This is my story. It is the true story of one dark night and how as a child, together with my two younger brothers we confronted that which was beyond our worst nightmares: the ghost in the outhouse in my grandmother’s back yard.


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When I was five years old my parents moved the family from our old town of Wigan to a new home in Preston. Both “towns” are in the North-West of England, not far apart, and since those days Preston has become a city.

Wigan had been home to our family since at least the middle of the 19thcentury. It is a town that had built its history on coal mining and industry, and the housing at the time of this story, typically, consisted mainly of streets of terraced housing, with the fronts directly onto the pavements.

 Around this time, of the early to mid 1960’s, many of the houses, although far removed from those hovels described in George Orwell’s The Road to WiganPier some 25years earlier, were still without inside bathrooms and toilets. The toilet was at the bottom of a stone paved yard in a small brick built outhouse with a wooden door and latch handle. We are not talking about earth closets or some old fashioned thunderbox, but a proper porcelain toilet with an overhead cistern and chain flush connected to the public sewerage system. Being house proud, in the case of my grandmas, they were always clean and tidy. However, with no electric connection out there, on a winter’s night they were a cold and dark place.

Mum and dad had a car, so it was not often that family came to visit us, but more of us going to visit them. Usually this meant going to both grandmas, with a quick visit to aunts, uncles and cousins thrown in for good measure.

Both grandmas were still alive then, as well a one granddad, my mum’s father. He was married to “big” grandma and my dad’s mum, who lived alone, was “little” grandma.

The big and little referred, not so much to height, but more to width.

On the evening in question, we were having an evening meal at little grandma’s. There was grandma, mum, dad, me aged around nine or ten, my middle brother who was two years younger than me, and my little brother who was two years younger than him.

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Comments (26)
  • Daisy Peasblossom on Apr 8, 2009

    When I was in first grade, our school still had the old-fashioned toilet at the edge of the school yard. It sat on the edge of the woods, and was a really, really scary place. I know just what you mean.

  • Patrick Bernauw on Apr 8, 2009

    Hi Chris… I enjoyed this true ghost story very much! My grandparents had an outdoor toilet too, when I was a kid… and yeah, that was a spooky place too! I never was attacked though, by a spirit.

    The teaser gets you reading… and you don’t stop, because… well, it eh… goes with the flow, I guess (don’t know if that’s appropriate with a story like yours). I love the atmosphere you create, the nostalgia, a oneliner like “The big and little referred, not so much to height, but more to width.”, the way you speak to the reader and gently gets him to those last lines, that sure ring true!

  • Rod Ferrandino on Apr 8, 2009

    Neat story, Chris; has the adrenaline stopped flowing yet?
    We had a redwood “two-holer” when I lived in Big Sur. No porcelain.

  • Rask Balavoine on Apr 8, 2009

    And Belfast had its share of primitive facilities too! We talked about “going to the yard”, but we usually went unaccompanied by ladders, even ghostly ones. Good tale. I’m sure lots if us identify with it.

  • George W Whitehead on Apr 8, 2009

    A wonderful story that brought back many personal memories, CJ. It’s hard to believe in these days of ‘all mod cons’ that I never lived in a house with an indoor toilet (or even a bathroom) until I was 22 years old.

  • clay hurtubise on Apr 8, 2009

    lol, maybe a ghost pushed the ladder!
    Thanks,
    Clay

  • PR Mace on Apr 8, 2009

    Great story. I remember scary outhouses myself,

  • rutherfranc on Apr 8, 2009

    booo! very scary… great build up and description of the place before going to that event..

  • mysticdave on Apr 8, 2009

    cool story, my uncle had his own scary outhouse on his ranch in Wyoming.

  • Mr Ghaz on Apr 9, 2009

    Excellent! well presented and interesting too. Well done and thanks for sharing this great article

  • Betty Carew on Apr 9, 2009

    This is excellent C it brought back memories for me to, we didn’t have an inside toilet until I was about 13 and remember well having to go outside in the dark. We would not have survived without the Sears catalog as tiolet paper back then was more than a luxury. Great read

  • s hayes on Apr 9, 2009

    Ha Ha – wonderful tale – even though there was no ghost !!!!!

    My dad has (and still uses) an outside loo – why he would snub the nice warm one inside beats me!

    I used it once when I was about ten years old – I was unfamiliar with the workings of it and pulled the chain over enthusiastically and the whole porcelain top cistern tank yanked away from the wall and soaked me – never again!!

  • nutuba on Apr 9, 2009

    What a wonderful story! You kept the tension all the way until the very end. Nicely done! I like how you told it, adding bits about grandparents and family trips so that we readers could all feel part of the story. Great job.

  • Lost in Arizona on Apr 9, 2009

    Lol! Ah, I hate outhouses, and anything that resembles those evil monstrocities… lol… my reasons are my own…

  • CutestPrincess on Apr 13, 2009

    awww… scary story… im scared!

  • Ruby Hawk on Apr 14, 2009

    Oh my, how well I remember that fearsome trip to the toilet on a cold winter night. And we talk about the good old days.

  • Bullwinkle Muse on Apr 15, 2009

    Great tale, Chris! At least you were in the right place for meeting a ghost. I know I would have needed to relieve myself at that age. ;^)

  • K Kristie on Apr 18, 2009

    Haha…reminds me of my own childhood ghost stories. Nice share.

  • h20ho on Apr 21, 2009

    Great Article… it\’s about what makes us read what you have written.

  • spiritwalker on Apr 21, 2009

    And boy were those times very entertaining for us children. I am still excited by the tale of a ghost now and then. That was one of the things that made life special for children.

  • Phill Senters on May 12, 2009

    What memories! There were voices in our outhouse in the early 50s. No matter how many times we moved it or built a new one, the voices were always in there.

  • spinderella on Jun 4, 2009

    AY!!! u nawty nawty man! lols great read

  • Katien on Jul 30, 2009

    I was on the edge of my seat – well told.

  • Chris Marlowe II on Aug 14, 2009

    You calling me a Troll, C.? You calling me a Troll?
    Why are you calling me a Troll, C.? I never was in the outside toilet of your grandmother. I never was in her mirror either. Why do you say I will be seen in a mirror if one looks to long in it? Why do you say

  • Lucas Dié on Aug 18, 2009

    LOL – a great story!

  • Peter Cimino on Sep 12, 2009

    what a great story! well done…riveting read.

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