Misty

[dem bones]

Dec 30, 2022 19:54:16 GMT Swampirella said:

The Potter Heigham story is told in more detail in the entertaining but fallacious Chas. Sampson's "Ghosts of the Broads" described n the Vault's True Ghost Library.

Dec 30, 2022 22:36:28 GMT andydecker said:

If you keep posting these I will be compelled to buy one of those Rebellion reprints of Misty after all. :-)

Dec 31, 2022 1:27:06 GMT helrunar said:

These are amazing! I love the art and the fact that the readers were collecting and submitting the stories for this feature.
cheers, Hel.

Wonder how many readers developed a love for 'true' ghost stories having first been exposed to them in Misty? I'd love to see them compiled into a special. Even if the stories were written by staff writers, they've as much a claim to being The People's Ghost Stories as anything that made Richard Felix's astonishing book.

Dec 31, 2022 17:01:15 GMT ripper said:

I had to laugh at the mother's reaction to seeing a ghost at the end of the bed in the story about the book. What does she do? Lock the room to make sure no-one else has such a frightening experience? Nah, just swap rooms with her kids and problem solved!

It's lovely that it ends on a happy note in Dunstable.

[dem bones]

******MY STAR LETTER******

One day in December 1977 I went to my bedroom and saw in the doorway a lady wearing a long grey dress and a green bonnet. She was smiling at me with her arms folded. I ran downstairs scared. My parents didn't believe me at first. Next time I saw her I was watching TV in my room and about 9 p.m. I looked towards the door and she was standing there again, looking very solid, dressed the same way, white faced, still smiling but with her arms at her side. I could see no feet. Her eyes were very blue and she looked plump and about 40 years old. I remembered my parents had told me to speak to her if I saw her again so as it was my birthday the following Thursday I said 'Can I have Thursday off?'. She said in a broad accent 'Ask yer Nanny'. I was so shocked I jumped out of bed and hid behind the dressing table. At last I peeped round the leg of the table and could see her grey dress wafting out floating. A little later Dad came upstairs and took me downstairs, trembling and with my teeth chattering and very scared. We have since identified the ghost from an old photograph. It is my great great grandmother.

P. ATHERTON, Hyde Cheshire, Misty #9, 1 April 1978

***********

When I was only two months old my family moved into a terraced house on an estate near Maidstone. It had been only recently built when we moved in, not the sort of place you expect to be haunted.
As I grew older I began to feel there was somebody watching me whenever I was in either the bedroom or the bathroom, both on the upper floor. The rest of my family also had this feeling although we knew there was nobody there.

Whenever we had any pets they ran away or died. I also noticed everyone had some kind of accident - every year that we were in the house. My mother had to have an operation, my brother had really bad appendicitis so that the doctors had to fight for his life, and my little sister was in hospital three times.

Sometimes when Mum and Dad went to bed they found the hatch to the loft had been removed.

I frequently had dreams about pixies building an object, and one always fell off the scaffolding.

When at last we moved we discovered that while. - working on our house one of the builders had fallen - from scaffolding on the roof, broken his neck and died.

CONAN LANGLANDS, MAIDSTONE, KENT. Misty #11, 15 April 1978

***********

One night I was sitting in my Dad's office at work and I heard footsteps. When I asked Dad if he could hear them, too, he just replied: "Don't worry, it's only old 'five-to-five: "Then he told me the awful story.

Many years ago a man had worked at the firm for whom my Dad now works and had, in fact, spent all his working days there. He always said that when he died he would never leave the factory but guard it for ever.

When his wife died he was so tormented with grief he eventually ended it all by taking one of the factory's loading chains, putting it round his neck, and with one end tied to a hook jumped off a ledge. And now his spirit still walks the factory and is often heard at five to five just before it's time for the workers to go home.

CHRIS FREEMAN, BLANTYRE, LANARKSHIRE, Misty #11, 15 April 1978

***********

Not long ago, a friend's father was asked to help organise a children's party. It was decided to play "hide and seek" first, so while a little boy counted, everyone went to hide.
Mr. Crenshaw hid in an empty cupboard, or at least he thought it was empty.
Inside was a little girl - her long hair in ringlets and wearing a long dress. Mr. Crenshaw thought she was one of the children at the party, until she disappeared before his eyes.
Later the owner of the house told him that a lonely, little Victorian girl had been playing when she found a secret staircase behind the cupboard, but had fallen and broken her neck.
Had she come back to find someone to play with? Mr. Crenshaw thinks so.

RHONA COULTER KILMARNOCK, SCOTLAND, Misty #22, 1 July 1978

LOST YOUR MARBLES?
My sister and I were playing calling back spirits and we decided to call on Laurel and Hardy because they are friendly and funny. But as we called them suddenly my 300 marbles fell out of the cupboard and rolled all over the floor. We have not tried calling back anybody else since!

Vicky Butterill, LEEDS 14, Misty #22, 1 July 1978

[Swampirella]

Jan 3, 2023 19:50:15 GMT dem bones said:

******MY STAR LETTER******

One day in December 1977 I went to my bedroom and saw in the doorway a lady wearing a long grey dress and a green bonnet. She was smiling at me with her arms folded. I ran downstairs scared. My parents didn't believe me at first. Next time I saw her I was watching TV in my room and about 9 p.m. I looked towards the door and she was standing there again, looking very solid, dressed the same way, white faced, still smiling but with her arms at her side. I could see no feet. Her eyes were very blue and she looked plump and about 40 years old. I remembered my parents had told me to speak to her if I saw her again so as it was my birthday the following Thursday I said 'Can I have Thursday off?'. She said in a broad accent 'Ask yer Nanny'. I was so shocked I jumped out of bed and hid behind the dressing table. At last I peeped round the leg of the table and could see her grey dress wafting out floating. A little later Dad came upstairs and took me downstairs, trembling and with my teeth chattering and very scared. We have since identified the ghost from an old photograph. It is my great great grandmother.

P. ATHERTON, Hyde Cheshire, Misty #9

***********

When I was only two months old my family moved into a terraced house on an estate near Maidstone. It had been only recently built when we moved in, not the sort of place you expect to be haunted.
As I grew older I began to feel there was somebody watching me whenever I was in either the bedroom or the bathroom, both on the upper floor. The rest of my family also had this feeling although we knew there was nobody there.

Whenever we had any pets they ran away or died. I also noticed everyone had some kind of accident - every year that we were in the house. My mother had to have an operation, my brother had really bad appendicitis so that the doctors had to fight for his life, and my little sister was in hospital three times.

Sometimes when Mum and Dad went to bed they found the hatch to the loft had been removed.

I frequently had dreams about pixies building an object, and one always fell off the scaffolding.

When at last we moved we discovered that while. - working on our house one of the builders had fallen - from scaffolding on the roof, broken his neck and died.

CONAN LANGLANDS, MAIDSTONE, KENT. Misty #11

***********

One night I was sitting in my Dad's office at work and I heard footsteps. When I asked Dad if he could hear them, too, he just replied: "Don't worry, it's only old 'five-to-five: "Then he told me the awful story.

Many years ago a man had worked at the firm for whom my Dad now works and had, in fact, spent all his working days there. He always said that when he died he would never leave the factory but guard it for ever.

When his wife died he was so tormented with grief he eventually ended it all by taking one of the factory's loading chains, putting it round his neck, and with one end tied to a hook jumped off a ledge. And now his spirit still walks the factory and is often heard at five to five just before it's time for the workers to go home.

CHRIS FREEMAN, BLANTYRE, LANARKSHIRE, Misty #11

***********

Not long ago, a friend's father was asked to help organise a children's party. It was decided to play "hide and seek" first, so while a little boy counted, everyone went to hide.
Mr. Crenshaw hid in an empty cupboard, or at least he thought it was empty.
Inside was a little girl - her long hair in ringlets and wearing a long dress. Mr. Crenshaw thought she was one of the children at the party, until she disappeared before his eyes.
Later the owner of the house told him that a lonely, little Victorian girl had been playing when she found a secret staircase behind the cupboard, but had fallen and broken her neck.
Had she come back to find someone to play with? Mr. Crenshaw thinks so.

RHONA COULTER KILMARNOCK, SCOTLAND, Misty #22

LOST YOUR MARBLES?
My sister and I were playing calling back spirits and we decided to call on Laurel and Hardy because they are friendly and funny. But as we called them suddenly my 300 marbles fell out of the cupboard and rolled all over the floor. We have not tried calling back anybody else since!

Vicky Butterill, LEEDS 14, Misty #22

What great stories, thanks for posting, Dem!

[dem bones]

CISSYGATE

IS HE A CISSY?
Yesterday my sister bought 'Misty'. I read it through twice and thought it was great. In fact I like it so much I want to order it, but one small problem is I'm a boy and I'll feel a cissy. Can you help me?

Sean Newton, Penzance, Cornwall, Misty #8, 25 March 1978

TOO OLD FOR 'MISTY'?
I've ordered a regular copy of 'Misty' at the newsagent even though my friends say I'm too old to read it at thirteen. I suppose I'm slightly older than most girls who read 'Misty' but why should I miss out on all the great stories in it?

Louise Sinclair, Chedgrave, Norwich


Don't worry, Louise. My post shows I've readers all ages from seven to twenty-one and that's not even counting all the Mums who get caught taking a peek. — Misty.

Misty #10, 8 April 1978

WHO'S CISSY NOW?
I've read all your comics and I think it's the best comic out. Misty scares me ... that's why I like it. My brother called me a cissy when I told him how scarey it was. One night I put a copy on his bed and in the morning he did not call me a cissy. And he still doesn't.

FIORELLA ROSSI, FOLKESTONE, KENT, Misty #12, 22 April 1978

MISTY DAD
About the boy who feels he might be thought a cissy buying 'Misty' wait till he hears this! My Dad enjoys the comic and sneaks into my bedroom to get it before I've had the chance to read it. So boys stop feeling cissies and get to your newsagents for an ordered copy, I say.

Colette Hardman BOLTON, Lancs.

And well said, too — Misty Misty #17, 27 May 1978

MISTY STUDENT
Although a second-year student in University I sighted your comic in a newsagent and bought it just to see what girls read these days. I was fascinated by it and have been buying it ever since. So if a second year student can read it I don't feel Sean Newton or thirteen-year-olds need feel too bad about liking it. I say —
keep up the good work — it's a good weekly for anyone to read.

Patricia Tierney St. Margaret's Co. Dubin. Misty #22, 1 July 1978

***********

Not at Night

I have tried out lots and lots of comics but I think yours is best. It is exciting and mysterious and it gives you nightmares if you read it in bed at night. also think the letter you put at the beginning is good because it sets you in the right scary atmosphere to read your stories,but I would appreciate it if you put the most scary stories at the beginning and the less scary ones at the end so's I can get to sleep at night.

ELIZABETH TRING (AGE 9), BENFLEET, ESSEX, Misty #26, 29 July 1978

***********

I don't suppose you'll print this, you're probably too cowardly, but I want to tell you I think your comic is appalling, really awful and makes me want to be sick. Your comic should be banned. I expected the comic to be about witches and spooky but nice stories. But no. Take for instance your 15th July issue with the pet shop story. It upset me, — the poor mouse — and I know many girls feel the same way so make the comic better and print this letter.

P.S. Get this printed!

Jennifer, OLD GOOLE, YORKS.

I have printed this because it is the only letter like it I have received since Misty started. I feel exactly like you about the mouse, Jennifer, and if you had read on you would have found the thoughtless, unkind children received their just desserts. That was the whole point of the story. But what do other readers think? — Misty

Misty # 34, 23 September 1978

[cauldronbrewer]

Dec 30, 2022 19:39:40 GMT dem bones said:

More true ghosts from Misty

Thank you for the Misty stories. The illustrations are great, as usual--the one above in particular.

[dem bones]

Jan 8, 2023 1:24:54 GMT cauldronbrewer said:

The illustrations are great, as usual--the one above in particular.

Have edited original post to credit the artist, Siân Cardy, who also provided the illustration for the Cauld Boy ... and, most likely other reports from These Misty Isles. Will try add some more at a later date.

[dem bones]

SEAL ROCK
A MISTY COMPLETE STORY

I was fourteen when I first saw the island. I had been born there, but Dad had taken me to Glasgow as a baby, to be brought up by his sister, for my mother had left us. No-one ever spoke of her. I had never been back, till I needed sea air after a long illness, and Dad took me to my grandparents.

Their croft was near the shore, and there, for the first time, I saw seals. I would watch them, lying out there on sunny days, but their favourite place was a rocky islet a little way out in the bay. Grand-dad told me it was called Craig an Ron, the Seal Rock. I longed to go and explore it — There was a causeway where one could cross at low tide — but Grand-dad wouldn't hear of it.

"No, lassie," he said, sternly. "Dinna go out yonder. The tide comes in so quick."

I contented myself with exploring the shore, but something always seemed to draw me back to the causeway. Sometimes, above the voice of the sea, I heard another sound, a murmur that rose and fell, like people humming a sad, haunting tune.

"The seals are singing," Grannie would say.

One fine evening the humming seemed louder and more insistent than ever. My grandparents were out, and I went down to the causeway.

The tide was out, the rocks clear and dry. I could see the seals out there, and wondered if they would let me come close to them. The singing grew louder. Something drew me powerfully to the islet. I don't think anything could have stopped me then.

I reached the islet and there were seals everywhere, on the ledges, and the little beach. They lay perfectly still watching me. I climbed up and looked around. I saw more seals behind me, where there had been none before.

Some of them moved towards me. Wet bodies and whiskery muzzles brushed against my legs. They seemed friendly enough, but they moved on me, forcing me to go where they wanted. If I turned, there was a seal in the way. If I stopped, I would be pushed from behind. Suddenly I was very frightened. Where were they taking me? What did they want? I tried to cry out, but no sound came.

Across the islet we went to where the ledge dropped sharply to the sea. Damp bodies pressed against my legs and I plunged into the water.

At first the cold took my breath away, but as I started to swim, it left me, and, strangely, so did my fear. Never before had I felt so much at home in the water, or swum with so little effort. The seals were all round me, guiding me on and on.

Dusk was falling as we came to another rock-girt island. As I came out of the water a very large, stout seal flopped across the beach. Her muzzle was grey and her movements stiff. She looked into my face and then she spoke, yes, spoke, with a woman's voice. I didn't even find it strange.

"Child," she said, "little earthborn daughter!"

"I — I don't understand, "I faltered.

"Listen now, and I'll tell you," she went on. "Did you know that we can take human form at times? Well, when I was young, I loved to go ashore with my sisters. We would shed our skins and dance in the moonlight. Joy it was to move easily on land.

"One night, a young man was watching. He took my skin and hid it. My sisters fled back to the sea, but I was left behind."

"Was he — my father, then?"

"The very same. I cried and pleaded, but he took me to his house. I became his wife and we had a child."

She paused and looked at me, her great eyes searching my face — She was my mother, and no-one had told me.

"Your father was good to me," she went on, "but still I longed for the sea. One hot day some children brought my skin to me. I put it on and hurried back to the sea. But how I missed you, my child."

"Could you not come back to us?"

"Not now, but you shall come to me. See, the change is already working in you — you shall stay!"

"Stay where?" I cried.

"With me, in the sea — one of the sea people!"

"Oh no!" I cried, as the truth dawned on me.

Already I felt different — I must hurry. Panic-stricken, I looked for escape. There was one gap in the serried ranks of the seals, where a steep outcrop of rock led up to the hills. I ran for it, reaching just in time to haul myself up beyond the questing muzzles. At the top I ran wildly, till seeing a light, I made for a lonely cottage. The old couple there took me in.

As she gave me a cup of tea, the woman pointed at my hands, with horror in her eyes. I looked down. My fingers were joined by a thin web of skin!

THE END

Misty #67, 19 May 1979

[helrunar]

This was great, and it's based on very familiar folk-lore--there are some good recent tales concerning the selkies, too.

Misty seems to have had some unusually offbeat and cool material tucked away in its pages. Thanks again for sharing this latest nugget!

cheers, Hel.

[dem bones]

Monday on These Misty Isles

The Grave Robbers ...

In Stevenage Old Town there is a coffin in the rafters of one of the banks.
Over two hundred years ago as Henry Trigg was going home late one night he saw some grave robbers at work as he passed the churchyard. The sight made him determined that when he died his body should rest safe and so he gave orders in his will that his coffin must be lined with lead and placed in the loft of his home where he finally died in 1724.
Years later when the house was converted to an inn the coffin was still in the rafters with Henry's Trigg's body inside. During the First World War soldiers broke open the coffin and took the bones for souvenirs and as recently as May 1970 a workman at the inn, which has now become a bank, saw a man dressed in old fashioned grocer's dress disappear through a wall. Other visitors have also caught sight of the phantom which is believed to be the ghost of Henry Trigg.

Anne Baker Misty #34, Sept. 23 1978.

LEICESTERSHIRE legends tell of two tombs which bleed. One is Richard Smith's, a popular young saddler, who was killed at Hinckley in April 1727 for making a joke.

An army recruiting sergeant was accusing a crowd of lack of loyalty to George I. To their amusement, Richard answered that their local tavern, The George, was named after the Dragon Saint, not in honour of the King.

The angry soldier charged at Richard, pinning him through the heart to a tree with his pike, then escaped.

Now, each April, strange red drops of moisture appear on Richard's tombstone and trickle down over the inscription like tears of blood.

NEAR MELTON MOWBRAY, in Oliver Cromwell's time, lived Sir Roger Smith, whose second wife, the mysterious dark-eyed beauty Lady Ann, was suspected locally of witchcraft.

One moonlit night, John the Head servant watched her return alone on horseback, and was telling the story to the cook the next day while chopping meat.

Suddenly a large black cat sprang at him, clawing his face. Shielding himself he accidentally cut the animal's left paw, and it disappeared leaving behind bloodstains on the kitchen floor which could not be removed.

To his horror at dinner Lady Ann appeared with her left arm bandaged, and withered him with her cold stare.

A coincidence, perhaps, but on Sir Roger's church tomb, from the left wrist of his wife and down over her robe runs a dark red stain, dyed deep into the alabaster.

Joy Childs, Leicester. Misty #16, May 20 1978.

[helrunar]

Great stories. 25 pounds was rather a handsome prize back when those mags were out.

Of course you know I love the story of the lady who was a Witch-wife and wound up losing a hand when spying on her kitchen staff in Puss form. There are so many stories like that in folklore not only in the British Isles, but on the Continent, and over here in the US, too. Manly Wade Wellman's Silver John tale "O Ugly Bird!" is an excellent re-working of this kind of tale into a very capably composed yarn.

cheers, Hel.

[cauldronbrewer]

I just saw an announcement for another Misty collection from Rebellion Publishing, scheduled for September 2023: Misty: 45 Years of Fear.

[dem bones]

Phantom of the Highway

Some of the most romantic figures of 17th Century England were the highwaymen, whose cry of "Stand and Deliver" brought fear to all those who travelled the lonely country lanes on their long journeys from town to town. Dick Turpin and others may have been more famous, but one of the most notorious robbers was a woman, Catherine Ferrers of Markyate.

The beautiful Catherine was married in her teens to a much older man whom she disliked intensely.

He was wealthy, and although she had all the luxuries she could wish for, she found country life tedious.

Craving excitement she took to robbing coaches on nearby Watling Street. Disguised in the conventional cape, hat and mask she would mount her magnificent black horse and in the dim twilight await her victims. Soon her exploits were legend. As her bold robberies increased, so did the size of the booty, as the wealthy travellers parted with jewels and cash. She had no need of the spoils, after each hold-up she simply locked them away, with her disguise, in a secret room above the kitchen at her home of Markyate Cell. Her luck could not last one night near St. Albans she was shot, many say by her lover, who was probably also a highwayman.

Catherine's wounds were fatal, but she managed to stagger back to her house where she died in the arms of her husband. After sealing the secret room, he arranged for a quiet burial, hoping she would be forgotten. She wasn't — hoofbeats were heard along neighbouring country lanes at night, a ghostly figure in cape and mask mounted on a black charger was observed leaping hedgerows. Catherine's form was seen regularly on the staircase of the house or in one of the many trees in the Markyate grounds. Later, owners of the property got so used to her presence they would courteously bid her goodnight.

Earlier this century a garden party at the house was disrupted when a frightened guest pointed aghast at a nearby tree, where Catherine could be seen in flowing gown shrieking with laughter. Men, women, children, tables loaded with food and drink were scattered in all directions. Rumour has it that Catherine started a serious fire in the house in 1840, then haunted the poor men who came to repair the damage.

At night hoofbeats are still heard in country lanes around Markyate where locals say Catherine Ferrers can still be seen. She has been accepted as a ghost with a sense of humour, still strikingly beautiful and still dressed in the clothes of the period. In the late 1940's a British film called "The Wicked Lady" and based on Catherine's life was released and was immensely successful with cinemagoers.

— Misty, 5 August 1978.

[andydecker]

These text stories you have presented  have grown on me. For such a throwaway feature and to just fill gaps they were very well done.

As I have seen there will be a another Misty collection from Rebellion in September. Misty: 45 Years of Fear. A rather expensive hardcover. There seem to be only one story included which already has been reprinted: Moonchild.

[𝘗rincess 𝘵uvstarr]

Interesting that they were doing these in 2020. Were they all new stories?

[The Lurker In The Shadows]

Oct 20, 2023 12:51:00 GMT 𝘗rincess 𝘵uvstarr said:

Interesting that they were doing these in 2020. Were they all new stories?

Yes, the Treasury of British Comics produced a few Misty & Scream Specials and a Misty Winter Special, featuring new material, alongside separate collections of classic Misty strips. The most recent book is Misty: 45 Years of Fear, which includes material from the original 70s comics as well as a couple of newer strips from the specials.