Derek Acorah: Extreme Psychic

We all rushed over to him and sure enough, there on his left cheek was a small round burn mark. Everyone went very quiet. I remembered the previous evening and the loud bang which had resulted in the indentation of my wardrobe door. I was positive that there was a negative spirit presence in the room and I was determined, come what may, to get to the bottom of the matter.

Needless to say, not much sleeping went on in the room that night as we all sat up talking about what had happened. I did not like to air my own views on the matter to my bedroom companions. I was just 19 and was afraid that the lads I was with would make fun of me if I started talking in depth about spirit activity.

The following morning I tentatively asked Mrs Marsden whether any strange things had ever happened in the room in which my friends and I were staying. She looked at me long and hard and asked why I would ask such a question. I told her that there had been a couple of disturbing incidents over the previous two nights.

‘Oh dear!’ was her surprising response. ‘So it’s started up again, has it?’

She told me that many years ago the old house had been used as a hospital for soldiers recovering from injuries and exposure to gas sustained whilst fighting in the trenches during World War I. Many of these men were driven almost mad with the pain of their horrific injuries and amputations. There was a story that she had heard about a man, George Adams, who had suffered terrible burns. He used to lash out in his pain and later, as he slowly recovered, became terrified of fire. The mere thought of anybody putting him in danger by smoking in bed had driven him almost insane with anger and he would attack any poor unfortunate soldier who happened to light up a comforting cigarette anywhere around him. He had actually succumbed to his lung injuries at the old house. For many years after his passing there had been reports that his spirit was wandering around the old house, making his presence felt by banging around on locker doors, and anybody smoking in bed made him very angry.

‘I don’t know how true the story is,’ Mrs Marsden commented, ‘but I believe in these things and I suspect you do too, young man.’

I nodded, though again I was unwilling to share my experiences and my grandmother’s predictions.

That night we all went to bed after another busy day. Although we lay awake for a while listening and waiting for something to happen, nothing did and we awoke the following morning refreshed after a good night’s sleep.

The matter regarding George Adams was still lying heavy on my mind, though. I decided that when night fell and we had all retired to bed I would quietly attempt to communicate with him to try and persuade him to join his loved ones in his rightful place in the world of sprit. I had spent many long hours talking to my grandmother and she had explained to me that sometimes people pass away from this world but, for different reasons, do not pass immediately to the heavenly state. She told me that it was up to people like herself, and indeed me, to help them seek the light by praying and asking their family and guardian angels to come for them and show them the way to their heavenly home.

After another pleasant day and an evening at the cinema watching Dr Zhivago, Vinny, Frank and I returned to the hostel. We had a late supper and then retired to bed at around midnight.

We had been asleep for a while when I was wakened by what sounded like thunder. I switched on my bedside lamp and looked at my watch. It was 3.45 a.m. The noise continued, though strangely it began to sound as though it was coming from the walls of the room. Suddenly there was a very loud scraping noise, as though somebody was dragging something over the tiled floor. Just as the other lads in the room woke up and switched on their lights, I saw the dark shadow of a man cross the room.

The others had had enough. ‘Come on, Derek!’ they shouted as they all hurriedly dressed and ran off down the corridor, I assumed to the communal room.

‘I’m coming!’ I shouted after them. I had no intention of joining them, however, until I had found out exactly what was going on.

With the room empty I felt free to attempt to communicate with whoever was there. ‘Who are you?’ I shouted out into the atmosphere. ‘Why are you here? Let me see you!’

After I had shouted out my questions once more, the spirit form of a man built up before me. I could see quite clearly the horrible burn injuries to his face. I sensed a great anger with him and I quaked with fear at my audacity in thinking that I could take on such tangible negative energy on my own. I prayed fervently to my guides to help me. I knew that they would surround me and safeguard me, but that did not stop the real fear I was experiencing.

Then suddenly I realized – or was inspired to realize – that the man’s anger was not directed towards me personally. He was in fact hurt and afraid. These feelings manifested as anger about his situation. In reality this man did not realize that he had experienced physical death. He thought that he was still living his life here on Earth and was angry and frustrated because he thought that people were ignoring him because of his horrible disfigurement. Added to this was his fear of fires and being burned again.

‘But I can see you,’ I almost pleaded with him. He stopped and looked at me. As calmly as I could I spoke out into the ether. I told him that he must seek the light, that he must make his way to the heavenly state, that he must ignore for a while the living and must follow the bright being who frequently beckoned to him. I told him that it was right and proper that he should make that pleasant journey and live a trouble-free existence with his heavenly family, free from care and pain.

With that I closed my eyes and prayed fervently for him. I called upon his guides and the help of his guardians and family in the heavenly state to guide his footsteps. I also asked my own guides and inspirers to add their strength to my prayers and assist this poor demented soul on his journey.

The atmosphere began to lighten and after a few minutes I knew that George’s transition had finally taken place. The room held a feeling of peace and calm – a feeling that it had never had before.

I felt drained. I slowly left the room and went to join my friends in the communal room. ‘Everything’s quiet now,’ I told them. ‘Why don’t you come back to bed?’ Reluctantly, they agreed that they would do just that.

We all had a peaceful night’s sleep and for the rest of our stay we were undisturbed.

On our journey home Vinny, Frank and I discussed the events that had taken place. They asked what had happened in the room when I had been in there on my own and I decided to tell them.

They both looked at me strangely before saying in unison, ‘You’re weird! But we like you!’

We all laughed and the matter was forgotten – at least by them. For me it was just a taste of many more scary situations to come, and on some occasions even my life would be put at risk.

CHAPTER TWO

Horror in my Home Town

My home city of Liverpool is rich in stories of haunted houses and ghostly events. It has seen more than its fair share of events, being not only one of the UK’s major cities but also once one of England’s most important seaports. During the years when I had an office in the city centre, I was often asked about events taking place in people’s homes. If I felt that I could help these people I usually did, and on most occasions it was discovered that the slight disturbances being experienced were the work of people from the spirit world who were in visitation to family members merely to let them know they were around. Occasionally the spirit people would be attempting to warn their loved ones of a wrong decision about to be made or an event about to take place that might cause concern to the family. More often than not, by opening up to the emanations surrounding the querant I could provide answers to their questions via the good offices of Sam. There was one occasion, however, when I felt that a visit to the person’s house was in order, as I could pick nothing up in the aura of the young woman concerned that would explain the events she described taking place in her home.

The houses around the Great Georges Street area of Liverpool are large. They were once the homes of the well-to-do and the area was considered highly respectable. Maria lived just around the corner from Great Georges Street in one such house that had been converted into apartments. She had moved into the ground-floor apartment with her husband and her two children – boys aged three and five – approximately six months earlier.

Maria told me that from the time that she and her family had moved into their home she had never felt particularly settled. For some reason she had always felt worried about her children and did not like to leave them alone in any room on their own. Even when they were in bed she felt the urge to keep checking on them to make sure that they were safe, even though she knew that no harm could possibly come to them. Her husband, she told me, was becoming more than a little irritated by her constant checking and nervousness about their two sons, especially as she now refused to go out without them, which had effectively brought to an end the Saturday nights out that they used to enjoy while their sons were in the care of a babysitter. It had reached the point where Maria’s nervousness was having a detrimental effect on her marriage. A further house move was out of the question because Maria’s husband could find nothing wrong with their home and it had the added bonus of being close to his work in a nearby restaurant. With late working hours, it was simple for him to walk the short distance home rather than have to get a cab.

‘Joe thinks it’s all rubbish and imaginings,’ Maria explained to me, ‘and it’s true that there’s nothing tangible there. Nothing has happened – yet! I feel, though, that before too long things may start to happen and I’m afraid for my two boys.’

I could see that Maria was truly frightened. I could tell that she was a very sensitive soul and was obviously picking up something from the atmosphere of the house in which she lived. I decided that the only way to get any answers for her was to actually visit her home to see what I could find out.

On the appointed day I arrived outside the large old house. As I stood on the doorstep waiting for Maria to answer the bell, I felt a sense of unease overcome me. Just standing there, before I had even entered the house, I knew that something sinister had taken place within the four walls. In spite of obvious renovation over the years, there still remained the ominous presence of death.

As I heard footsteps approaching the front door I whispered a prayer of protection and asked Sam to draw close to me. Almost immediately I felt his reassuring presence and heard his quiet voice reply, ‘I’m here, Derek.’

Maria opened the door. As she did so, immediately the feelings that had assailed my senses grew tenfold. I was whisked back in time to the mid-Victorian era. The white painted hallway faded and was replaced by a much darker decoration – brown paint and dark woodwork. The carpeted floor was replaced by a tiled floor with a chequered pattern. Horrifyingly, on the floor lay the body of a woman, horribly butchered – her blood was splattered up the walls and pooled across the floor.

I was snapped back to the present day by Maria’s greeting: ‘Hello, Derek. Welcome! Do come in.’

I walked into a long passageway with various doors leading off it. These I presumed led to the other rooms in the building. Maria led me along the hallway to the rear of the house and invited me into the kitchen, which looked out onto a relatively small yard area. She introduced me to her friend Val, whom she had invited along for moral support.

Once more, when entering the room, I was taken back in time clairvoyantly. The bright paintwork and stainless steel kitchen equipment had been replaced by a dismal-looking room containing a copper boiler and a huge stone sink. Once upon a time this room had been a scullery of sorts, where laundering of the family’s clothes and linen had taken place. Again, the whole place was smeared with blood – it lay in pools on the floor and was smeared on the walls. I looked down and it was even more horrifying – there was the body of a small boy, his head almost severed. Next to him lay a long-bladed knife.

Desperately I fought the feeling of nausea that threatened to overcome me and tried to bring myself back to the present day. The horrific scene began to dissipate and once more I was back in the pleasant, bright modern-day kitchen. I accepted the cup of coffee that Maria was offering me.

I was definitely beginning to understand why a sensitive person such as Maria was finding it difficult living in what should have been a very nice and comfortable home. I asked her where her children were. She told me that she had dropped them off earlier at her mother’s home. I was more than pleased to hear that the two lads were safe and away from what could turn out to be a rather difficult situation.

I felt that I would need the concentration and energy of both Maria and Val on this occasion. When we had finished our coffee I asked whether I could go back down the hallway and into the room at the front of the apartment and which looked out over the street.

Maria and Val accompanied me. On opening the door to what was a pleasant and comfortable lounge, again I was whooshed back in time to a room heavy with dark Victoria decoration, gas mantles and solid furniture. Once more my clairvoyant eye took in the horrifying spectacle of murder and carnage. A girl lay bleeding profusely on the floor. Close by the body of another boy – a little older than the one in the kitchen – lay slumped by the ornate fireplace. My ears rang with the screams and cries of the four victims who had passed on to the world of spirit so horrifically more than 100 years earlier. I was sickened by the sound of a knife hacking and slashing through flesh and bone. The acrid smell of blood hung heavy in the air.

Up to this point in time I had merely viewed the horrific aftermath of a mass murder, the emanations of which hung in the atmosphere due, I knew, to the regular spirit return of the perpetrator of the horrendous crime. After a few moments of standing in the room opening myself up further to the terrible emanations I began to detect a spirit presence. A young man began to emerge from the ether. He was not tall – around 5 feet, 6 inches – and was of stocky build. His dark hair, though covered by a hat, hung down the sides of his face and he wore a dark coat with light-coloured trousers. He had a wild expression upon his face and his hands hung down limply by his sides. They were covered in the blood of his victims.

I sensed an evil in the spirit of the man standing before me – an evil combined with a complete lack of feeling for anything or anybody. When on the Earth plane, he had been a deranged soul willing to do anything to earn himself a few shillings. I had the impression that he had once been connected in some way to the sea. I felt that somehow he had inveigled himself into this house and had dispatched the occupants with no more feeling or compassion than one would have in swatting a fly.

I prayed once more silently to Sam. Again I heard him whisper close by me, ‘I’m here.’

I knew that I had to rid the home of the evil the spirit man had brought with him. Sam’s voice told me, ‘He did not escape man’s justice – he was hanged for his crimes. He is John – John Wilson. Now he needs to face spiritual justice so that he can progress and find his proper place in the spirit world.’

I had not come equipped to perform a candle rite to clear the atmosphere of a spirit’s presence, as I had not dreamed that I would require such radical action when I had set out that morning. I hoped that Maria would be able to help. I could see from the surroundings that she had a number of candles.

In order not to unduly frighten the two young women I quietly asked Maria whether she could help by providing a white cloth, two bowls – one filled with salt and one with water – and seven candles – three green and four white. I was relieved when she said that she could. She left the room.

John was still standing watching me, his eyes flickering to the left and the right, with a sneering expression on his face. ‘You won’t get rid of me, Derek Acorah!’ he stated in a contemptuous voice. ‘I like it here! Two more nice little boys! Oh, how the knife slices so easily through soft young flesh!’

I was sickened by his statement. I remembered Maria’s two young sons and realized that the two murdered children would have been around the same age.

‘Henry and Alfred had such sweet young flesh,’ I heard John say. He gave an evil cackle. ‘I have the power of the master behind me!’

‘Not for very much longer,’ I thought to myself. I realized now that John Wilson assumed he was in league with the devil. Didn’t he realize that no such person or creature existed – that ‘the devil’ was merely man’s personification of all things evil?

I heard Maria returning from the kitchen. Val opened the door for her and she carried in a tray with the two small bowls of salt and water, a white cloth and the seven candles on it.

John Wilson viewed the contents of the tray with interest. His horrible laughter once more echoed around the room.

I cleared the coffee table in the middle of the room, reached for the white cloth and put it on it. John’s eyes narrowed as he watched me. He moved a little nearer to where I was standing.

Next I reached into the bowls and sprinkled the cloth first with a little of the salt and then with some water. At that a great whoosh of energy sent the cloth flying from the table and onto the floor. I bent down to pick it up and replace it once more upon the table. Then there was another surge of energy and I felt the not insignificant presence of John Wilson all around me, trying to overshadow and overpower me. My breath felt as though it had been sucked from my lungs and I struggled to breathe. I could not under any circumstances allow myself to lose consciousness – it was imperative that I remained aware and did not lose control.

‘Put the cloth on the table,’ I struggled to tell the terrified women. ‘Place the bowls on the cloth and line up the candles – green at the front and white behind.’

I felt as though I was being pummelled repeatedly by unseen fists and prayed to Sam and my guardians to help me. I knew that they were there empowering me.

‘Light the candles,’ I almost screamed to Maria, ‘and pray – say the Lord’s Prayer – anything!’

‘Our Father who art in heaven …’ I heard the women begin the familiar words. I joined my voice to theirs, though it was little more than a croak. Then I reached out and grabbed Val’s hand. As I did so, I felt the energy that was attempting to overpower me relinquish its hold a little.

I stretched out and took Maria’s hand. ‘Hold hands! Hold hands and continue!’ I instructed, by now feeling more in control of the situation.

As Maria and Val repeated the hallowed words I prayed fervently for peace to be brought to this home and for the spirit of John Wilson to be taken to the place where he could commence his journey to redemption for his sins against innocent people. Slowly, slowly, I felt his spirit power weaken and eventually fail as the energies of goodness overcame him and he was led by his own guides to the place where he could begin the long process of atoning for his sins.

The flames of the candles flickered. We continued our prayers. Finally, a wonderful peace and calm pervaded the atmosphere. I knew my work was done.

I looked at Maria and Val. They were standing with their eyes tight shut, still holding hands. ‘Do you feel anything?’ I asked them.

Visibly relaxing, they opened their eyes and looked around. ‘I feel warmth and lightness,’ said Maria. ‘It’s something I’ve never felt here before.’

‘The spirit influence causing your problems has gone now,’ I explained. ‘He was a vicious and unhappy soul who once had a connection with this home.’

I did not want to frighten Maria by giving her the details of mass murder that I had witnessed. It was sufficient that she now felt happier and at peace in her home.

After that Maria would occasionally drop by my office in Liverpool to say hello. The problems that she had experienced during the first six months of occupation of her home never returned. I do not know where she is now, whether she is still in that apartment or not, but I am sure that her life since that day has been a happy and progressive one.

CHAPTER THREE

The Condemned Man

Many are the letters I receive from people all over the world telling me of their experiences in connection with the paranormal. It is impossible for me to respond personally to the many letters and e-mails, but I do my best to read them all. Occasionally, if I feel that I can help and if my busy schedule permits, I will contact the person who has written to me and attempt to help them.

One such letter came to me from Anne. Her husband Harry owned a small shop where he sold small electrical goods and hardware just outside Manchester in the Atherton area. Harry had run the shop for many years and in fact had inherited the business from his father.

Anne had included her telephone number in her letter and so I decided that I would contact her. She expanded on what she had briefly outlined in her letter to me – that she and Harry had experienced no problems whatsoever during the years that they had run the shop until one day a friend of hers had asked whether she and some friends could conduct a ‘ghost hunt’ in the old cellars. The friend, together with four other people, including one who purported to be a ‘medium’, had spent the night in the cellar.

Anne had been surprised when her friend had regaled her the following day with stories of evil entities and items being thrown around. The friend had even claimed that she had been pushed down the cellar steps.

Neither Anne nor Harry could ever recall experiencing anything untoward in any part of the shop premises. The cellars, although rather cold, had never caused them concern when venturing down there. In fact, they used them as storage space for stock. Consequently, they were frequently up and down the cellar steps, and neither had ever been pushed.

Since the night of the ‘ghost hunt’, however, both had noticed that the stock in the cellar was being moved around on a regular basis. Once or twice it had looked as though items had been thrown, resulting in some breakages – not something that a small business can afford. The atmosphere in the cellar, and indeed the shop itself, had also changed.

I asked Anne whether she knew what her friend and the group of people had done in the cellar.

‘Well, I know that they held a séance,’ she replied.

I suspected that I now knew what had happened. Anne’s friends had tried to emulate what is frequently seen on paranormal programming these days. They had undoubtedly had sat in a circle and attempted to invoke the spirit world. Unfortunately, they had more than likely done this without taking the necessary precaution of requesting protection for themselves and their surroundings, and they would definitely not have cleared the atmosphere before they left, consequently leaving a portal open and giving any malevolent spirit who wished to enter the cellar a perfect doorway. I doubted very much that the so-called ‘medium’ had any mediumistic abilities whatsoever. If they had, they would have ensured that complete closure had been achieved before the property had been vacated.