The Hauntings of Charlton House

I've never been a big fan of paranormal investigation shows on TV. Don't get me wrong, I love a good ghost story, but I find it difficult to believe that all these shows are genuine. Moreover, making loud noises or shouting to provoke a response from the spirits is not an ethical way of making contact.

Yet, The live paranormal event I attended on a Samhain night at Charlton House held a few unexpected twists. 

A View of Charlton House

Some Historical Notes

Charlton House is located in the borough of Greenwich in south-east London and has a complex history. Sir Adam Newton commissioned the construction of the house in the early 17th century. Over the centuries, Charlton House has undergone many changes. In the English Civil War, the house served as a prisoner-of-war camp, where the Parliamentarian forces held Royalist soldiers captive in its cellars. In the 18th century, the Maryon-Wilson family acquired the place. The Wilsons were involved in colonial activities and owned plantations in Jamaica. They exploited enslaved Africans to obtain the Jamaican mahogany used for its grand staircase, which was a popular material for furniture in that era. The gardens of Charlton House also reflect the colonial influence, with plants and trees brought back from colonial territories. The Wilsons frequently threw extravagant parties at their home, which notable guests, including members of the Royal Family, often attended. Legend has it that the Wilsons allowed exotic animals to roam freely around the house, creating an unusual and somewhat dangerous environment. During the First World War, Charlton House served as a military hospital, providing care for wounded soldiers.

The Investigation

We got off at the Charlton bus stop on a dark and rainy evening.

We arrived early for our 7:00 pm appointment and decided to take a walk to kill the time. After all, the house was just a short distance away from the bus stop. As we strolled, we noticed a fox on our left. The animal, a spirit of the place, was chewing on a bone near a residential complex. We paused briefly to acknowledge the creature and pay our respects to it. Our observation was abruptly interrupted by the sudden roar of motorbikes. A group of motorcyclists rode past us, their noise filling the air. They reminded me of a contemporary wild hunt, tearing through the night on their infernal machines.

We crossed the street and reached the entrance of the building, where the event's organisers let us in.

Upon entering the house, the hosts instructed us to head to the library, which appeared to have enough chairs for at least fifty people. The organisers were volunteers from the facility and hosts of a well-known British paranormal TV show I was unfamiliar with. They briefly explained the house's layered history, recounting some of the eerie experiences that volunteers had reported during their working shifts in various areas of the house.

The Library

"There are at least three highly active locations here," announced one of the volunteers, a young woman in her twenties. "The long hall, the attic, and the cellars. We are going to divide you into five groups. We will take turns exploring each location." She pointed to a desk behind her filled with equipment for paranormal investigation. "If you haven't brought your own, you'll find everything you need here," she said.

People rushed to the table. They left almost nothing behind, like locusts on a field. Fortunately, we had already purchased an EMF meter for the occasion. We followed the leader of our group to the first room.

The Long Hall

We ascended the stairs, passing through several unlit rooms. The long hallway was situated at the far end of the building and intentionally kept in darkness. The hallway was almost entirely made of wood, with only a table on the left and no other furniture. Adorned with a line of windows, it had an unused fireplace. A bucket placed in the fireplace collected water dripping from an unknown source. As I stood there, silence descended, but the sound of water droplets falling into the bucket created a hypnotic rhythm, drawing my attention.

"Take a seat if you dare," said the host, pointing to an Ouija board on the table. "Are there any volunteers?" he taunted us.

Marco and I exchanged a nervous glance before placing our hands on a glass, our makeshift planchette. Others soon joined in, and we all waited in anticipation, trembling at what might have happened.

Ouija Session at Charlton House

"Rub your hands against each other. Let's generate some energy," instructed the organiser. "And don't be disappointed if nothing happens."

Nothing happened, indeed. As we were about to leave the room, we decided to try one last attempt at making contact. We formed a circle, and a woman volunteered to stand in the centre, acting as our human pendulum. The organiser posed questions, and if the woman leaned forward, it indicated a "yes," while a backward lean signified a "no."

The sound of water droplets continued to distract me, whispering from a distance. Yet no one paid attention, focused on obtaining a conventional contact. Our attempt with the human pendulum was successful this time. We managed to summon Daniel, a young boy who worked as a servant. He wanted to greet us. The water droplets became noticeably heavier. I looked around and wondered how no one else seemed to notice. We then left the room and returned to the library.

The Attic

We gathered again, this time led by a woman who directed us to the attic. The cold and gloomy spaces struck me. I couldn't help but think of the many servants of the family who, with no resources or advocates, were left to shiver in the small rooms that were once their only refuge.

A Servants’ Room

"Volunteers have reported seeing a grey lady up here," said the woman, "dressed in a Victorian gown and bearing keys."

 We were led into a small room illuminated by a red light. A table sat at the centre of the room, with a black mirror and two chairs facing each other. "Victorians believed that red light could facilitate contact," explained the woman, "and used the black mirror as a scrying device." 

"I need two volunteers to sit facing each other and look in the mirror. Tell us what you see." She concluded. 

A shy couple volunteered to take part in the experiment. I could read the sheer terror on their faces. There was silence in the room as the two awkwardly stared at each other. After the long hall, everyone was eager for any contact. People fumbled to bring out their paranormal gear, looking into screens, throwing light balls on the ground, swinging pendulums, anything to catch a glimpse of the grey lady. 

The only information that came through was a name: Mary.

Contacting the Grey Lady

"Mary, if you're here, make your presence known to us," declared the woman. 

A ball, which activates only through motion, lit up at the end of the attic corridor. Everyone's eyes darted in that direction. 

"That's fantastic, Mary!" exclaimed the woman. "Now that we know you're here, could you make a noise?" 

Soon after, another device that activates only through motion made a loud noise, like an alarm bell ringing. Everyone gasped. I sensed the presence of something or someone, but they appeared confused, like a frightened animal hesitant to move.

Two devices activating at the end of the corridor

The woman looked at her watch. "It's time to head downstairs now," she said. "Let's leave quietly." 

We went to the library to gather before moving on to the final location of the night.

The Cellar

A third volunteer joined us as we descended into the cellars, where aid awaited the wounded soldiers. The atmosphere was laden with humidity. "Danger to life", declared a yellow tag, indicating the presence of a lethal fungus identified in the basement. Instantly, a heightened sense of fear enveloped everyone, surpassing any apprehension previously reserved for supernatural entities. We gathered in a circle within a narrow corridor, its walls adorned with white paint.

The Cellar

Attempting the Ouija board once more, we connected with an American soldier. He wasn't ensnared in anguish; instead, he yearned to share his narrative. He recounted his engagement before the outbreak of World War I and the poignant tale of never returning to his fiancée. 

"We're now employing the necrophonic," declared the volunteer, a middle-aged woman. "It functions like a radio app, jumping between stations. By posing questions, we may obtain additional information about our soldier," she concluded.

She positioned her tablet with the open necrophonic app on the ground, and it commenced jumping from one station to another. Despite our rounds of questioning, the session yielded little information. 

Necrophonic App

Heading to the library for the final time, we gathered our bags and exited the event.

Final Thoughts 

As we strolled towards the bus stop, I reflected on the contact we had established. The number of people present hindered any in-depth communication. While contact was presumed to be attained through physical tools, silence and stillness are the most effective instruments for conversing with a ghost or spirit.

Frequently, individuals believe that establishing contact with an entity necessitates additions like a gleaming new EMF meter, a collection of candles, or a crystal ball. In truth, to connect with something, one must eliminate the ceaseless thoughts swirling in our minds, the inner chatter, and attune to the voices beyond the silence.

The echoes of the past, present, and future at Charlton House resonated strongly that night despite our occasional clumsy attempts. The powerful, the wealthy, the poor, the exploited, and the horrors of war all find refuge at Charlton House—a silent chamber of hopes and dreams now hidden in plain darkness.