I remember when my parents and I stayed at the caretaker’s house that belongs to the manor back when I was a kid. I was scared to death each night, because there are so many ghost stories surrounding this manor that I was sure they were real – each and every one of them. Ghost riders, unexplained blood stains that cannot go away, mysterious moans and people walking around at night etc. Today, I consider them rather fascinating, and I enjoy telling them to my friends if I have them home visiting my parents with me.
My favourite story is the one about the maid that had given birth to the lord’s bastard child, which she was forced to drown in the moat. She ended up hanging herself afterwards out of despair. Now, it is said that whenever there is a party held in the basement of the manor (and there are many), the guests see a scary woman walk around outside, staring wildly through the windows. It is said to be the ghost of the maid looking for her lost child.
Even writing that paragraph grave me goose bumps. Apparently, I am still slightly affected by the old stories.