Alone in a centuries-old pub in Gloucestershire, I came face to face with a shadowy figure that chased me through the darkness, writes SCOTT MERRETT
Ghosts, ghouls, spectres, poltergeists and banshees are staples of ghost stories we all know and love. From the classic Victorian grey lady to the eerie tales of disappearing hitchhikers, these apparitions haunt our imagination. But nothing chills me more than the phenomenon of the shadow man.
You know the feeling: that figure you glimpse in the corner of your eye, the sense of being watched as you peer into the darkness, swearing there’s something out there—a shape somehow darker than the surrounding night. That shadow lurking in the doorway at midnight.
This is my encounter with such an entity. I call it the Shadow Man of Almondsbury.
Almondsbury and Lower Almondsbury are located seven miles from the centre of Bristol, in the southwest of England. Today, they lie just a quarter of a mile from the busy M5 motorway, but in years past, Almondsbury was a quiet rural village with roots dating back to the Domesday Book.
The church here was built in 1148, along with cottages to house the monks and builders. To this day, rumours persist of tunnels connecting the church and these ancient cottages.
In 1550, the cottages were transformed into a licensed premises, and they even served as a courthouse following the Duke of Monmouth’s rebellion. Today, it is a well-established gastro pub, which was family-owned until the mid-2000s and is now managed by a local brewery.
The pub epitomises a traditional English country inn, with its whitewashed exterior, open fires, wooden beams and stone walls.
I worked there for about seven years, starting in 2003. Over the years, I heard many stories associated with the building: footsteps on the stairs, children singing “Ring a Ring o’ Roses,” and sightings of mysterious figures.
My encounter, however, doesn’t fit neatly into any of these tales. My story took place in 2008, and even 16 years later, I am convinced I saw—and was chased by- a shadow person.
It was a cold November evening, and we were finishing up for the night. All the customers had left, and only I and one other staff member remained. We had a few end-of-day tasks to complete, and the last job was polishing and wrapping the silverware for the next day.
My first mistake was telling my colleague that he could leave early and that I would handle the last of the silverware alone.
After locking the front door behind him, I went through the kitchen to the backroom to finish up. This backroom connects to the restaurant area through a swing door—one with a small window so people don’t collide when passing through.
I was in the brightly lit backroom, rolling cutlery, while the restaurant and the entire front of the pub lay in complete darkness. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a movement- a shape passing from one side of the restaurant to the other. I shrugged it off as a trick of the light, convincing myself it was just my imagination in an old, supposedly haunted pub.
A few minutes later, though, the feeling of being watched grew stronger. I glanced through the swing door’s window and froze. In the darkness of the restaurant, there was a distinct outline of a tall figure – somehow darker than the surrounding blackness.
I stood there, paralysed, staring at this shape. I knew no one else was in the building; every door was locked, and I held the keys. I strained my eyes, hoping I’d recognise it as something harmless – a coat stand or a shadow cast by furniture.
Then, I heard it. The sound of someone – or something – sprinting across the tiled floor, the footsteps growing louder, closer. And then—BANG! The swing door flew open, swinging wildly on its hinges. But no one came through.
I wish I could say I was brave, that I stayed to catch a clearer glimpse. But I bolted, running as fast as I could. I dashed through the kitchen, down the back corridor, and out the side door, locking it behind me. In seconds, I was in my car and speeding away.
The next day, a few colleagues asked about my close-down routine the previous night. But saying “a shadow person chased me out” didn’t feel like the right response. I never told anyone at work about it, and, apart from maybe half a dozen people, this is the first time I’m truly sharing the story.
I continued working there for another two years without any further encounters. But I will never forget my night with the Shadow Man of Almondsbury.
Have you ever had an encounter with a shadowy figure? Share your experiences in the comments!
