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Originally written by Duncan.
Chat Moss is just a few hundred yards off Astley road. We were digging for bottles (Victorian bottles, that is-the type with a marble in the neck!?) Anyway, we weren't supposed to be there, so we'd waited for a dark foggy night in winter. Such a night came so arrangements were swiftly made and off we went. We went up on bikes instead of cars, which we then hid in bushes about a mile from the dig-site. Instead of walking down roads, we walked out into the field about two hundred yards and proceeded to walk parallel to the road.
We did this to avoid farmyards inhabited with dogs as well as possible traffic. I think, to the best of my knowledge, that we covered our tracks well. No-one could have known or seen us, I'm pretty much one hundred percent certain. We didn't even talk! At the dig-site one of us dug, one held a small torch, which with the beam directed into a hole is quite undetectable/unseeable? Invisible may be the word. The other kept watch.
After a few minutes, the lad on watch came through the copse whispering "Lads...there's someone watching us". Walking back through the copse, looking into the field, there was the shape of a person out into the field. It's hard to describe seeing a shape in fog in the middle of the night, however, with the light pollution from the city of Manchester, it gives a purple-ish color to the fog, in which we could see the definite shape of a person.
They were stood twenty five yards away out into the field from which we'd walked not long before. It stood motionless as did we. If it was one of the local farmers, I'm sure he'd have had a few hands with him, or at least a torch and quite possibly a gun. I can't see it having been a tramp, as if you could see the location, it was quite inhospitable country...even for a tramp. It was a very scary situation. I told the lads to stay calm...as I thought if we run, I'm the slowest runner and it'll get me.
We walked back through the copse and along the side of a ditch. This duly led to a dirt track road which in turn led back to the aforementioned farms. Once we'd got so far down this road, we ran, like the wind. We ran straight through the farmyards, the ones we'd done our utmost to avoid. The dogs went wild but we just kept running.
We got our bikes and literally fled in terror. I've never been back there since and nor would I...certainly not on a dark foggy night. This happened about fifteen years ago. The reason it's come up now is that one of the lads who was with me that night has recited the story to his niece, who in turn asked me about it a few nights ago. He was quite convinced that he'd seen a ghost and as for that... so was I!
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