Face Slapped by a Ghost
The following remarkable event occurred to a friend of mine—an elderly, married lady, whom I have known for some time. She is now making her home in Brooklyn, but at the time of her gruesome experience was residing in England. It is some years since this occurred, but the incident, she assured me, lives just as vividly in her mind as though it all happened yesterday. This is her story, just as she told it to me:
“I was staying with some friends in the country. They had an old, rambling house, with long, draughty halls and corridors all over it. As the house was already full of guests, I had to sleep in a large room, at the end of the long passage, on the ground floor. The room in itself was comfortable enough—large and warm. Yet there was an atmosphere about that apartment which I did not quite like; in fact, the whole house made me feel ‘creepy,’ for no reason that I can give.
“Bed-time came all too soon; and I took my candle and was shown my room. My hostess saw that I had everything I needed; and then, saying good-night, went upstairs to bed.
“I had half undressed when I saw the door of my room gently and quietly opened, as though a stealthy hand were softly pressing it open. I gazed transfixed, until, when wide open, I could see that no one was, in reality, on the other side of the door. At that I drew a breath of relief. ‘A draught,’ I thought, ‘coming down the hallway. It is nothing.’ And I chided myself on my fears; shut the door, and proceeded to undress.
“I had not gone far, however, when to my amazement the door opened again; just as quietly and stealthily as before. Again I closed the door, and proceeded with my undressing. I had by this time finished, and had donned my night-gown preparatory to getting into bed.
“At that moment I was horrified to see my door open for the third time, just as it did before—slowly, slowly, until it rested on its hinges, wide open to the hall. I now determined to investigate; so, taking my candle in my hand, I stepped out into the hall and proceeded down towards the front door.
“I had not taken more than three or four steps, however, when the candle in my hands was extinguished—as though a breath of wind, coming from nowhere, had blown it out. I did not much relish this, as the matches were in my room. But I determined to keep on, in the dark, and see what the cause of this could be. So I kept on and on, down the dark hall—my left hand holding the extinguished candle; my right extended so that I could feel the solid masonry all the way down the corridor.
“I had proceeded, perhaps, half way, when a strange thing occurred. I suddenly felt myself slapped on the left cheek by something cold and moist and clammy. I put my hand up to my face, and felt it was wet. For an instant I hesitated; then I proceeded, down the hall, until I came to the front door. That I found closed and locked. Having thus explored the whole length of the hall and found nothing, I turned back to regain my room. Still holding the candle in my left hand, and still feeling the wall with my outstretched right hand, I crept cautiously along, not knowing what to expect.
“Again, I had proceeded about half way down the hall when I felt the same cold, quick slap in the face (this time on the right cheek) and again I found it was wet.
“Thoroughly frightened now, I fled to my room as fast as my legs could carry me. Once within, I closed and secured the door by placing a chair against it. Next, finding my box of matches, I relighted my candle. Then I surveyed myself in the mirror, to see what could be upon my face.
“Imagine my horror when, on looking in the glass, I discovered two long streaks of blood, one upon either cheek! I was so terror-struck that I gazed at myself for a few moments unable to move or speak. Then I screamed, and after that I have no very clear recollection of what happened. I have a hazy recollection of anxious faces bending over me; of a low hum of voices; then oblivion.
“It took me many weeks to recover from the shock of that night.”