For those who haven’t read them, here are my previous posts on time slipping:
OK, now that we’re all caught up, here are some more cases of persons unintentionally slipping through time:
East End Bombsite: Napoleonic TimeslipWhile on an ‘Anomalies’ themed chatroom back in 1998, I found one user called Elizabeth,
and kept as a regular contact. While discussing themes such as UFO sightings, crop circles, she then mentioned a case that her aunt had experienced after the Second World War. I was curious, so Elizabeth sent fragmented details via instant messenger of her aunt’s incident. Elizabeth’s aunt ‘Beryl’ [actual name omitted on request] who felt she might have slipped back to the early 1800’s while exploring bomb sites with her elder sister Daisy.
On enquiry, I was told at the time that Beryl constantly reflects on what she experienced, emphasising it was not a hallucination or a fragment of false memory.
It was 1947, and though the war had ended, it was still a tough time. Beryl as a seven-year-old had returned to her parent’s home after being evacuated from Mile End Road , situated in London’s east end. She was sent to live with relatives in Lincolnshire. Even as a child she found her original home rather strange, but spent time like all of the other east end kids by playing hopscotch or skipping in the semi derelict streets.
Beryl and her friends would use one of the battered Victorian lampposts by lashing some old rope on the struts to make a swing. Beryl always wanted to tag along with her older sister Daisy and explore the bombsites, as for most kids they were an adventure playground.
‘Sometimes you can find hidden treasure’ said one of Daisy’s friends and added ‘Someone I know found a load of silver ‘thrupneys’ in an old vase’. Beryl, used to keep ‘mithering’ her elder sister to tag along, Daisy always said no and kept repeating ‘it’s too dangerous.’
However, on this occasion Daisy said ‘Come on then but don’t wander off because you will fall down a massive hole.’
Beryl described this particular day. ‘It was cold we walked what seemed for ages down the grimy damp streets as most of the buildings were in various stages of falling down.’
Beryl told her niece about how dangerous it was. ‘The houses that were partially standing up were propped up with massive wooden frames.’ In addition, you would get ‘half a house’ with the top room window frames with shards of glass sticking out like icicles, tethered to ripped curtains.
They ended up on a street called Wellclose Square. ‘It was an odd place’ said Beryl.
She remembered how strange it was that some of the buildings were not touched, but still remained empty as most of the buildings were boarded up, except for one tallish looking house that had a gap in the wall like a giant mouse hole.
The house with the gap in the wall had a back garden, which was choked with weeds, but for some odd reason, Beryl found this particular house enchanting. One of triggers of the experience was the weeds; ‘The smell of the weeds created a strange atmosphere.’
Daisy was close by, but decided to explore an old outhouse and told Beryl to stay put.
Beryl clambered across the garden and decided to sneak into the hole that was under the window.As Daisy and her friends were throwing rocks onto the roof of shed, Beryl peeked into the gap, as she was small enough to squeeze through. While crawling through the gap trying to avoid the loose bricks and cobwebs, as she squeezed through, halfway into a room.Beryl noticed a woman in old-fashioned clothes wearing a white linen cap, peering over big metal pot that was placed above a large open fireplace.
Taking a second glance, two other people appeared out of nowhere, one woman who was dressed in grey clothes wearing a crumpled bonnet, moments later, a man wearing a green coat with ribbings on the front, and a shako hat walked into the room.
Beryl described the scene ‘It was just like out of the Gainsborough films we used to watch at the pictures.’ [Gainsborough Studios, a London based film Production Company who on occasions would produce historical dramas].
Beryl added, ‘Inside the furniture looked really old-fashioned spindly chairs, striped wall coverings even though a large fire was roaring away in the large fireplace, I did not feel any heat.’ As she sneaked in for a closer look, suddenly a small boy who was dressed in a blue calico gown gave Beryl an inquisitive look and waved at her, then began shouting.
Somehow, as the toddler made such a noise, the other two people did not hear him or did not take notice. The boy continued to point and shout though Beryl could not hear any sound, but crept back slowly and ran off.
‘Hey Daisy‘ as she scrambled across the foot strangling weeds, ‘there are people in that empty house.’ Beryl tugged Daisy’s jumper and pulled her towards the garden.
‘What people?’ ‘It’s an empty house?’ said Daisy, ‘she was a bit miffed.’
Daisy still reluctant to follow Beryl across the weed strewn garden ‘you first Daisy,’ said Beryl. Daisy said ‘Alright then I am not scared’ and headed towards the ‘mouse hole’ in the wall. Moments later, Daisy replied ‘there’s nothing here just a dusty room full of bricks and rubble. ‘Beryl then followed inside, all she saw was a pile of wood, rubble and bits of coal strewn against the wall and it smelt damp, which ruled out there ever been a fire. They went back to the same place two days later.
The gap in the wall was not there, Beryl added ‘it looked intact as if there never had been any hole or any form of damage,’ ‘ I even took a closer look at the exact spot,’nothing it seemed untouched.’ I asked Elizabeth, what she thought. Her viewpoint was that the location had a curious history and highlighted the connection of the ‘people’ Beryl had seen.
Elizabeth studied the description of the man by researching historical records, as the man, whom Beryl describes, may have been a soldier who might have been off to war.
or had returned home, he was dressed in the British army uniform that could have dated to the Napoleonic war (1803-15).
© John p Harris
Sisters Find Themselves Out of Phase in a U.K. Newspaper Shop
(This was originally posted on a forum on a US web site that no longer exists. You can learn more about the original poster here: https://secretleeds.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=6463)
It was 1998 on a summer’s morning in Leeds. My sister and I were on our way to work and decided to pop into the paper shop. (Whether this is relevant I don’t know, but the shop is situated in a building built around 1899). My sister was in front of me as we approached the shop door, and through the glass panel I saw a woman browsing at the magazine section, immediately to the left of the door entrance.
It looked as though this woman would be in our way as we entered the shop but as we did my sister didn’t seem to be aware of her. I [told my sister], “Mind that woman,” but she carried on walking and went right through her and the woman faded away. [Only then did] my sister stop and ask, “What woman?”
I walked ahead of my sister a little further into the shop and turned to her and told her, “I think I’ve just seen a spirit — you just walked through this woman.” My sister was adamant she saw no one. We both looked around the shop. The lights were off, which I thought was odd; it seemed very gray and eerie. It was the kind of atmosphere you’d expect in the early hours of a winter morning — but this was summertime during business hours. Though all the shelves were stocked like they should have been, we were the only people there. My sister mentioned it was cold, and she said she felt something funny was going on. I felt this too. I said, “We need to get out of here.”
We left the shop but lingered outside the door. I described the woman, who had been in modern-day dress, to my sister, and she asserted, “There was no one there — the shop was empty.” (Upon later comparison, I found that my sister saw everything I saw apart from the woman.) We were outside the shop door for all of a minute when I asked my sister to come back in with me. When we entered the shop, the lights were on and it was full of customers — school kids, people on their way to work, etc. Had I looked more carefully at the people in the store the second time we entered, I feel I would have seen [the woman my sister walked through].
The usual woman was behind the till, but she was staring at us with her mouth open. My sister said, “What the hell is going on? Where did all these people come from?” I was just in total shock. I walked to the till with my sister and bought some cigarettes; as the woman served us, she looked quite terrified. I’ll never forget the look on her face. We left the shop and to this day still can’t get our heads round it. We did go back around a month later to ask the woman if she noticed anything odd, but there was a man serving. My sister said she’d been back a few times and has never seen her again. We did ask the man if anyone had ever mentioned anything about the shop, but I think he thought we were loons.
Almost five years ago [circa 1997] when I lived in Blaketown, a suburb of Greymouth, a town on the South Island of New Zealand, my friend and I were down at the “tip head.” A tip head in New Zealand speak is a man-made bank that extends a river bank where it meets the sea. In the case of Blaketown, it’s used to control the flow of the river.
I’m not entirely sure which of us came up with the bright idea to go on this night; it was very windy, the waves were big and breaking on the tip (not strong enough to wash us off though — they rarely are) and the dark clouds suggested rain very soon. The tip has a ramp leading to a lower platform on the riverside where ships used to load and unload cargo. My friend was looking down at this platform when I noticed a very big wave approaching. I told him it was time to move but he didn’t respond. Something seemed very wrong — it’s like he wasn’t even there. He snapped out of it after I screamed at him a few times and we got out of the way. He was completely freaking out. I asked him why he didn’t respond and he said he’d seen a vision of ship. It was daytime in this vision and lots of people were about, loading up this old-fashioned steam ship. It was an ordinary, simple scene, which discounts both a past life recollection (ones not prompted by hypnosis are nearly always the death of the life in question) and an atmospheric photograph ghost (assuming strong emotions are the key to such things).
We went back the next day and his description of the tip in his vision squared with what’s there today to a T. He said the ramp had a cart on it, mounted on train rails. While there are no rails there today, there are further towards land and the concrete on the ramp is of a noticeably different grain to the rest of the platform. He said that the tip seemed shorter and, again, a different grain of concrete towards the end suggests this is true. He said that there were streams of water pouring off the sides of the tip, and there are remnants of wooden channels on the surface. These were obviously intended to siphon water from breaking waves off quicker. I asked him how he felt during the vision and he said, “I felt like I was there, but shouldn’t have been.” The people in this vision gave no indication they knew of his “presence,” but this is hardly a relevant detail as it can’t have lasted more than 10 seconds.
This person in question was and still is one of my best friends: an observant, intelligent and logical but still open-minded man who is currently in the Air Force. We’d been down to the tip at night a hundred times before and a hundred since and nothing like it has ever happened again.
The sea around the tiphead is very rough, and the entry to the river is very hazardous at times. Many ships have gone down in the area, and I’d be surprised if the place hasn’t seen at least one suicide. There’s a monument down there to the people who’ve drowned in the area over the years. It’s got about a dozen plaques on it, and if anything it’s underused. When I head down there at night, even when I think about all this stuff, it doesn’t bug me. But some nights there’s just…something about the place. One night it was a beautifully clear and calm night, New Year’s about 1999 if I’m not mistaken. The view from the end would’ve been something special, but my friend (a different one) and I both agreed: Something wasn’t right. Another time I was down there with the friend who had the timeslip; we got halfway down the road and I couldn’t get away fast enough.
I’ve often wondered if the emotional imprint/atmospheric photograph-type ghosts aren’t just timeslips manifesting to a weaker level. There are too many ghosts who obviously are not sentient but also aren’t doing anything that would suggest a strong emotional situation is the trigger. You also have to factor in the surroundings — some places haven’t changed much over the years to the casual observer. Also, if the experience features people, then the person viewing the thing might be so caught up (e.g.: “Holy shit, there’s a dude in a suit of armor!”) in what’s going on to really take in the fact that the scenery’s changed as well. Basically, I think timeslips are probably more common than they at first appear.