Derek Acorah: Extreme Psychic. Derek Acorah
We all switched our bedside lights on simultaneously and were shocked to see one of the lads in the other beds sitting up holding his face and looking absolutely terrified. We asked him what had happened and he told us that he had decided to flout the rules and have a cigarette in bed before going off to sleep – something that was definitely against the rules. He explained that as he was puffing away on his cigarette it had suddenly been snatched out of his mouth by what he described as ‘the shadowy figure of a man’ who had then turned the lit end of the cigarette around and jabbed it into the side of his face.
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.
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