As I turned around the corner at work I jumped as a moth fluttered past me, what an idiot, deep breath, move on.

The sky outside had turned dark, not black with stars, just dark. The smog from the city meant the sky was devoid of description. I put on my big comfy warm coat and ventured into the night, with my trusty torchlight bouncing off the concrete floors and brick walls, what a night to go ghost hunting.

There were several of us there, all in big coats and ready for the off. Walking to the cemetery on a cold dull night was definitely atmospheric, and a few friends huddled together for warmth.

When we got there was a rather marvelous big old church with big buttresses and it glowed in the moonlight like a fairy-tale castle lit up at Disneyland. We were all very impressed, a bit less impressed when we found out we were going inside first.

Inside the church was cavernous and cold, our voices echoed with the high ceilings, if I was in a choir here you certainly could feel you were singing to god. The wooden pews were old and dented, and the central dais was rickety but functional. I found the stained glass windows to be beautifully full of colour and life, not even being religious I could see the beauty in it.

We began the evening by meeting our guide, he had slicked-back black hair, bright hazel eyes, and a glint in his smirk like he was going to enjoy terrifying us tonight. During the course of the evening we listen to stories about the place and nod along with it, the atmosphere was starting to get creepily worse.

Out into the cemetery now and it’s definitely colder outside than in, and the only noise is an owl in the background hooting at us, or at least that’s what it felt like.

The stories our grisly guide was giving us about ghosts were enjoyable but creepy, and looking around I was waiting for something to leap out and say ‘BOO’.

The evening went well and I left the party of friends around 2am, still spooked from ‘The hunt’ I walked home a little faster than intended, tripping over a paving slab I crashed to my knees in pain as the joint impacted with the concrete, painfully I limped home and as I turned a corner something flashed past my eyes, turning quickly I see a boy, younger than 10 in old clothing with a haze around him, realising he was on of the ghosts that were mentioned earlier I walk into the house, shut the door and didn’t come out until late the next day, with sore knees and dubious of every glint in the sunlight or movement out of the corner of my eye.