The Horror of Rutherglen Main Street
Glasgow and its surrounding area’s are steeped in ancient history, events that helped shape the city of today. However some of the events in question will have been less than savoury, many incidents nefarious, and plenty of historical chapters horrific.
In many cultures, it is said that if a person dies an agonising death or suffers greatly during their life, their soul will unable to find resting peace, and ultimately face roaming the earth between the realms of the living and the dead, tormented until they find solace in the darkness of the afterlife.
In fiction there is always a little truth, and with that Glasgow Living brings you. Urban Ghost Stories; Glasgow’s haunted past.
Starting just on the outskirts of Glasgow, we begin our journey in Rutherglen. An ancient Royal Burgh that has a history lasting longer than 1400 years.
A middle age woman was working away, minding her own business, cleaning the twelve rooms on the top floor of a residential care home.
Working alone, carrying on with her duties, she had always enjoyed the tranquil nature of working in solitude, some people liked to work with headphones in their ears, not her however, she enjoyed the silence. On this particular night, she had a foreboding sense of dread. Something was amiss. Something was troubling her.
Late into her night-shift one evening, she couldn’t quite shake a feeling of nervous fear that she had been carrying with her all day. The unnamed woman couldn’t quite understand why no matter what she tried, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling gnawing away at her, in the very pit of her stomach.
Whether it be the cold, dark, rainy night, that she could always glimpse just out of the corner of her eye. Rapping ominously on the window outside. How she wished for a pair of headphones at that minute. The window blind, although almost fully declined, still failed to protect her from the menacing darkness outside, slowly creeping in through the window.
No, it was something else, something in the corridor, possibly even in the room with her, a feeling of someone or something, watching, waiting.
What this vulnerable woman also became aware of was that every so often, the hairs on the back of her neck would creep up and stand on edge, however she was suffering no chill and none of the windows in any of the rooms she had visited appeared to be open.
To add to her unease, every time she walked into a new room to continue her vocational duties, the lights would flicker off and on, off and on, ever so slightly, almost un-noticeable, but she did notice, and it was becoming gradually more apparent. It happened every time she entered a room and each time the light flickered just slightly longer. Almost as if the darkness was eating away at the faltering light.
It seemed to her that the darkness was growing, as if an unknown presence was trying to rid the room of the safe, reassuring, nourishment of light.
She began to feel faint. Trying at first to ignore it and carry on, the feeling quickly became all consuming, it was all she could think about, with unconsciousness looming, she reached out to steady herself on the oak bedside table, bracing for impact against the solid wood bedroom furniture, she slumped forward.
As she fell forward, she expected to feel the table, strike strongly against her hand, but to her horror the table skimmed along the floor and smashed against the wall, instantly rising to her feet, fuelled by shock, adrenaline and fear, she could only turn in terror as she heard what appeared to be the door handles on every door, along the lengthy corridor, rattle repeatedly up and down.
Reeling, she staggered backwards as blood began to seep from the walls.
Fearing for her life the woman abandoned the room and facing incomprehensible terror, began sprinting down the corridor, the lights flickering off behind her. Running past each of the twelve rooms, she could see they had been completely destroyed, tables broken, beds torn into shreds and upon reaching the final room, prior to the stairs, there hung, a single, solitary, ghostly figure, face etched in agony, pointing directly at the distraught care home worker.
Unsurprisingly the terrified woman never went back to the care-home and soon, the company that owned it, was forced to bring in a local priest from St Columbkille’s Chapel to perform an exorcism, as more and more employees, were being tormented by the unknown apparition.
Upon iniating a historical investigation, the owners learned that the care-home had been built on an old monastery, there was also a druids graveyard adjacent to where the care-home was built, and close to that, a Roman Tumulis (Roman burial chamber).
During further investigation they discovered there was a secret tunnel between both the burial chamber and the druids graveyard, it ran directly below where the care home now stood.
To the carehome management’s horror, it appeared that the deceased were attempting to make their way between the burial chamber and the druids graveyard and found themselves trapped between the dominions of the living and the dead.