From: Steven B
Subject: My Paranormal Experience
My story began on an already atmospheric evening in May 2016 at the Stewponey near Stourton. After going through a traumatic relationship breakdown I was invited by my father to join him to fish on the canal at Stewponey junction for a few hours with a family friend. The fishing itself was all in all uneventful but distant rumblings of thunder ensured we all remained alert (carbon fibre rods and lightening do not mix so I hear). At approximately 10.15 as the light has gone completely, the air was decidedly charged and it was then that I saw someone approaching on the opposite bank. Two things struck me, the first was that this person did not have a torch (quite unusual as there are no towns for quite a way along this stretch and the darkness clings to you due to the overhanging trees – even before I saw what I saw I was apprehensive of that stretch of canal even in the heights of summer). The second was that the outline of the person was quite visible but the texture was solid yet smoke-like.I was transfixed as this ‘person’ approached, trying to make sense of what I was looking at. I looked around briefly for something to use as a weapon as the presence of this person in this situation did not feel right. As the figure passed by me on the opposite bank, I was amazed to see that the legs were visible but an upper body was not. The legs moved with a floating fluidity – almost as you would on a flat escalator you would find at an airport to assist when you walk with suitcases. They not seem to be on the ground (or either above it or underneath it) and as the figure passed a barrier (near to the stourbridge/kinver signpost where the canal runs into the river stour) the legs ‘disappeared’ and the upper body was now visible, smoke-like and moving with an awkwardness that was of stark contrast to the fluidity of the legs. I watched the figure pass by and realised it would either cross the bridge to my left and walk behind me (and I could be sure of what it was) OR continue along that path. I peaked to look around the corner of my fishing umbrella and the figure appeared to turn and make its way over the bridge. I braced myself, ready to grab my bank stick if needed – I was on edge at this point and had an overwhelming feeling that I would need to defend myself. But there was nothing. No footsteps, no “good evening”, nothing. As mine was the only path there was no where logically that this figure could have gone. Thinking I had gone sporadically mad I turned to my dad and asked if he has seen what I had seen. Of course he hadn’t, his night float was positioned in a way that he was facing in the opposite direction. Typical! However, my fears that I had lost it were soon eased by the family friend, who fishing at the far end of the junction and out of earshot had seen exactly what I had seen. As this man has been a director of a funeral home for many years, he is not spooked easily and had never experienced anything until that point but he was certain that what we had seen was a ghost. Perhaps it was the ghost of Billy Howe the highwayman who was hung to rot on nearby Gibbet lane after being found guilty of murder in 1812? I did not feel comfortable in his presence if it was and I will not be going back after dark – unlike my father, who fishes there frequently, armed with a camera, just in case!