Despite the habitual unexplained events at my wife's clinic at The Foundry, I had never felt any real fear. As a believer in the paranormal, I was more intrigued than frightened by these events. However, there came a point where I decided it was time to confront the situation head on.
It all started on a balmy summer evening. The mall was closed and I went to the store by myself to stock up on supplies. The darkness didn't bother me; in fact, part of me was hoping I'd come across something unusual.
I was not disappointed. As I moved through the store, I noticed a huge, black shadow in the shape of a man. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and was pacing back and forth in the hallway of our clinic. I greeted him with a casual “G'day” and continued working. The shadow continued its hushed patrol, ignoring my attempts to engage him.
This observation was later confirmed by one of our clients, a self-proclaimed psychic. She not only felt the presence of a shadow, but also insisted that the entire store was haunted. She wanted to feature The Foundry on a TV show about hauntings, but the owners of the building refused.
The paranormal activity continued: machines turning on and off by themselves, figures walking around the area. While it didn’t negatively impact our business, it was becoming a nuisance to the staff. I decided it was time to clear the space.
I arrived early in the morning, determined to get rid of the clinic’s ghostly inhabitants. To my surprise, there was no power in our shop and the neighbouring shops. I contacted the building owner, who sent an electrician. However, as usual, everything mysteriously returned to working order before he arrived.
Alone in the shop, I set about my task. I explored various methods: pouring sea salt into the corners of the rooms, placing crystals, burning incense. I performed the usual invocations, hoping to drive away any unwanted entities. I asked the staff to stay away until I gave the “all is well” sign.
Around 9 a.m., I finished work and sat down at the front desk to review my appointments. An hour later, there was an ominous silence, as if the world had suddenly stopped. I felt paralyzed, chained to my chair. Then I heard it—a voice, right next to my right ear, somewhere between a whisper and a scream: “You’ll pay for this.”
He had scarcely uttered the words when the front door of the shop closed with a bang that seemed to shake the entire building.
The silence was deafening. I sat there, my heart pounding, processing what had just happened. It was the first time I had ever felt truly shaken by my experience at The Foundry.
Despite my efforts that day, it seemed clear that whatever presence or presences inhabited the ancient building had no plans to go quietly. The foundry, with a history stretching back to the gold rush, had accumulated more than just years—it had stories, maybe even souls, that weren’t ready to move on.
I left the store that day with a recent respect for the unseen. While I wasn’t sure exactly what I had triggered by my attempt to clear the space, I knew one thing for sure: The Foundry’s secrets were deeper than I had ever imagined.
Posted by Conarelli
