Lest we be tempted to write off Debbie’s car troubles to something as mundane as mere mechanical or electrical failure, we should turn our attention to another automotive oddity that relates to the Cage.
The Cage has stood unmolested in its spot on Colchester Road for many hundreds of years, situated next to a village pub and just a stone’s throw from a crossroads. To the very best of our knowledge, the building has never sustained any kind of major damage, whether by accident or by design.
All of that was to change on the evening of Wednesday, July 27, 2016, when a local man lost control of his car just seconds after he had passed the road intersection. The runaway vehicle (a BMW, just as Debbie’s was) slammed headlong into the front of the Cage and the house next door, shattering not only the brickwork, but also parts of the window frame.
Fortunately, the driver was not seriously injured. When Vanessa arrived to survey the damage, she was horrified to see that large chunks of the building’s yellow exterior plaster had been smashed, littering the narrow strip of pavement directly outside. Long, jagged vertical cracks ran vertically up the front wall of the Cage, like a spider’s web of structural damage.
We are so lucky that nobody was home this afternoon, Vanessa thought to herself as she shook her head in disbelief. They could so easily have been killed.
The front end of the BMW was crumpled like a tin can. When the police officers asked the driver what exactly had happened, he had an interesting story to tell. He claimed to have just turned right at the intersection, having driven past the pub and the entrance to Coffin Alley, when suddenly the back end of the car “went nuts, spinning out of control for no reason at all.” The BMW spun out, and despite his best efforts it made a beeline for the Cage.
“I was only doing 25, maybe 30 miles per hour,” the stunned driver claimed.
Why would a car suddenly veer wildly out of control at such a relatively low speed? It is, of course, possible that the driver was simply distracted, or was actually traveling faster than his stated 30 miles per hour. Either possibility would provide a perfectly rational explanation for the collision.
On the other hand, it does seem awfully coincidental that he should suddenly lose control directly outside of what Vanessa believes with all of her heart to be a truly cursed building. “The curse of the Cage strikes again, was my first thought when I heard the news,” she says. The Cage is a relatively small building, and it is only one of many similarly sized houses along that same stretch of road. Any of them could have been hit. And yet, none of them were hit: only the Cage.
Coincidence—or something more?
You be the judge.
Ultimately, I found a little bungalow to rent back in St Osyth and was able to move back into the village of my childhood.
Kelly returned to the house many times over the following months to try and ease the darkness it held within its walls and to make it a safer place altogether. The activity in the house did not abate with the passing of time, and it seemed as though the more interest that was shown in the house, the more the house wanted to communicate with visitors.
Richard and his team were only one of many para-normal research teams to spend time trying to unlock the mysteries of the Cage. Some did not last long during their investigations, I can tell you of several groups that chose to leave long before the night had ended, usually because the activity was too strong, and they got a little more than they had bargained for. Many reported they had seen entities and black masses that had terrified them, whereas others had witnessed poltergeist activity in the form of objects moving and flying across the room unaided. Still others were physically attacked and left with injuries that included burns, scratches, and hand prints on their skin.
The Cage is a haunted location that rarely disappoints.
At the time of writing (Christmas of 2016) I am still the owner of the Cage, and although the house has been available for sale for many months, there has thus far been nobody willing to take it on. The former prison stands empty and unlived-in. Its reputation as one of the most haunted houses in Britain, not to mention its thick, rancid atmosphere make it an undesirable dwelling for anybody who might be looking to purchase a happy home. It is my heartfelt belief that the property will not be sold again until the house itself chooses another owner, as it did with me.
The Cage has courted great interest from around the world, with many countries sending film crews to try and capture some of the unusual happenings, and to ask about my story at first hand. I feel a huge sense of obligation to share my story as a warning for others: the dark side of the paranormal does indeed exist, and people would be wise not to make light of it.
The activity in the house still continues, and Stephen’s attempt to cleanse the Cage is just the latest of many efforts made over the years to rid the house of its curse, and lay the restless spirits there to rest.
Much has been discovered about the house and its history over the years and the evidence collected has been very illuminating. After I was able to get my hands on the house deed records that go back many generations, I discovered that the house has changed hands on average every three and half years since it was first built, with the exception of only two cases … one example being that of a man who purchased the property for £150, and sold it on a matter of weeks later for just £100. In those days, £50 was today’s equivalent of £50,000—so why would he be willing to accept such a significant loss in such a short space of time?
The answer, of course, has been the same for so many occupants of the tragic house on Colchester Road: the spirits of the Cage.
I often look back to those days, and wonder just how on earth I got through it all alive and safe. My mind’s eye plays it out as though it was all a movie. I see myself cooking in the kitchen, then turning to see the shadow figure lurking behind me; I see myself in the bathroom, reeling in pain and shock after I had been hit so hard by a force that I could not see; I see myself sitting crying on the landing in turmoil in the dead of night, with no real recollection of how or why I was there. But still, to this day, the thing that I remember most clearly is the ever-present sense of total and utter despair and helplessness that I felt. Standing outside my home one dark winter evening, leaning against the wall with my baby son wrapped up inside my coat, trying to keep us both warm while the snow fell silently all around us. I vividly remember knowing that I had to go inside sooner or later, but not wanting to with all my heart and soul, because I had become so scared of what my home was doing to me.
One thing that I knew with absolute certainty was that it was never going to stop … I had lost all hope that things would go back to being normal again.
My time spent as a prisoner of the Cage has fundamentally changed the way in which I see the world. Beforehand, I thought that physical attacks, the approbation of objects, and so many of the other things that I experienced there were completely made up, the invention of overly imaginative Hollywood script-writers. I know now beyond any shadow of a doubt that the dead can choose to come back, and that if they chose to do so, they can inflict a great deal of physical and mental harm to the living.
I also know that I am never truly safe from those spirits of the dead, and will always be wary of them returning to finish what they started. I feel that what happened to me was an intelligent attack that was targeted upon me personally. It was neither random nor harmless; in fact, I strongly believe that its ultimate objective was for me to take my own life inside the Cage, and then be trapped there forever. I feel lucky to have escaped that house with my life and sanity intact.
My time there has left me with as many questions as it has answers. The one question that perpetually eats away at me is this: Why has God allowed the children to stay there, trapped in a kind of purgatory, and not sent down his angels to rescue them? I can’t begin to understand why the trapped souls cannot leave their endless torture, especially the children. Where are the angels? Where are God’s angels to rescue their little innocent souls? I feel nothing but despair when I hear some of the EVPs recorded inside my house, such as those that say, “I am looking for my Muma,” “Where is my Muma,” and “Am I dead?”
Visiting investigators have recorded the sounds of women screaming and being whipped, and the voices of disembodied males saying the most disgusting and degrading things about women—myself included. I have heard the cries and pleadings of terrified little children, and the desperate wailing of trapped souls that have found no way to the eternal light, and are forced to remain earthbound in their own personal hell.
I feel that I was chosen somewhere along the line by something—some guiding intelligence, force, fate, call it whatever you will—to buy that house and experience everything that I did. I believe that it was for a specific purpose, and I suspect that the purpose is to find a way to release those lost souls and to help them home. It is entirely possible that I myself was incarcerated within the Cage hundreds of years ago, and I have now reincarnated in this body and at this time to help put right some of the wrongs that were done there.
Ultimately, I may never know the truth with any certainty, but I have ceaselessly tried and am still trying my utmost to find a way for every prisoner of the Cage to finally be at peace. I will not quit until that is done, no matter what it takes.
One thing for which I am grateful is the way in which my experience with the Cage has changed my perception of death. The old witches’ prison has afforded me a glimpse into the world beyond the veil. I no longer have any fear of what will happen when my time finally comes to cross over, and I shall do so without hesitation, secure in the knowledge that I will see my brother, my nanny, and my dear friend Heather once more.
At the time of writing, it is my favorite time of year: Christmas. I am currently pregnant with my second child, a brother for Jesse who shall be named Jude. My journey has been one of fear and uncertainty, yet it has taken a turn for the happier, and I am truly content. Not only did I survive the Cage, despite the very best efforts of the dark spirits that haunt it, but it has made me a stronger person, and for that, if nothing else, I am grateful.