Dragged

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Story 1:

The Charter House Guest.

The English county of Somerset possesses a rich and colorful history that is steeped with tales of myth and legend.

It has been the scene of many a mysterious and unexplained occurrence, one of which is known as the Charterhouse Guest.

Rolling their way through the verdant Somerset countryside, the Mendip Hills run all the way from the eastern side of the county across to the west.

These imposing limestone features look down onto both the Somerset Levels and the iconic Cheddar Gorge, exhibiting some of the highest geographic points in the region.

But beneath their seemingly impenetrable exterior lies a honeycomb of tunnels and caves that conversely provide the lowest depths recorded in southern England.

It is said that this labyrinthine network of passageways is home to numerous mystical and supernatural entities.

Some believe that the hills are the final resting place of King Arthur, who lies concealed in an underground chamber, watched over by the faithful Merlin.

One ancient story describes the caves as being home to a pair of fearsome medieval giants, whilst others tell the legend of Roman soldiers who ventured beneath the surface, never to be seen again.

Having crossed the English Channel and established a foothold in Britain, the men of Claudius' legions expanded outwards, forging transport links and establishing settlements as they progressed.

The remains of an ancient road, constructed by Roman engineers, still traverses the Mendips, leading to the tiny hamlet of Charterhouse.

There had been people living at Charterhouse since the Bronze Age, but it was the occupying legionaries who first discovered the substantial deposits of lead and silver lying deep in the caves of the Mendip Hills.

A small hill fort was built, which afforded the Romans protection of their assets, and the area is still visibly pockmarked and scarred by the work they carried out.

After the vanquished Roman legions retreated to mainland Europe, mining continued throughout the centuries that followed, claiming the lives of many young people, until the process was finally abandoned at the end of the Second World War.

All that remains now are a few residential premises and an educational centre, which provides outdoor pursuits for local schoolchildren.

The center also acts as an operating base for the local search and rescue team, who venture forth to assist hikers and climbers who find themselves in distress.

Many visitors to the centre over the years have reported strange encounters, similar in nature to stories that are found in other parts of this mysterious region.

On a cold and rainy February weekend in 1982, 15 pupils from a secondary school in nearby Bridgewater arrived at the Charterhouse Centre in order to participate in a hiking expedition across the Mendips.

The youngsters divided themselves up into three teams of five and then set out on foot from the education facility at intervals, each group accompanied by an escorting teacher.

The fourth teacher accompanying the trip, Richard Gardner, took the school's minibus on a head to a pre-arranged point along the planned route and then waited to check on the welfare of the children as they passed by.

The first two parties arrived in good order, but when the third group of hikers approached, it was apparent that one of the girls had managed to become separated from her classmates, for she was nowhere to be seen.

The teacher who had been acting as this group's escort headed back out into the driving rain in order to retrace their steps and hopefully encounter the missing pupil.

In the meantime, the other four children sought warmth and shelter in the minibus.

Richard took this opportunity to drive back up to the centre and check if the girl had headed back there after realising she was lost.

However, when he parked up next to the building, she was still nowhere to be found, and so he decided to conduct a wider search of the nearby picnic areas and rest stops.

One of these sites was a small collection of old mine workings and open pit shafts called Velvet Bottom, which had been named after the tufty and uneven nature of the ground it was located upon.

Other than an aging scout hut and a few dilapidated wooden picnic tables, there was little else to be found there, but Richard figured it was as likely a place to find the missing girl as any other.

After parking up nearby, he gave three blasts on the horn and then wound down the driver's side window to listen for any reply.

As he strained to hear anything above the incessant hammering of the rain on the roof of the bus, he could have sworn he heard what sounded like children's laughter coming from the direction of the nearby scout hut.

The old building itself was clearly locked and secured, but as he continued to listen, Richard could again hear the sounds of boys and girls happily playing together out in the rainfall.

Thinking that his lost student may have encountered these local youths, Richard advised the school children to stay put and then set out towards the scout hut.

As he slowly trudged through the sucking sucking mud towards the isolated property, the happy sounds of clay fighting and laughter seemed to increase in volume, apparently emanating from behind the building.

Moments later when he eventually rounded the corner of the hut, the voices abruptly ceased, and to his utter surprise, there was no one there.

The schoolteacher looked all around him in confusion, but there was nothing and nobody to be seen.

Bewildered, he turned to head back up to the bus, when a piercing shriek of childlike hilarity hilarity made his heart skip a beat.

The cry of laughter had come from somewhere behind him, but when Richard again looked around the picnic area, there was nothing.

There was a tall thicket of trees located about 50 meters from where he was standing, and he now assumed that this was where the laughing was coming from.

Filled with a growing sense of unease and foreboding, he turned on his heel and started to walk slowly and deliberately towards the darkness of the tree line.

He peered intently through the pouring rain into the gloomy shadows that separated the thick tree trunks, but could detect no movement.

He was less than halfway towards the thicket when the smothering stillness of the scene was again punctured by a ripple of childish cackling and jeering.

Richard didn't even have to look to know that the laughter had come from the direction of the scout hut, which was now behind him.

Filled with frustration, He spun around and jogged through the mud towards the structure, throwing himself around the corner, but again saw nothing.

He became frustrated, convinced someone was enjoying themselves at his expense, and decided he'd had enough.

As he stalked aggressively back towards the minibus, loud and incessant laughter immediately erupted from the direction of the tree line and the scout hut.

He could hear boys and girls chortling to themselves, seemingly from all around the rest area.

He turned sharply, and once again, the noises ceased.

Richard hurried back to the minibus, jumping into the driver's seat and instinctively locked the door as it closed behind him.

One look at the terrified faces of his four students answered any question over his sanity.

They had heard it too.

He quickly started the engine and drove straight back to the rendezvous point, where he found his colleague sheltering from the rain under a nearby tree, along with the missing girl.

The rest of the day's activities passed by without incident, and when the hikers returned to the Charterhouse Centre that evening, they found that the warden had come up to check on them.

He was a kindly local man by the name of Terry Birch, and he sat and chatted affably to them at length.

Eventually, after the children had settled into the dormitory for the night, Richard decided to ask Terry about the laughter he had heard earlier in the day, as he was still perturbed by what had taken place.

When he asked the warden if there were any young children living in the hamlet's nearby residences, a haunted look washed over the older man's face.

Terry explained that he had been warden at the facility for a good many years now, and that Richard was not the first person to have reported hearing the voices of phantom children upon the heights.

But it was Terry's own personal, unexplained encounter at the site, rather than his own, that would cause the young teacher to lose some sleep that evening.

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As well as his general warden duties at the center, One of Terry's additional tasks was to head up to the remote building ahead of each holiday season and to check that all the the stored mountain rescue equipment was clean and in working order in case of an emergency.

As a former Royal Marine Commando, Terry was more than comfortable with his own company and would stay on site overnight during these sessions rather than risk worrying his wife by trying to drive back down the treacherous roads through the darkness.

Roughly a year prior to Richard's own ghostly encounter, Following a long afternoon of charging torch batteries and scrubbing waterproof clothing, Terry had finished watching the evening news, before making making his way upstairs to the centre's sick bay to get some sleep.

Preferring the cot that was situated in the corner of the first floor treatment room to the cold and drafty dormitory, he had checked that all the ground floor doors and windows were secure before bedding down for the night.

Terry was awoken sometime later by the sounds of movement in the darkness outside.

As he lay still in the cot, he could clearly hear something making its way through the undergrowth at the rear of the building, following the line of the perimeter.

Believing the visitor to be an inquisitive badger or fox, he dismissed the sounds, only to hear them again a few minutes later, this time much closer.

Instead of the rustling of dead leaves and foliage, he could now hear the persistent clattering of claws on the centre's wooden floorboards downstairs.

Whatever had been moving around outside had now somehow found its way inside the premises.

At first, the ex-serviceman was confused, and then a little annoyed.

He had personally checked that all of the downstairs entry points were locked and secured before retiring for the evening, so how the creature had managed to gain entry was puzzling to him.

Still, he resolved that if it had found its way in, it could find its way back out again.

He was far too tired and comfortable to get out of bed and spend another hour chasing an animal trying to usher it out of the building.

He furtively glanced across to the locked door of the sick bay and tried to get himself back off to sleep.

But the sounds of movement did not stop and only continued to get louder.

After a time, he began to hear a faint thudding sound, which gradually began to draw closer and closer.

The nocturnal intruder was climbing slowly and deliberately up the centre's staircase before it came snuffling and scratching at the sick bay door.

Recounting his story, Terry did not know why he chose to remain in bed.

He was still hopeful that the curious animal would lose interest and leave the premises of its own accord, but unfortunately, that would not be the case.

As he lay there, he heard the wooden door creak in protest as it was nudged inwards from outside, but the lock held and it remained stubbornly closed.

For a moment there was silence, and then came another sound, terrifying in its nature.

Terry would relate to Richard how he was frozen in horror, not daring to look as he heard what he could only describe as the sound a stiff brush brush would make if rubbed slowly against a polished surface.

Something was sliding under the door.

The space between the door and the floorboards could only have been half an inch wide at most, but whatever this creature was, it was managing to push itself through the tiny gap.

The dragging noise gradually stopped, and an uncomfortable silence descended on the room.

Terry lay in the cot, staring at the wall next to him, his back to the door.

As he slowly and deliberately turned over to look at what was behind him, he caught sight of an indistinguishable black shape, barely visible in the darkness of the room.

Suddenly the small bed was rocked by a violent impact, and he felt claws and teeth connecting with his feet and legs.

With an angry and desperate scream, which he directed towards the unknown creature, Terry kicked out wildly, feeling his repeated blows connecting with the unknown shape that jerked and recoiled from each impact.

There was a high-pitched shriek, unlike anything he had ever heard before, and then the sounds of frenzied scuttling and scrabbling as something ran across the room away from where he was lying.

The door crashed on its hinges as the darkened shape hit it at full force, but it held.

There was more scrabbling and sliding before the sounds retreated back along the corridor and off down the stairs.

Terry shot out of bed and switched on the light.

Inspecting the room, he found his nightbag upended in the middle of the floor, his clothing strewn everywhere.

There were fresh scratches and scuff marks along the side of the bed, and in his desperate struggle to foil the creature's attempts to drag him away, Terry found he had inadvertently torn an electrical wire and some plaster out of the wall next to him.

A cautious walkthrough of the ground floor found nothing out of the ordinary.

with all of the doors still firmly locked and bolted.

Terry could find no possible way that the animal could have gained entry into the secure premises, or indeed made its way back out again, and yet the visible signs of his overnight battle with the mysterious interloper were still plain to see in the room he had tried to sleep in.

So just what exactly did both Terry and Richard encounter upon the windswept and isolated heights of rural Somerset?

In the case of Richard, Were these the mischievous and playful spirits of children who had died at the location whilst scraping precious metal deposits from the brickwork of industrial chimneys?

And what was the unidentified creature that tried to drag Terry from his bed in the middle of the night?

Was it a supernatural entity, or was it simply an extremely vivid dream?

And if it was the latter, how do we explain the damage to the bed?

Could Terry have done this?

When viewed objectively, one has to question Terry's behaviour throughout the whole ordeal.

His refusal to investigate the sound of a possible intruder sounds almost contrived, but who knows how one might react or behave in similar circumstances?

Certainly not everyone would have stepped foot out of that bed.

It is not difficult to imagine some undiscovered cryptid dwelling deep within the limestone tunnels and caverns that sometimes ventures out at night to explore or perhaps even hunt.

And with reports of ghostly cavalrymen and phantom hitchhikers warming themselves by the fireplace in local hostilleries, and the antics of the infamous witch of Wookiee Hole Caves continuing to persist, it is not difficult to imagine some supernatural force hanging over the idyllic countryside of southwestern England.

All we know is that we don't know, and probably never will.

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Story 2.

Spirits of Devil's Pool

After a string of deaths at a remote beauty spot in Queensland, Australia, many people began to wonder if the area was cursed.

Legend told of a woman's ghostly face appearing just below the surface of the waters there, luring young men to their deaths.

Join us as we go in search of the Spirits of Devil's Pool.

The small town of Babinda, situated 40 miles to the south of Cairns, is notable for two things.

The first is its name.

which when translated from the country's native Aboriginal tongue means mountain.

It is an apt description for the settlement which dwells within the shadow of Queensland's two highest peaks, Mount Bartlefreer and Mount Bellenden Kerr.

The second thing Babinda is known for is that it is officially Australia's wettest town, recording over 4,000mm

that's around 160 inches or 13 feet of annual rainfall.

This combination of mountainous terrain and violent downpours has resulted in numerous spectacular waterfalls and underground tunnels, which are visited by thousands of tourists every year.

The most famed of these is known as the Babinda Boulders.

Literature published by the Australian Tourist Board explains that this idyllic location was formed when three fast-flowing tributaries once collided amidst a series of gigantic rocks, creating several tranquil and inviting bodies of water.

Although there is another, far more sinister account explaining how the site came to exist, one that involves an illicit affair and the tragic deaths of two young lovers.

Legend has it that long before Western society arrived, the region was inhabited by the Yedinji tribe.

Their leader, Wurunu, was engaged to marry a young girl named Ulana, but awoke one morning to find that she had eloped during the night with one of his warriors, a man by the name of Digger.

Consumed by bitterness and jealousy, the tribal elder gathered his warband and immediately hunted down the traitorous youngsters.

By the day's end, Ulana and her lover found themselves surrounded by Warunu's men, with the fast-flowing Babinda River at their backs.

As their captors closed in, the two deserters flung themselves into the waters.

Digger immediately disappeared into the depths and never resurfaced.

As soon as Ulana realised that her lover had perished, It is said that her grief-stricken screams echoed around the valley, smashing boulders to pieces and turning the waters into a raging torrent.

She vanished in the whitewater shortly thereafter.

In the aftermath of Ulana's disappearance, the menfolk of the Yedinji tribe began to die whenever they ventured near the water.

Once brave warriors were reduced to sniveling wrecks, claiming to have seen Ulana's face under the surface, her cold dead hands dragging their companions into the depths.

in retribution for the loss of her lover.

In time, the legend would fade, but the deaths of the visitors to the area would not.

Over the last century, the same waters have claimed more than 20 lives.

Some believe the spot is cursed, that it exudes an almost supernatural allure, that the spirit of Ulana entices young men into the waters, only for them to drown with an uncanny ferocity.

It is for this reason that the area is known to the locals as Devil's Pool.

The first recorded fatality at the pools occurred on the 10th of June 1933, when a local man by the name of Winterbottom was dragged into a whirlpool at the bottom of one of the Babinda waterfalls.

The Cairns Post chronicled the fruitless efforts of the authorities to find his missing body, theorising that it must have been sucked down and lodged somewhere in one of the many tunnels and crevices that lurked within the depths.

The same newspaper namechecks Babinda once again in November of 1940, when it related the case of John Dominic English.

John was an eight-year-old child, who was seemingly yanked down under the water and drowned, despite the frantic efforts of his parents and others nearby to save him.

The only mercy in the child's death was that his body was not lost to the haunting darkness below.

For the last decade at least, swimming and other activities of any kind have been officially banned because of the worrying loss of life.

The official viewing platforms and the pathways leading to and from them are now securely fenced off.

Mounted upon the centre of the main viewing platform, there is a modest memorial plaque, with a brief but moving inscription.

He came for a visit and stayed forever.

This is dedicated to 24-year-old Pete McGann, who was tragically killed there on the 22nd of June 1979.

Pete was visiting the Babinda Pools with some friends.

and a number of them had decided to climb through the rock formations that led to the top of the waterfalls.

As the group slowly progressed along the rock face, Pete spotted a small hole in between some nearby rocks.

He shouted for his friends to watch him and then jumped out across the tiny gap.

Unfortunately, he never made it to the other side.

As his companions watched, his body suddenly lost all forward momentum mid-jump and immediately plummeted straight down into the narrow breach beneath him.

Pete did not even have time to cry out as his body disappeared from view.

plunging down into the foaming waters below.

The alarm was quickly raised, and local rescue workers and paramedics were called.

A number of tentative initial dives were made into the water to try and find Pete's body, but the swirling and surging currents made any meaningful attempt impossible.

It would be a further six weeks before divers, in possession of sufficient equipment and training, could descend into the depths and retrieve the young man's remains.

The plaque was still clearly on display almost 30 years later.

On the sunny morning of the 30th of November 2008, a group of four young men arrived at the Babinda Pools, seeking a day of rest and relaxation.

Amongst their number was a 23-year-old Tasmanian native named James Bennett.

James was a sub-lieutenant in the Australian Navy and had been stationed aboard one of their minesweepers, HMAS Norman.

Having parked their cars, James and his friends walked onto the site and noticed a couple of local children swimming out on the far edge of the pools.

Despite the safety rails and warning notices that had long been in place, the men disregarded them, taking the sight of the children playing in the water as an indication that it was also safe for them to venture in.

The group jumped over the barriers and started to pick their way along several narrow pathways between the looming granite boulders before they came across a beautiful pool underneath a viewing platform.

Within minutes, they had all undressed and plunged into the deep blue water, swimming around and splashing one another.

This went on for about 10 minutes, when James Bennett suddenly threw his arms up into the air and cried out in shock, before disappearing straight under the water.

He had been pulled vertically downwards in the space of a heartbeat, as if taken hold of by a strong and powerful grip.

The other three men initially thought he was messing around, but this passing amusement soon turned to horror, as a pair of hands emerged for just a moment, thrashing around in a desperate bid to find something to hold on to.

They could now clearly see James's outline, struggling and writhing just beneath the water.

He was suspended only a few feet down, but was seemingly unable to swim up and breach the surface despite frantic efforts to do so.

The others immediately jumped out of the water, ripping branches from nearby trees and plunging them down where they had last seen their struggling friend, but it was no use.

James had now disappeared into the darkness.

Other deaths at the beauty spot have been equally disturbing.

In one reported case, a young couple was visiting the site on the day of a heavy rainstorm.

They were on one of the lower walkways and had asked one of the volunteer lifeguards to take a picture of them standing together.

He had barely done so when a sudden surge of storm flow rose up and sliced across the decking they were all standing on.

As both tourists were swept out into the surging waters, the lifeguard immediately discarded their camera and jumped in after them.

He was able to save the woman, but her boyfriend never resurfaced, dragged down into the whirlpool they had been swept into.

Storm flooding has accounted for many other victims in the area, with a visiting Korean tourist killed there as late as 2018.

Another infamous story describes what happened to a schoolboy from a neighbouring district when his class came to visit for the day.

The 15-year-old student was particularly troublesome and caused repeated problems throughout the duration of the trip.

even going as far as to kick one of the wooden warning signs out of the ground as he passed by.

Within moments, he slipped on a nearby patch of wet mud and plunged down to his death.

These types of unfortunate incidents are sadly far from uncommon, with water-related deaths accounting for a significant proportion of those attended by the local coroner's office each year.

Between the aforementioned storm surges and flooding, there are also domestic swimming pool deaths, drownings attributed to crocodile attacks, and even coastal tsunamis.

But the sheer volume and similarity between incidents at Babinda is difficult to ignore.

For the witnesses who have been present during these occurrences, and sometimes even for the grieving families of the victims, there is a sinister vibe to what has taken place, as if there is something that operates outside the established laws of nature which seems to haunt the site.

And it has been said that there have been occasions when this unknown force has inadvertently let its presence be known.

Some photographs taken of the pools in the aftermath of such incidents are said to have contained the shape of a woman's face peering up from under the water's surface.

In other pictures, the ghostly outlines of the victims can just about be made out, standing along the water's edge.

Then there is the fact that the 20 people who are known to have been killed at Babinda Boulders in recent times all died as the result of drowning, but some of them were not even in the water at the time.

further suggesting that something sinister is at play.

Pete McGann was climbing on rocks 40 feet above above the surface of the pools, when an invisible force seemingly reached out and plucked him from mid-air.

The visiting couple swept off the viewing platform and the unruly teenager who kicked the sign were also propelled over and down into the pools by circumstances far beyond their control.

The bodies of those who have drowned also seem to take an excessively long time to be found and recovered.

as if they have been hidden away from those trying to locate them.

Divers entering the Babinda pools in search of the deceased have reported decidedly unusual experiences.

One rescue worker related how one underwater search lasted five weeks.

When they finally located the body of the young swimmer, they were unable to free him.

It was as if the same unseen force that had pulled the body down and jammed it against the rocks in the first place was now refusing to relinquish it, exerting a crushing pressure on both the corpse and the men working to free it.

The divers had hacked at the wooden timbers and rocks that held the body in place for two days, but to no avail.

It was only as they had been wearily suiting up and preparing to re-enter the water on the third day that the cadaver had astonishingly appeared on the water's surface by itself.

It seemed that whatever power had been withholding it from them had finally tired of its efforts.

Other bodies have been found spinning wildly around in underwater circles, as if pulled by an invisible pair of hands.

Local residents and shopkeepers are happy enough to recount the stories of Ulana's ghosts to the curious backpackers and tourists who visit the area, but they have far more grounded beliefs about how the victims all met their end.

The entire region sits atop a honeycomb of volcanic tunnels and tubes that were carved out by historic lava flow.

These go hand in hand with underwater currents and riptides that can suddenly materialise and subside again without warning.

Bodies which disappear into the depths are quite often caught up in these currents, where they can be sucked into the subterranean caves and tunnels, sometimes trapped for months before they return to the surface.

In November 2014, a 56-year-old local man named Maurice Shutter was paddling his way across nearby Lake Eacham when he fell out of the inflatable raft he was in.

Maurice was not wearing a life preserver and authorities spent the next 26 days unsuccessfully searching for his body.

even utilising a submersible at one point.

His remains eventually resurfaced to staggering 18 months later, in a remarkably well-preserved condition.

The local police stated that this was not unusual, as at some points the lake bed dropped below 65 meters.

At this depth, with little oxygen and no natural predators, a body would simply lie in the silt until a brief surge in water temperature propelled it back to the surface.

The pool in which James Bennett perished is especially notorious for drownings and is nicknamed the washing machine, on account of a powerful clockwise current that swirls just meters below the tranquil surface.

The surging streams of bubbles it produces severely reduce the water's natural buoyancy, meaning that anything drawn into it could not be pulled clear without additional assistance.

Whether you believe the deaths at Devil's Pool are caused by some supernatural force, or whether they are simply the result of many converging factors, including sheer bad luck, there is no denying that the area is unnaturally terrifying.

due in no small part to how its otherwise beautiful and serene appearance masks a far darker reality.

Even without the existence of vengeful spirits and destructive paranormal entities, Australia is a land that demands deference and respect from those who choose to travel it.

As humankind continues to expand across the world's surface, there are few untamed landscapes left to challenge us, but the arid deserts of the land of the Lucky Cross remain largely unconquered.

Maybe the extreme sadness and loss felt by Ulana and those who have since perished at Babinda has perhaps somehow managed to become imprinted in the very fabric of the landscape, especially the boulders that surround the pool, permeating deep inside them and cursing the location with misfortune for generations yet to come.

Thankfully, since the death of James Bennett in 2008, the ban on swimming has meant that no further deaths due to drowning have been reported at the site.

But who knows if the spirit of Devil's Pool remains, watching and waiting.

waiting.

Mike and Alyssa are always trying to outdo each other.

When Alyssa got a small water bottle, Mike showed up with a four-litre jug.

When Mike started gardening, Alyssa started beekeeping.

Oh, come on.

They called a truce for their holiday and used Expedia Trip Planner to collaborate on all the details of their trip.

Once there, Mike still did more laps around the pool.

Whatever.

You were made to outdo your holidays.

We were made to help organize the competition.

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