Nicola Kirk: Author and Collector of Paranormal Stories and Other Strange Encounters

Posts tagged ‘holiday’


Hey, Where Did Everybody Go?

I’m not all ‘paranormal paranormal, ghostie ghostie’.  Well, not all the time anyway, sometimes you do have to have a break from it all.  Having spent a few days in the lovely seaside town of Le Touquet, France, I have come to the conclusion that all those years I spent learning French was a waste of time.  I went over there and thought to myself, well, here we are in France, surrounded by French personages, I will speak French to them!  But no:

“Je voudrais deux cappuchinos, s’il vous plait!” I announced proudly in one restaurant, hoping my hubby would be seriously impressed by the fluency of my French and ignoring the confused look my son was giving me.

“Two cappuchinos?  Okay, anything else?” the waitress replied with a smile.

What?  What’s this?  Is my French so terrible, the waitress wants to spare my blushes by making me speak English?  Perhaps it’s my accent?  English with a hint of Australian (according to some people, although I’ve never been to Australia in my life.  Well, not in this life anyway.)

“Uh… no, that’s everything, thanks a lot.”  Pah.  All those years of slaving over a hot French dictionary and they insist on speaking my own language to me.  Well, at least they aren’t just looking at me blankly as they did with my poor pa when he once ordered ‘trois bieres‘ and held up four fingers.

Show Me The Money!

Le Touquet is a beautiful place during the summer months, but when you visit out of season, as we did, it’s a ghost town.  The seafront becomes a desolate place with a slightly menacing feel to it due to the lack of life.  Of any kind.  I’m sure we didn’t even see a seagull while we were there.  The sky was grey, the wind was a bit overexcited and the place had the air of a deserted fairground: you knew some fun had been had there, but it was a long time ago and all that remained were the echoes.  It was wonderfully eerie; I rather liked it.  It set my imagination running off down all sorts of avenues.  We drove around the tree-lined boulevards around the apartment where we were staying and stared at the huge houses that had been shuttered up for the winter.  It appears that many of the homes there are owned by super rich people who only use them in the summer months and then shut them up for the winter.  Cafes and shops seemed more closed than open and it wasn’t until we trundled off to Boulogne Sur Mer to see the Nausicaa aquarium and Amiens to see the lovely little zoo there that we found life again.  But that deserted seafront at Le Touquet is haunting me – I think it needs a short story or something written about it.

Le Touquet may not be exactly rife with ghost stories, in fact, I’ve struggled to find reference to anything weird there, but driving down the deserted roads certainly gave me food for thought.  All those shuttered up mansions and lifeless windows – who knows what could be lurking in there?

On a completely different subject, have a look at this:

Who says Pagans don’t have  a sense of humour…

See you later.

©Nicola Kirk and 2013


I am pleased to announce that all short stories on my blog are available to download for free.  Click here for more free short stories.  If you enjoy them, please feel free to leave some feedback!



If you have a nagging wife, and no one else can help, perhaps you should call… Mary Mournay.

Click here for a free copy: Mary Mournay .

Format: PDF file


©Nicola Kirk and 2010

I’m Watching You…

Things from the ‘other side’ seem to take an active interest in what Doreen Philps of Chigwell, Essex gets up to. One particular experience that has always haunted her happened 30 years ago:

In 1980, Doreen, her husband, Charles and their son, Stuart, who was nearly three at the time, went on holiday to Torrevieja in Spain.  They were sharing a villa with another couple, Bernard and Cheryl.

Stuart had his own room next to Doreen and Charles, and on the other side was Bernard and Cheryl’s room.  They had decided to leave the passage light on at night in the hope that Stuart would feel a little more secure sleeping in a strange place.

One night, Doreen awoke and got up to go to the bathroom.  She went to the bedroom door but paused when she heard noises coming from the passage beyond.  She glanced down and saw that the light was being blocked at the bottom of the door as if someone was walking about in the passage.  She assumed that it was one of their friends, also up in the night, and decided to wait until they had gone back to their room.  After what felt like an age, she could wait no longer.  She opened the bedroom door a crack and peered out into the passage.

There was no one there.

She opened the door a little further and looked into the bathroom.  There was no one there either.

Initially, Doreen shrugged off the strange night’s events until the following morning when Cheryl appeared for breakfast.

“You were a bit noisy last night,” Doreen smiled.

“Noisy?” Cheryl repeated, looking puzzled.  “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I woke up in the night and all I could hear was you wandering up and down the passage.  Couldn’t you sleep?”

“We didn’t leave our room all night,” Bernard said.  “Actually, we thought it was you.”  Doreen shivered and looked to her husband.

“Don’t look at me,” Charles muttered into his coffee mug.  “I was asleep.”

Then Stuart piped up.

“Who was in my last night?” he asked, innocently.

“In your room?” Doreen frowned.  “When?  No one went into your room last night.”  She looked around the table in case it had been one of the others but they all looked just as confused as she was.

“There was a man in my room last night,” Stuart insisted.  His parents went cold at the thought that someone might have broken in to the villa while they were sleeping.

“A man in your room?” Charles asked.  “Are you sure?  You must have been dreaming.”

“No, I saw him.  He was old.  He stood at the end of my bed.  But I wasn’t scared.  I liked him.”   The adults looked at each other blankly but Stuart, despite being so young, was quite adamant about what he had seen. From that evening on, all windows and doors were double checked before going to bed but Doreen couldn’t quite shake the feeling that whatever had visited them in the small hours had not been of this world.

Who, or what, was it that had decided to pay the young family and their friends a visit that night at the villa?


©Nicola Kirk and 2010

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