The end of the summer sun was starting to bed. Walking in the Stratford Street Street, with its red brick buildings and their rusty fire exhausts, I already felt transported over time. The humidity of the day decreased with a light breeze to accommodate the night. It could not have been a more perfect night for a Stratford Walk ghost.
Our group gathered outside the Café Bar & Inn of Edison, just before the chronometer hit at 8 p.m. The twilight has settled. I turned to find out our possible guide, I don’t know what to expect. Then, as if he left the Palaté de Perth justice palace, came a pair. White faces, darkened eyes – by time or makeup, I chose not to think. She in a pale pink dress, with crinoline creating a form of bell, and a hood that shouted, she had left before her time. He with simple black pants, a black vest and a peasant blouse. At the top of his head a sad and black hat, and rocked a small guitar in his arms. He struck an air as they floated towards us with big eyes. They were euphemia and Edward. Ghosts of Stratford, here to bring us back in time to discover the dark and haunted past of Stratford.
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Our Walk Ghost Stratford began in front of the Café Bar & Inn of Edison, where it turns out that Thomas Edison lived. Edison briefly lived in Stratford in adolescence. He worked for the Grand Trunk Railway. But after an almost tragic accident, caused by his negligence, he quickly returned with his parents to the United States.
While the darkness covered the streets of downtown Stratford, we were led through the river and on the Hallow field. Standing in front of the dark Anglican church of St. James, built in 1870, with tombstones flank the path on which we were, the euphemia spoke of heartbreaking tales. Premature burial tales. Yes, people were terribly buried alive on the ground in front of us. After nightmare stories of people with bloody nails by desperately digging their wooden boxes, I narrowed at the back of the group. Suffocating people due to the lack of oxygen. I even dared to try to imagine this horror. But because of these horrible events, instruments have been put in place to make sure you have not been buried alive. Like bells so that you ring and, hope, alert someone.
Our ghostly guides really knew how to define the moment. Euphemia with its lively and muffled account. Apported with Edward’s guitar, an echo close to my racing heart rate. And always, his big dart eyes. I could barely tear my eyes from her from her, sometimes, penetrating the gaze.
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By staying close, we have come in one of the historic residential districts of Stratford, going back to the 1860s. Here, we stopped before William Buckingham’s house. Built in 1880, in an Italianist design, we all looked in the upstairs window, with the only light on the house. It is said that he is haunted by a young girl who killed herself inside. It was striking the number of houses, simple or large in design, which would be haunted in this quiet area. But with their age, it was not a surprise, there is also a past.
One of the big houses we stopped in front was the Maison Annie Macpherson. A two -story building with dormitories that looked at us. It was the quintessence of a haunted classic house. This heritage house formerly housed English orphans, dating back to 1869, which were brought abroad for a “better life”. Unfortunately, I don’t think many have found this “better life”. It is said that some of the children have never really left and always haunt their corridors.
With an accelerated pace, we wandered along the river. The only light from Edward’s little flashlight. The night was even darker and made more oppressive after stories of ghosts that haunt the edge of the river. One of the ghosts of Stratford was a headless man who haunts the banks of the Avon river.
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The next judgment was the new old prison. Built in 1886, it was held with strange size windows and other strange architectural details. It was not just a prison. He also had a sick room and a mental service. One of her ghosts is a young girl from this sick district who died of scarlet fever.
Our latest judgment on our Walk Ghost Stratford was the courthouse of the county of Perth Spooky and, at night. We were standing at the base of the courts of the courthouse, rushing into a golden light. But just behind us stood from top to spruce whose branches seemed to cry with the last haunted story. It turns out that Stratford had his own Jack The Ripper just after the horrible attacks in London, in 1894. A derirator named Almede Chattelle was found guilty of the murder of Jessie Keith, 13. She was found mutilated, a throat slit and the abdomen cut, just like the victims of Jack The Ripper. Chattelle became the first man to be hanged in Stratford prison, with hundreds of participants.
Okay, so maybe I’m a bit melodramatic. But I like ghost walks. And I love to be carried away by the pure theater of this one. THE Stratford ghosts Ghost Walk is set up by players from the Theater School playmakers. These theatrical walking visits take place during the summer, as well as at the end of October for Halloween.
There are a few different tours to choose from the tour of God’s Acre, which is the one we have taken, on a pub tour, pils and spirits where you can enjoy a few pints with haunted taverns stories. And of course, you can also enjoy a Stratford ghost walk for Halloween!
I was a guest of Visit Stratford and ghosts of Stratford Ghost Walk. But as always, all opinions are mine.
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