Today, I worked at my city’s most haunted library. It’s located in the old Washington village some way out of town, in a house which was converted into a library quite a few years ago. It’s literally just a few yards from Washington Old Hall (see above), the ancestral home of the family of George Washington (yes, that George Washington), and also just over the road from a rather resplendent church.
I’ve heard so many stories about this tiny library before that it was not without a little amount of morbid curiosity that I went to work this morning. Last summer, someone swore to me that she had been on her own upstairs in the non-fiction section when she heard the floorboards creak; as if someone was walking over them. Then, she heard a loud metallic ring, as if someone was dragging something along the length of the cast iron radiator. Of course, there was no one there.
Apparently, a medium visited the building a while back and said that she had sensed an old man, sitting on a chair in the office. Another colleague even swears he was tapped on the shoulder from behind, and turned to see no one there. This phantom is allegedly the ghost of a man who worked in local studies, and which has also on occasion graced the local pub two doors up. Most of this was related to me by my co-worker, who happily told me that she herself had not seen a ghost, but admitted that ‘it does feel spooky up there sometimes’.