A few years ago, when I was 18, I was dating a girl in Edinburgh. The city is rich in history, making ghost tours common. One tour, "City of the Dead," is particularly famous for its well-documented case of a poltergeist known as the Mackenzie Poltergeist. After reading the book by the tour's founder, I was eager to experience it.
The tour begins with stories around Edinburgh, but the real adventure starts at the Covenanters' Prison, a small cemetery. Here lies the Black Mausoleum, home to the poltergeist. Many visitors report cold spots in the tomb, and some have left with unexplained cuts and welts appearing later. A key part of the tour involves being locked inside the tiny mausoleum for ten minutes. While inside the sandstone tomb, I felt things touching me and heard scratching noises on the walls and ceiling. While such experiences might not be uncommon on this tour, what happened afterward truly haunts me.
After the tour, I left the graveyard to walk home. As I exited, I felt a heavy presence accompany me—a weight on my back, though not physically there. This sensation lasted the entire long walk home. Back at the flat, we thought we were alone except for the cats. Soon, however, I sensed a man's presence standing in the kitchen. Being sensitive to such things, I knew it wasn't my imagination.
Carrying the cat for courage (as the girl stayed behind), I moved toward the kitchen and entered the hall. Our flat was usually warm as a furnace, but a freezing cold spot in the hall took my breath away. I retreated to the bedroom. The truly frightening part was that my girlfriend, who isn't usually sensitive, described feeling the same presence in the hall—matching my impression of a tall man with long, greasy hair, though I couldn't see his face.
To this day, I don't know what followed me home. I was terrified then, and I'd rather not find out.