at night.
“A few years later, they started performing lobotomies at the asylum. 20 patients were forced to have the procedure, and Constance was one of them. She was dragged kicking and screaming into the treatment room… but she never came back out. Or at least, not alive.
“The people who know her story swear that they see her… That they hear her… and that she follows them around. Apparently, her spirit’s still trapped on earth. She’s vengeful. She can’t let go of her past.”
Kiera snorted. “You don’t really believe that shit, do you?”
Evie looked at her sister. “Well… no. Not really.” She drifted off, turning to peer out of the window. “It’s just that… while we were there... I just got wrapped up in it, I suppose.”
“No shit,” Kiera said, sniggering. “I’ve never seen you run so fast in your life… Or run at all, now that I think about it.”
“Shut up, you cow,” Evie retorted. “Oh – and don’t come crying to me when you see Constance in your dreams tonight.”
It didn’t start happening straight away. Maybe one, or two days had passed. We’d returned to South Wales and, in all honesty, I hadn’t even spared Evie’s story much thought.
That night, though – I think it was a Tuesday – I’d had an eerily vivid dream. Constance was stood at the end of my bed.
Totally still.
Watching me.
Her hair was long, dark, and matted. Untamed. She was pale, and skinny to the point that you could see bone. Her eyes were dark. Cold. Angry. Boring into mine.
I’d woken up with a sharp jump and switched on my light… but of course, there was nothing there. I went back to sleep, not thinking anything of it. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realised.
Faint scratch marks were covering my left arm. I dismissed it, thinking it must have been my cat. Later that evening, I told my sister. Not because I was scared – I just found it kind of funny. Just an amusing coincidence… That’s all.
Clara told me she’d had the exact same dream. I asked her to describe Constance to me, and her description matched mine perfectly.
Clara told me she’d had the exact same dream. I asked her to describe Constance to me, and her description matched mine perfectly.
Pretty creepy, I guess. But just another coincidence, of course.
In bed that night, as I’d been drifting off to sleep, I began to hear a scratching at my door. I rolled over agitatedly, groaning as I did so. Must be the bloody cat again, I thought.
The scratching continued, so I sat up impatiently. I couldn’t understand why my cat would be scratching. Every night, my door was left slightly ajar, so she could come and go as she pleased. I could have sworn I’d done the same that night. So what was her problem?
I sat up – and with a fright, I spotted a figure at the end of my bed.
It was my cat, and she was staring at the door.
But the scratching sound continued. What the hell? I thought.
Must have been one of the cats from the street, then. They’d sometimes come in through the cat flap, scrounging for food.
I paced across the room, ready to chase one away. But when I opened the door, there was nothing there.
I looked left and right, but the landing was deserted.
Weird. Just a coincidence?
Part of me thought I should do a quick once-over of the house, but I was tired as hell, and not in the mood to be chasing after strays. I figured it would have to let itself out sooner or later. That, or my cat would scare it away.
Instead, I headed back to bed. And, to be honest, I didn’t think much of it at the time.
And, sure, perhaps it was a cat.
I’ll let you make your own mind up about that.
The first thing to give me a proper scare didn’t happen ‘til the Friday after we got back from North Wales. I remember it, because Gogglebox was on that night. (That part’s not important.)
I was in the shower, eyes closed and rinsing my hair, when I heard what sounded like faint giggling.
I froze. Was I just imagining that? I strained to listen over the sound of the water.
The giggling definitely continued. I had to see where the noise was coming from. I rubbed at my eyes and forced them open, fighting against the stinging sensation from the shampoo. My towel had been slung over the shower door, preventing me from being able to see out past it. I pushed it off urgently, and watched it fall to the ground.
But when I scanned the bathroom, there was nothing there.
After that, I finished my shower at double-speed. I didn’t even bother with conditioner. I got out, got dressed and unlocked the bathroom door. Just being able to do that made me feel less trapped.
As I brushed my hair in the mirror, I could have sworn I saw a dark figure behind me. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone again. Perhaps it was just a shadow. Or a figment of my imagination. This time, though, I definitely was freaked out. I told myself it was nothing, but it didn’t ease my fear. I spoke to my sister, and told her this Constance thing was giving me the creeps – and it turned out I wasn’t the only one.
“Same,” she’d said. “I keep having really creepy nightmares. She starts crawling up my bed, but I can’t move. It’s horrible. I’ve started sleeping with my light on now. I know it’s stupid… but it feels real.”
That night, I had the exact same dream. A black figure was crawling up my bed. Its movements were sharp. Jagged, almost. Its breathing was heavy. Almost a growl.
I tried to move, but I was frozen to the spot.
I tried to scream, but I was paralysed.
I woke up with a violent jolt, my breathing heavy and my heart pounding. The room was empty, and I sat up, panting.
But, as I scrambled around for my light switch, the giggling started again. It was a manic type of giggling, and it almost seemed to echo. I felt my breath catch in my throat.
I told myself it was just someone in the alley next to my house. Or maybe it was all just in my head.
I switched off the light again, squeezing my eyes shut tightly, desperate for the fear to end.
Now, don’t get me wrong, by the way – despite these strange goings-on, my rationale hadn’t completely escaped me. It wasn’t that I necessarily believed I was being plagued by a ghost – I knew it could all just be paranoia. But whatever was happening, it was freaking me out.
Apparently, my sister felt that way, too. After a week, she started sleeping in my room. We kept the door fully open every night, to let the light in from the landing. It felt pathetic – we were too old for this kind of stuff – but it helped us to sleep at night (and god knows that we needed it).
And, for the first few days, the nightmares stopped. Finally, I thought things would go back to normal.
But it didn’t take long to realise I was wrong. Soon enough, the nightmares returned.
I was having the dream about Constance again. She was crawling up my bed, the sound of her breathing getting closer.
I lay there, paralysed. Desperate to scream.
And then I woke up, covered in sweat.
I sat up – and that’s when I saw her. Constance. At the end of my bed.
This time, I did scream.
And then… I woke up for real.
I was panting, and I could hear my sister panting next to me, too.
“Nightmare?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
This was getting ridiculous now. It had to stop. It had to end.
The day after, I opened up our group chat on Facebook, and started a conversation with Clara and my cousins.
“I wish you’d never told us the story about Constance,” I typed. “Feel free to go ahead and say I told you so.”
“Omg same,” Kiera typed back. “I’ve been having nightmares about her for weeks.”
“SAME,” my sister added.
“It feels like she’s following me around...” Kiera said.
“I told you so,”came Evie’s reply. “We should meet up this Saturday, by the way. Costa’s anyone???”
That Saturday, Clara and I headed to Costa Coffee to meet with Kiera and Evie. They were already sat at a table when we got there, with toasties and a coffee each. We both sat down to join them, not really feeling like eating. I noticed that Kiera had bags under her eyes. I wondered how much sleep she’d been missing.
“Hey,” I said.
“Alright?” said Kiera.
“How are you guys?” Evie asked.
“Okay, I suppose,” I shrugged. “I’ve not been sleeping too great. That stupid Constance story’s left me so paranoid.”
“How do you mean?” asked Evie, leaning forward in her chair.
“I dunno… Just dreaming about her… seeing her… Sometimes, I swear I can even hear her. I haven’t been able to stop looking over my shoulder.”
When I finished, Evie took a deep breath. “Listen…” she said sheepishly. “There’s something I didn’t tell you guys… you know, back when I told you the story about Constance.”
I looked at her, puzzled.
“What are you on about?” said Kiera.
“Well… I didn’t tell you the full story...” She paused, biting her lip nervously. “You know how I told you that people who hear about her eventually start seeing her, too?”
We nodded.
“Um… Well, there’s more to it than that,” she said, not looking anyone in the eye. “People say that, once you’ve heard her story, there’s still a way you can get rid of her.”
“Oh, fab,” Kiera said sarcastically. “Well, do you mind sharing your little secret with me? It’s just that I could really do with this Constance girl fucking off.”
“Okay. Just don’t get all pissy with me,” said Evie.
There was a short silence as she stared down at her drink, before she eventually continued: “Apparently, if you pass on the story about Constance, she’ll go away. She’ll leave you alone. If you tell her story to someone else, Constance will stop stalking you… You’ll have passed her on to the next person.”
“Ohhhh-kay…?” said Kiera, narrowing her eyebrows.
There was another short silence. Then suddenly...
“Hold on –” my sister said. “So you decided to tell her story to us?”
“I’m sorry!” Evie said defensively. “Obviously I didn’t believe it was true! But… I dunno. What you guys say is happening to you… it’s exactly what happened to me when I first heard about her.” She shuddered. “I swear to god, when we were in the asylum… I swear to fuck that I saw her. Or thought I saw her, anyway. I don’t know.”
I glared at Evie.
“Look, it’s probably all just in our heads,” she continued. “But after I told you guys Constance’s story, it stopped. I didn’t think it would, because I didn’t believe that any of it was real. But I stopped seeing her, and that’s all that matters. It’s probably all just psychological, isn't it? But I thought I’d tell you anyway. It’s worth a try, even if it is all bullshit. After all, it worked for me.”
I took a deep breath, trying to take everything in. I couldn’t believe she passed the story onto us… But then again, could I really blame her?
In that moment, I made up my mind. I couldn’t put up with this anymore.
The constant fear. The constant feeling of being watched. All of these happenings, progressively getting worse.
I needed to put an end to this. I needed to tell someone. And fast…
Which brings me to you.
This is the story of Constance Blake.
You might want to pass it on.
So well written thank you this spooky treat!
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