A
Anonymous
Guest
Hello.
I'm new here, and rather than live vicariously through your bizarrer experiences, I thought I'd venture something fairly odd that happened to me. Now, mostly I live the earth-side of the doors of perception, and apart from this I have had a distinctly unfortean existence. I think that even this could quite easily be explained by the more scientifically literate amongst you.
I was staying with my girlfriend in southern Corfu in July 2002, in a rather unremarkable but quiet resort called St George. Money was tight and this was a last-minute, bargain-break, low-interest sort of holiday which guaranteed much-needed exposure to UV. We were staying in a small, family-run hotel with four floors. Each floor had four rooms, each with a balcony that ran around two sides.
The holiday had been quiet, except for the empty club opposite that banged out Balearic cheese from its overendowed soundsystem every morning 'til 3. So, we were sleep-deprived but relatively happy.
One morning, half way through the holiday, I awoke in the early morning. It was around seven, and light. My girlfriend had woken up too, as neither of us could sleep in for some reason - despite being kept awake until 3 as usual. There was no sound from outside except perhaps a few early morning crickets.
Suddenly, we heard loud, vigorous footfall coming from our balcony: starting from our left, and running right past our slightly ajar screen-doors, to the far right. It was the sound of fast running: much quicker than a man, and with smaller steps - but too heavy for a primate (not that there are any native to Corfu) and far too fast for a child.
We were taken aback, puzzled but not scared. I suggested that it must be a child, perhaps on the balcony above. We both knew this didn't wash as the sound, most definitely, was coming from our balcony. Just as I finished rationalising the running began again, loud and fast from the balcony. I leapt out of bed and ran to the screen door, and as i got nearer the sound became louder. I tore the door open just as the sound was at its loudest but nothing was there. Just beach towels, and the table and chairs as we'd left it the previous night.
This would be, I suppose, a fairly mundane happening if it wasn't for the fact that it happened the next two mornings, around the same time as we woke unnaturally early. And with each occurrence it became more sinister, and seemed more teasing and capricous - a wild, abandoned noise that often careered from one end of the balcony and back again. It was a running noise in a distinct 'human' style: definitely bipedal and childlike but just far too quick, as I've said.
I work as a sound designer amongst other things and I'd like to think my ears were fairly good, directionally speaking. My girlfriend wouldn't claim that but could equally vouchsafe that it occurred on our balcony. On all occassions I ran as fast as possible to open the door and catch whatever it was in its tracks - to be greeted by complete silence and solitude. The last morning the 'running' occurred was the day we were due to fly home.
As far as I know, Corfu doesn't have particularly exotic fauna. Any ideas on our running companion?
I'm new here, and rather than live vicariously through your bizarrer experiences, I thought I'd venture something fairly odd that happened to me. Now, mostly I live the earth-side of the doors of perception, and apart from this I have had a distinctly unfortean existence. I think that even this could quite easily be explained by the more scientifically literate amongst you.
I was staying with my girlfriend in southern Corfu in July 2002, in a rather unremarkable but quiet resort called St George. Money was tight and this was a last-minute, bargain-break, low-interest sort of holiday which guaranteed much-needed exposure to UV. We were staying in a small, family-run hotel with four floors. Each floor had four rooms, each with a balcony that ran around two sides.
The holiday had been quiet, except for the empty club opposite that banged out Balearic cheese from its overendowed soundsystem every morning 'til 3. So, we were sleep-deprived but relatively happy.
One morning, half way through the holiday, I awoke in the early morning. It was around seven, and light. My girlfriend had woken up too, as neither of us could sleep in for some reason - despite being kept awake until 3 as usual. There was no sound from outside except perhaps a few early morning crickets.
Suddenly, we heard loud, vigorous footfall coming from our balcony: starting from our left, and running right past our slightly ajar screen-doors, to the far right. It was the sound of fast running: much quicker than a man, and with smaller steps - but too heavy for a primate (not that there are any native to Corfu) and far too fast for a child.
We were taken aback, puzzled but not scared. I suggested that it must be a child, perhaps on the balcony above. We both knew this didn't wash as the sound, most definitely, was coming from our balcony. Just as I finished rationalising the running began again, loud and fast from the balcony. I leapt out of bed and ran to the screen door, and as i got nearer the sound became louder. I tore the door open just as the sound was at its loudest but nothing was there. Just beach towels, and the table and chairs as we'd left it the previous night.
This would be, I suppose, a fairly mundane happening if it wasn't for the fact that it happened the next two mornings, around the same time as we woke unnaturally early. And with each occurrence it became more sinister, and seemed more teasing and capricous - a wild, abandoned noise that often careered from one end of the balcony and back again. It was a running noise in a distinct 'human' style: definitely bipedal and childlike but just far too quick, as I've said.
I work as a sound designer amongst other things and I'd like to think my ears were fairly good, directionally speaking. My girlfriend wouldn't claim that but could equally vouchsafe that it occurred on our balcony. On all occassions I ran as fast as possible to open the door and catch whatever it was in its tracks - to be greeted by complete silence and solitude. The last morning the 'running' occurred was the day we were due to fly home.
As far as I know, Corfu doesn't have particularly exotic fauna. Any ideas on our running companion?
