Fortean Times - Fortean Times: It Happened to Me vol. 2 Real-Life Tales of the Paranormal

Tales from the twilight zone

Most people have at least one strange story to tell and some seem to go through life experiencing one weird event after another. While social scientists have put forward the idea of fantasy-prone individuals in an attempt to explain or explain away stories of alien abductions or meetings with otherworldly entities, this doesnt begin to account for the fact that otherwise sane and level-headed people sometimes report the most bizarre experiences, and are usually left baffled, and sometimes rather unnerved, by their close encounters with the unexplained.

One of the problems faced by UFO witnesses, residents of haunted houses or families under siege from noisy poltergeists or mischievous little people is just who to tell at best, their stories might be greeted with incredulous laughter, while, at worst, they might be thought quite mad.

For 36 years, the letters pages of Fortean Times and, more recently, its online forums have been a haven for all those with strange tales to tell, a place where the oddest yarns will be listened to attentively, shared and compared in a communal effort to try and get to grips with the outer limits of the human condition.

This second volume of It Happened to Me! contains a selection of some of our favourite letters, dealing with everything from terrifying hauntings, demonic dogs and vanishing people to more benign oddities, like mysterious appearances of money or what might be termed guardian angels offering help or advice.

So, if you want to be spooked, amazed or just plain perplexed read on. And remember when something strange happens to you, wed love to hear about it.

David Sutton, Editor, Fortean Times

Fortean Times: It Happened to Me - Volume 2

Edited and compiled by Paul Sieveking

Photography and Design Etienne Gilfillan

Editor in Chief David Sutton

Cover image Etienne Gilfillan

Fortean Times: It Happened to Me Volume 2 is published by Dennis Publishing Ltd, 30 Cleveland Street, London W1T 4JD, a company registered in England number 1138891. Entire contents (c) 2010 Dennis Publishing Ltd licensed by Felden. This is an independent publication not affiliated with Apple Inc. or Adobe Systems Inc. All product logos and trademarks are the property of their respective third-party owners.

PERMISSIONS AND REPRINTS

Material in this ePub may not be reproduced in any form without the publisher's written permission. It is available for licensing overseas. For details about international licensing, contact Ornella Roccoletti at or call +44 (0) 20 7907 6134

DENNIS PUBLISHING LTD

MD of Advertising Julian Lloyd Evans

Commercial Director Martin Belson

Chief Operating Officer Brett Reynolds

Group Finance Director Ian Leggett

Chief Executive James Tye

Chairman Felix Dennis

ePub generated by Ovingo / www.ovingo.com

Mysterious Helpers

A visit from a mysterious and untraceable vet in Somerset... a wonderful yet unfindable restaurant in Iran... Stories like these have the feel of classic fairy tales, though like everything between these covers they are claimed by our correspondents to be sober truth. Then there are tales of vital aid in circumstances of imminent danger could these be the interventions of guardian angels?

From Other Dimensions?

EERIE HOUSE CALL

In 1962, I stayed for several months in one of the narrow Georgian houses on Bathwick Hill on the outskirts of Bath. My husband, my daughter and two rather noisy dachshunds were also in the house, but nevertheless I often felt uneasy.

One cold November morning soon after Guy Fawkes Night, my dog Rudi suffered a virulent stomach upset. His companion, Liese, was unaffected, but Rudi grew noticeably worse and I obtained the number of the nearest vet from Directory Enquiries. The vets receptionist told me that a number of dogs in the area were being effected by some form of epidemic, but though every surgery was jammed she thought it might be possible to arrange a visit.

It was 7.30 and very misty when the vet arrived an extraordinarily pale young man, tall, slightly built and somewhat taciturn indeed, curt to the point of rudeness. He placed Rudi on the table in the basement kitchen and the dog stopped whimpering almost immediately.

After a minute or two, the vet lifted him down and, taking a small box from his, bag broke his silence to tell me that the tablets it contained were to be taken every four hours. He said that the dog had developed a particularly nasty form of gastric upset, and for 48 hours he must be given no solid food. He would, however, recover if he took all the tablets. Considerably relieved, I tried to make light conversation as we went back upstairs, but he offered no response. As he went out into the foggy night, he didnt even say goodbye.

The tablets worked well, and within a matter of hours Rudi was himself again. The following morning, I rang the vet with the good news. The receptionist said the epidemic was very much worse; she was sorry no one had yet been able to look at my dog, but someone would be calling later in the day. I told her a vet had already been, but she insisted I must be mistaken. Their Mr X, Mr Y and Mr Z had all been occupied in other directions; but she promised to check. She soon called back to confirm that no one from the practice had called at a house on Bathwick Hill at any time in the previous week.

I contacted Directory Enquiries and by luck reached the same woman I had spoken to the day before. She remembered giving me the number just that one number but suggested that with such a mystery it would be worth checking other vets. She assembled a list of every vet for miles around, which I double-checked with a borrowed copy of Yellow Pages. I rang them all, and drew a blank.

Rudi made a full and speedy recovery. What the tablets were I never found out, but at least they were tangible and extraordinarily effective. The young man had left without mentioning payment and I assumed I would receive a bill, but while we remained in that house for a further three months no bill arrived.

Perhaps the vet was visiting from another dimension; or maybe he was one of those people, frequently medical practitioners, who are said sometimes to be whisked through space, without their knowledge, to render help where its needed. Well probably never know unless theres an ageing veterinary surgeon who recalls mislaying half an hour of his life one November evening 37 years ago.

Ida Pollock, Lanreath-by-Looe, Cornwall, 1999

THE PHANTOM DINER

Some years ago, I was working as a civil engineer in Iran. In about 1956, 1 had to make a visit to Manjil in the north-west in connection with the construction of a cement factory, and went up there with an Iranian engineer. Manjil, the centre of a disastrous earthquake in the early 1990s, is on the road to Rasht, and about 150 miles (240km) from Tehran. At the time of my visit, it was very isolated and all that we had been able to eat was some unleavened bread and dugh, a type of liquid yogurt.

We were in consequence very hungry as we drove back to Tehran. From time to time we met a lorry and would slither past each other. We were fortunate to be travelling in the summer, as the road was quite often impassable with snow in the winter. Eventually, we reached a plateau and, as we were still 120 miles (190km) from Tehran and 50 miles (80km) from Qazvin, the nearest town, any hope of eating was remote.