Phantom Hottoper: A real phenomenon or fatigue?

I received an amazing number of stories Wirral Globe Readers about ghosts and other strange entities that they encountered on the roads of the Peninsula in the past, as well as recently.

Some of these accounts come from decades, while others describe the meetings that took place in quite recently.

Here are only two of them.

I will start with a very unusual meeting that took place in the approach to the roundabout in which Clatterbridge Road, Thornton Common Road and Willaston Road meet.

Just before the roundabout at the end of Clatterbridge Road there is a triangular island of movement, and on Saturday evening May 18, 2019. A man in a thirty named Chris of Hight Bebington was approaching this island on his way to his mother's house in Raby.

Time lasted around 21:00, and a full moon hung over the horizon in the east.

Chris saw the figure of a man in a striped jacket and shadowy pants standing on the triangular island of movement and seemed to have something on his head. When Chris approached the man, he saw that he was some bags.

The man had his right hand stretched towards Chris, and the thumb up. Chris normally never stopped at hitchhikers, but he thought that this elegantly dressed looked harmless and just had to know why the man was wearing a brown paper bag with two eyes on his head.

He stopped on the island, jumped around the window and asked the hook: “What's with the bag?”

“If you kindly give me a break, I explain,” the man answered, and Chris was his voice quite distinctive with his clear termination.

Chris unlocked the door and the man entered – with a witty square brown paper bag covering his head. Opera were perfectly round shadowy holes, and Chris did not see how they did not look.

– Where are you going? He asked Chris, then quickly added: “I'm just going to Raba.”

“In particular nowhere,” said Hitcher, and this answer naturally worried Chris about the intentions of the stranger.

– You said that if I kindly raised you a raise – so what are you talking about? Chris asked, concerned about his safety. Did the stranger wear a weapon?

– In any case, guess why I wear this bag on my head? A strange thumb traveler asked, leaning terribly close to Chris.

“I have no idea, and now you are leaving my car,” said Chris, driving through the roundabout, ready to stop Willaston Road.

The ominous passenger said: “You heard about this saying:” If a look can kill “? Well, I can kill when looking at someone. My face is so terrifying that only a look from me will kill or leave a gibberish.

Chris stopped and said: “Okay, buddy, go. If you want, you can leave the bag.

The man pulled the bag out of his head, saying: “Peek-a-boo!”

Chris saw the man's face; It was a terrifying discovery. 'Oh!' Chris thought that the shock, seeing such a terrifying face, would stop his heart.

It was a grotesque mass of spinning things similar to worms, and their twisting bodies combine into a nightmare mosaic.

The mocking, staring eyes stared from the rotating Morass, and these swollen eyes focused on Chris with intensity, which she added to a terrifying shock.

Fired face movements caused an amazing, hypnotic effect, sending Chris's spine cool and leaving him literally paralyzed with fear.

It was a face so terrifying, so unique that Chris felt like his mind could not fully understand the terror before him. His breath caught his throat, his heart thundered in his chest as he tried to understand the nightmare developing before his eyes.

Chris thought that he would die because of influence on his heart caused by this terror, which did not attribute to everything he had ever known.

The man – did anything be – put the bag on his head and laughed when he got out of the car. He left, and Chris finally recovered from unprecedented trauma.

When his mother opened the door to him in her marinated house, she immediately knew that something terrible had happened to her son.

Chris couldn't talk for a moment, and then he came out with what he had to sound like a far -reaching story, and his mother knew Chris rarely touched alcohol, so she asked him if he took drugs and Chris said he didn't.

He was a hypochondriac and wondered if the highway was a hallucination caused by a neurological disorder.

The same type of hitchhiking with a bag on my head was reported many times, both in Wirral, Liverpool and North Wales, often with a hood covering the face of the hook instead of a brown paper bag that Chris saw.

Chris went to the doctor, told him about a terrifying meeting, and his doctor advised Chris to go to a psychologist to assess his mental health.

Chris decided not to look for a psychologist's assessment. He read about Phantom Hitch-Hikers and discovered that psychologists usually refrain from taking first-hand relationships of people who claim that they encountered disappearing hooks. Instead, they consistently attribute such experiences to basic psychological factors.

On the shadowy morning of Monday, January 1, 1940, at 6 am, a 46-year-old man Wallasey named Robert Jones was going home from the New Year's party.

When the car was driving Cliff Road, a tiny vintage woman waved feverishly at Robert from the side of the road.

He stopped, and the lady, which was slightly below five feet, said: “Can you take me to Breek? I live there.

Robert nodded and said: Yes, of course and reached for his seat to open the rear passenger door.

The old lady entered and Robert left cold, but an old lady, dressed in a black long coat, just sat there and smiled in silence.

When the car drove around Breck Road, Robert turned and said, “Where do you live?”

He saw a small casket lying in the back seats – but there is no old woman.

Robert was so surprised by what he saw that he almost slipped on the black ice on the post. He left the car, numb from shock and carefully opened the back door.

The casket is gone now – the car was empty.

When Robert told her mother what happened, she said she had heard about the old lady and “her coffin” and said that this was a warning about death.

She called Robert to be extremely caring, but after this ghostly meeting he had three sedate accidents. He almost set fire to the wood on the assignment, when he overturned the can of paraffin, he stumbled and fell up the stairs in his house a few days later, breaking the front tooth, and then, on Wednesday, January 10 this year, at 17:00, he got on the railway station on Hamilton Square, Birkenhead, with about 70 people and some unknown reason, which raised 80 years from the street to the street to the street to the street to the street in the street in the street in the street in the street in the street in the street in the street. Hamilton Square, imprisoned in a lifura. seventy people.

Robert was in the mass of screaming, bloody men, women and children.

Fortunately, no one died, but many had life -changing injuries. Robert escaped with a poorly equipped cube.

Two weeks after that he was driving along Cliff Road, and again this little older lady was standing at the curb in the same place where he raised her this cool morning.

Robert Jones looked straight before and went on.