My name is Becky. 

I went to a church school as a kid. On the surface, it was like any other school…assemblies, uniforms, and the usual scramble to remember your lunch. 

The only real twist?

Every so often, a priest would turn up to run assembly. And instead of just reading scripture, he’d paint these big, dramatic scenes on a flip pad while he spoke. Imagine a spiritual TED Talk, but with watercolours.

Then one day, in the middle of one of these sessions, he told us about The Grey Lady a ghost he’d personally seen at his church, wandering the grounds in silence, deep in prayer. And he didn’t say it for effect. He wasn’t trying to scare us. He said it like he was describing what he had for breakfast. Calm. Certain. Honest.

I was completely stunned. This was the first time an adult had admitted to something that felt like it broke the unspoken “rules” of what grown-ups were supposed to say. It cracked the door open to a much stranger, far more fascinating world.

Things got even more interesting when Mrs. Evans, one of the strictest, most straight-laced teachers we had shared her own story.

She was walking her dogs one cold evening behind the same church when she stopped near a bush and saw a grey figure glide silently past her. No explanation, no theatrics, just a real moment that left her, and now us, speechless.

But the moment that truly tipped everything over for me was a conversation with my friend Matt.

We were walking to the park when he mentioned that his dad had grown up in my house. And guess what? He’d seen the Grey Lady too. In my bedroom.

That landed. Hard.

I’d always felt like something was a little off in that room. I used to see flickers – clusters of energy moving through the dark like they had somewhere to be. Nothing dramatic. But once Matt told me that? It was like every odd feeling I’d ever had finally made sense.

And that’s how it all started…my lifelong curiosity with what lies just outside our normal field of vision. Ghosts, energy, stories that refuse to be neatly filed under “coincidence.” I’m not into the drama of it all—I’m into the mystery, the wonder, the subtle electric sense that maybe the world is bigger than we’ve been told.

I don’t claim to have answers. I just know that once you see behind the curtain, you can’t pretend it’s not there.