Myself and two friends used to live in neighbouring villages in the Cotswolds and as teens with very little to do we would occupy ourselves with long hikes and alcohol. One night we found a spot near a rail track, an abandoned caravan sat just off it so boys being boys we claimed it as our own and it became our den. Every night we’d head there, smoke and drink and escape from the world of school and parents.
Well, it wasn’t long before odd things started to happen there. One night we sat and talked and heard the sounds of laughter and that sound a bike wheel makes should one stick a card in the spokes, then scratching and padding around the caravan before it suddenly stopped. We thought some kids might be messing with us, as is the norm of the area, so we dived out of the van ready for a fight. Instead we were met with a wall of fog so thick we couldn’t see 10 feet ahead of us. Nobody was around and certainly no bike as the whole area was either a muddy field or the tracks. Obviously we were shaken so we started to head back.
We followed the track and about half way back to the village we round a bend over a small bridge. I looked back as I had a sense of being watched or followed, and sure enough, through the fog I could make out the faint outline of a figure sat on the bridge. Before I could say anything my friend – let’s call him L for anonymity – called out that he could see two ‘blokes’ running toward us. Again ready for a fight we braced ourselves as the ‘blokes’ reached us. I turned to check the one behind and watched as ‘IT’ stood, huge. I mean HUGE! And simply vanished. I turned as ‘L’ shrieked and our other friend – D – started sprinting back past me toward the bridge. The ‘blokes’ were on us but they were enormous, they towered above us but were stick thin, they didn’t even look like they were there; and as they bounded at us they simply vanished. We turned and began to run back after ‘D’ who was frozen in place on the bridge. We reached him and all three figures stood in the middle of the field ‘watching’ us as little black blurs darted behind them and the sounds started up again, mixed with what can only be described as a hundred dogs barking in unison.
Needless to say we have never run so fast in our lives.
We got back to our village and none of us slept right for days. We later went back to the caravan in broad daylight to find it had been wrecked. Sheet metal torn from it, holes punched through it, the ceiling caved in.
Not many people believe this as, admittedly, it is unbelievable; but every word of it true.
We took a few friends to the spot to ‘prove’ it to them, they never want to go back… Each one of them scared out of their minds. I don’t know what’s there or what they are but I won’t go back there now. Some things are better left alone.