Ghost and Hauntings


Ghost Story for Christmas - Haunted Tarquinia

Filed under: Ghost Stories, Spooky Experiences — loretta @ 05:58:13 pm

I thought that some of you might like to read a few of the stories I was told when I was growing up. My mother told tales about the ghosts she encountered, some from England and some from her home town in Italy.

She came from a medieval hill village on the west coast of Italy, just north of Rome. It is called Tarquinia and is named after the original Etruscan town that stood there. It is best known for the Etruscan tomb paintings on the edge of the town. It has a very long history and, according to my mother, a lot of ghosts too.

Old Tarquinia

A number of stories relate to one particular residence when my mother was a young woman. The family moved into a first floor apartment, with a large balcony. One afternoon as my grandmother was taking a siesta in her room she became aware of the sound of someone moving around the kitchen. She called out but no one answered. Yet she was quite certain that she could hear someone walking around wearing flip flops. The distinctive flick-flack sound carried on until she went to look, but of course, no one was there.

Later on she asked her daughters who was there that afternoon, why didn’t they reply when she called. They assured her it was none of them, besides they weren’t wearing flip-flops!

The distinctive footsteps were heard on several occasions by other members of the family, normally when the house was quiet and they thought they were on their own.

One day my mother was alone in the flat. She went out to the bathroom, which was reached by walking along the balcony. It was a separate wooden structure and she locked herself in. Within a few minutes she heard a knocking on the wall. She was surprised as she was sure that she was alone. She called out who was it, she would be a minute. No one replied. The knocking, or should I say banging as it was quite load, was persistent and she called out for who ever is was to stop. Maybe one of her brothers had come in and were messing around. The sound grew louder and louder, she was quite scared she was sure she had been alone. The wooden walls shook with the force and she thought the whole thing was going to collapse around her. There was nothing for it, she would have to make a dash for freedom. With the pounding still going on, she threw open the door and without looking round, ran along the balcony back to the safety of the main rooms. Just then her father returned home, he promised he had only arrived then and he never heard anything. They checked together and there was certainly no one outside. The neighbours too said they heard nothing at all, which left my mother askance as she was sure the pounding was so loud and so violent how could anyone not have heard.

Two of my aunts shared a bedroom in the apartment and soon after they had moved in the girls asked if their parents would swap bedrooms. They admitted that they couldn’t get any sleep in there, someone was always walking around. My grandfather laughed and said they must been dreaming, and they were being silly. But eventually my grandparents gave in and swapped rooms with them. It was the middle of summer and quite hot. My grandfather lay there with his legs and arms hanging out the side of the bed to cool down, thinking to himself that there was nothing wrong with the room. Suddenly some one or something clasped his hand. His daughters had been quite right, there was someone in there with them.

The family made enquiries with their neighbours about the previous owners of the apartment. One woman, who had died sometime before, was a spiritualist and carried out regular seances in the flat. Leaving the possibility, according to my mother, that she have raised ’something’ that never went back. As for the footsteps heard in the kitchen, they were told that this woman only ever wore flip flops.


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