Emma Diane McManus
Hi! I’m Emma from Northern Ireland. I’m a tattooed, ghost hunting semi-professional photographer and aspiring author.
My Miniature Schnauzer, Chester, who sadly had to be put to sleep two years ago and cross the Rainbow Bridge at age thirteen, after suffering three sudden seizures. He was named after the amazing Linkin Park rockstar Chester Bennington (who past away four years ago. May he rest in peace).
There is nowhere better to eat in my town, Dundonald in Northern Ireland, than Blue Chicago Grill. It is the perfect restaurant for families, romantic dates, last minute dinner ideas or large gatherings. The food is great British food with some American twists. You have your massive burgers that you can’t get your mouth around, your classic fish and chips, lasagne, buffalo wings, steak cooked to your liking, chicken goujons… everything you could possibly want; and more!
I slowly opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. My head was throbbing and I had a ringing in my ears. The lighting was so dim that it took my eyes several minutes to acclimate to the gloom. I slowly sat up and winched in agony. I clutched my hand to my side and let out a small whimper, the pain was so intense that I couldn’t even manage a scream. I gingerly lifted up my shirt and saw that I had a bandage haphazardly wrapped around my lower abdomen. The part of my side that I had touched had faint traces of red soaking through. I lowered my shirt and looked around at my surroundings but there wasn’t much to look at. I was sitting on a bed that was like an extension of the wall with an old stained mattress on it. There was a small desk and chair facing me and a small bedside table right by the bed with a rusty lamp on top of it. I shuffled over to the lamp, clenching my jaw every time I moved too quickly. I pushed the switch on and tilted the light up to get a better look at the room I was in and regretted it.
A melodic shrill woke me from my sleep. I wasn’t long in bed having just completed a nightshift. I turned onto my back and rubbed my eyes. I turned my head to see my phone lighting up. The melodic shrill was my ringtone. I’d forgotten to put it on vibrate. I grunted and glanced just in time to see it said private number. I shrugged and settled back into my pillows. Barely a minute later the phone started ringing again. I covered my face with a pillows then threw it across the room and grabbed my phone.
The Towns Haunted House
Every small town has that one “haunted” house that kids circulate scary stories about for generations. Our town has one that used to be an asylum, so you can guess some of the stories that have emerged. It had also become like a right of passage that groups of brave (or stupid, depending on how you look at these things) kids had to spend an hour alone in a room of the once grand Victorian home.
Titanic Dry Dock and Pump House Paranormal Tales
NIPRA (Northern Ireland Paranormal Research Association, Northern Ireland’s first and longest running paranormal investigating team) ran tours at the famous Titanic Dry Dock and Pump House for over four years and in that time we got to experience some incredible activity.