Studio Story Book

Ghost

One Saturday night, I was at home alone when I received a phone call from a Studio around 9:00pm.  The studio owner said that they were in the middle of a session and there was a noise in the console, causing problems when they tried to record.  This was a new client, so he gave me the address details.  This was a private studio located in a house at Mosman in Sydney.  At the time I was living in an outer western suburb of Sydney and was in the middle of cooking dinner for myself so I explained that it would take a while for me to get there.  He said that it was urgent so forget about cooking dinner - they would fix me up with something when I got there.

As I set out, I noticed that a thunder storm was brewing, with lots of lightening.  It began to rain.  As I drew nearer to my destination, the storm intensified.  The wind was buffeting the car, I could hear thunder crashing around me and the rain became so intense I could hardly see where I was going.  I finally found the street and spent a while driving up and down, trying to find the house.  It was very dark but finally I found what appeared to be a large old mansion at the bottom of the street.  By the time I got from my car to the front door I was drenched.  The house appeared to be in darkness and I groped around trying to find a door bell.  All I could find was a metal knocker on the door with a suitably gruesome looking figure on it.  I knocked.  No answer.  I tried again, knocking as hard as I could.  I could hear it echoing inside the house.  Bang.  Bang.  Bang.  Still no answer.  I wasn't even sure whether I was at the right house.  I fumbled for my piece of paper with the phone number written on it.  I could hardly read it as the wind nearly blew it out of my hand.  I called the owner on my mobile and told him I had arrived.  "I'll be right down" he said.

What seemed like five minutes later, the door opened and I was greeted by the owner.  He led me through the reception vestibule, through a huge lounge room into a formal dining room, where I was served with a rather impressive meal and a glass of wine.  He said that he had better get back to work and to just come up the stairs to the studio when I was finished.

I found myself alone, sitting at the end of a large, long dining table, looking out to sea through huge bay windows.  Outside, the storm was raging - rain beating against the stained glass windows and blinding flashes of lightening contrasting starkly with the dimly lit room.  I could see eerie shadows cast by the trees being thrown around outside as the wind howled.  The room shook as the thunder crashed.  Now I am not a superstitious person, but found myself thinking that this was just like being in a scene right out of a horror movie!

"They say this house is haunted" came a voice from right next to me.  Startled, I turned around and there was a ten year old boy standing there.  I had not heard him walk in because of the sickening noise from the raging storm outside.  "Ask my dad.  He'll tell you stories about lots of strange things that have happened in this house."

I finally managed to find the studio upstairs after wandering around the extensive hallways for a while.  I began checking the console but was unable to find any sign of noise.  The owner agreed that the noise had gone away.

Whilst checking the console, I took the opportunity to ask about the strange events that had occurred in the house.  He told me of how the fireplace in the dining room had unexpectedly burst into flames one day in front of thirteen people.  I suggested that maybe somebody had thrown a cigarette butt into it.  He said that nobody smoked in the house and this was the first time they had set the fireplace ready to be used that night.  He told me how lights got mysteriously switched on.  There was an old wind-up gramophone downstairs and apparently it would just start playing by itself in the middle of the night.  It takes physical effort to operate one of these things.  For a start, it has to be manually wound up.  You have to lift the heavy pickup onto the record and release the play mechanism.  Apparently he had to get up three times one night to turn it off!  Often, they would hear floor boards creaking as if somebody was walking around.  One day, the tape machine went into record mode by itself and erased a vital vocal track in front of several people during a mixdown session without anybody touching it.  Speaker boxes had this habit of falling over, for no apparent reason.  In fact, several months later, I had to repair the tape machine because it had been severely damaged by a large speaker falling on top of it.  While there could have been rational explanations for some of these events, the owner felt that too many things had happened for these to be a co-incidence.

The house was built in the early 1900's and had been the venue for numerous parties in its day.  Apparently somebody died in the house under mysterious circumstances and there was speculation of suicide.  The house had been uninhabited for many years.  There were reports of people seeing a figure dressed in a military style uniform...

The noise in the console was never found.