Hallowe’en is over, I know; will you forgive me for posting another spooky tale? This one is from the Fortean Times site:
I live on the edge of Dartmoor, England which is range of moorland steeped in ancient history. Whilst being on the moor several strange things have happened to me. I’ve heard children laughing by a gate on a ruined farm and I’ve had had feelings of terrible evil in the area where many people have inexplicably driven off the road and been injured. The ghost here is known as the “hairy hands”.
However, this story is one about a horse. I kept my horses on a farm on Dartmoor because the riding is so good. One day we all went off to the horse market leaving one man behind to care for the other animals. Apparently, whilst we were gone he went out in the yard to feed the horses and saw a grey horse standing by the gate. At first he couldn’t think how he got in as the gate was padlocked. Then he thought perhaps we had bought him at the market and sent him back with a neighbour giving the neighbour a key and he had locked it again after him. Off he went to get another feed but when he got back the horse had gone. Very shocked he went into a neighbouring cottage and told the old man who lived there.
“What did the horse look like” asked the old man. Jerry described him. “Well years ago there was an old horse just as you descibed, who always stood at the gate on market days and when I came home from school, I’d give him my lunchtime apple.” We all pulled Jerry’s leg about knocking back the whisky whilst we were out but two weeks after this happened, the old man died and no-one ever saw the horse again.