creedo299
Epochal Historian
Article by Tom Slemen:
The Kirkby Caveman
The strange episode of the Kirkby Caveman began early in the morning of 31 July 1995.
Thunderstorms had swept across the North West earlier that morning, just before dawn at 5.15am, and several early risers who were on their way to work that Monday morning in Knowsley noticed the strange pink aura around the pylons running in a line, parallel to the M57; some heard a strange hissing and crackling around the pylons as if the air was charged with high-tension electricity.
That morning, at around 5.45am, a 19-year-old girl named Lyndsey was walking alone from her mother’s house in Southdene to her home in Westvale, where her possessive boyfriend Mark was waiting.
Lyndsey and Mark had had a blazing row the night before and she had walked out on him.
He didn’t want her hanging round with some of her ‘wilder’ friends because they encouraged her to stay out all night and Mark claimed that Lyndsey’s mates didn’t like him and were determined to wreck the relationship he had with his girlfriend of three years.
Lyndsey said she was only 19 and wanted to live a little, and she had called Mark a control freak and stormed out of the house.
Now she had decided to give the relationship another try, but unknown to her, Mark was walking towards Southdene because his friend George had wound him up earlier by claiming that he had seen Lyndsey walking hand in hand with a man on Leeside Avenue, close to the home of the girl’s mum.
Mark walked as far as Whitefield Drive, and had stopped at a bus stop opposite the Johnny Todd pub. By this bus stop there were two large boulders, and leaning up against one of them was an old rusty hatchet.
How it came to be there is unknown; perhaps kids had been playing with it, Mark supposed when he noticed it.
He then noticed Lyndsey coming from the direction of the corner of Valley Road and Whitefield Drive, but she hadn’t yet seen him, being some 300 yards away.
Mark stayed put, and got ready to give her an earful. He wanted to know where she had been for the past day and who she had been walking hand in hand with on Leeside Avenue.
Then he noticed another figure to the left of Lyndsey – coming from Tithe Barn Lane. This figure looked like a bearded man in shorts and some sort of short-sleeved shirt.
He ran up to Lyndsey, grabbed her, and ran off with her under his right arm – and this strange-looking abductor was heading in Mark’s direction.
As the figure drew nearer, Mark could not believe his eyes, for the bearded man was not wearing shorts and a tee shirt at all – he had what looked like a strip of animal fur wrapped about him, and it hung from his right shoulder and went down to his lower abdomen where it seemed to have been tied around his waist.
For all the world this nut looked as if he was dressed as an archetypal Stone Age Man – and by the time the figure was about 130 yards away, Mark saw that the bearded weirdo in the strip of animal fur held what looked like a club in his left hand.
Mark remembered the hatchet lying against the stone near the bus stop and went to grab it.
He wondered if the ‘caveman’ was just a student playing some prank, and that perhaps Lyndsey was in on it, but as the wild-looking figure came nearer, he saw that Lyndsey seemed to be unconscious – as if she had fainted in shock at being seized by the muscular brute.
Mark shouted Lyndsey’s name and the girl started struggling in the arms of the feral man. She let out a scream, and Mark raised the hatchet and swore at the half-naked kidnapper. The troglodyte halted, and tightened his grip around a squirming Lyndsey with his right arm.
At this point a hackney cab came up Whitefield Drive and slowed down as the driver saw the strange sight of a person ‘dressed’ as an archetypal caveman with a girl under his arm and a club in the other – and a young man brandishing a hatchet.
The human throwback seemed afraid of the vehicle, and as it looked at it, Mark rushed forward and was ready to try and yank his girlfriend from the powerfully-built primitive, but the stranger turned to face him and Mark saw he had thick eyebrows, a wide nose, and black piercing eyes.
Mark let out a string of swear words and yelled, “Put her down or I’ll kill you!”
He raised the hatchet and Lyndsey screamed his name – but then in one swift movement the huge wooden club was swung once and its tip made contact with the side of Mark’s head.
He found himself on the pavement in an instant, and he tried to get up but his legs felt like jelly. Like a boxer who had been KO’d, the impact of the club against his head had sent a shockwave down his spine and now his legs wouldn’t work properly.
He dragged himself up, and the whole world began to sway and tilt as if he was on the deck of a ship in a storm.
The archaic hominid turned the corner onto Elstead Road and vanished from sight. Mark picked up the hatchet and despite his concussion, he tried to give chase. A voice to his right shouted, ‘Hey mate, you alright?’
It was the driver of the hackney. He was a bald man with spectacles and he was eyeing the hatchet with great concern.
“He’s taken my girlfriend,” said a groggy Mark, stumbling along.
“Throw that thing away or you’ll get nicked, lad,” the cabby advised Mark as he looked at the hatchet, and Mark dropped the hatchet into the gutter and almost fell to his knees.
“Get in – we’ll see where he went,” the hackney driver operated the door lock, and Mark said, “Thanks mate,” and pulled the door open.
At the end of the road, the cab came to a halt and Mark and the cabby saw that Lyndsey had somehow wrestled herself free from the grip of the bizarre anachronistic hairy man, and he was struggling to pick her up.
She was kicking out at him as she lay on her back in the grass of a strip of land known locally as the Corn Field.
Mark was about to get out but the hackney driver told him to stay put and he beeped the vehicle’s horn and flashed the headlamps to high-beam – and then he drove at the Paleolithic pervert –who reacted by fleeing down the cornfield until he was lost to sight.
Lyndsey was in tears. She had nightmares about the weird kidnapper for years, and later married Mark.
They told people about the incident but everyone said the same thing – that the caveman had been someone who had taken a joke a bit too far, possibly because he was high on drugs.
That might have been the case - or had a genuine caveman from the days when Kirkby was a Bronze Age settlement somehow strayed into the 20th century via a timeslip that had occurred when the thunderstorms raged over the North West that Monday morning?
Source @ The Kirkby Caveman The strange episode... - Haunted liverpool | Facebook
The Kirkby Caveman
The strange episode of the Kirkby Caveman began early in the morning of 31 July 1995.
Thunderstorms had swept across the North West earlier that morning, just before dawn at 5.15am, and several early risers who were on their way to work that Monday morning in Knowsley noticed the strange pink aura around the pylons running in a line, parallel to the M57; some heard a strange hissing and crackling around the pylons as if the air was charged with high-tension electricity.
That morning, at around 5.45am, a 19-year-old girl named Lyndsey was walking alone from her mother’s house in Southdene to her home in Westvale, where her possessive boyfriend Mark was waiting.
Lyndsey and Mark had had a blazing row the night before and she had walked out on him.
He didn’t want her hanging round with some of her ‘wilder’ friends because they encouraged her to stay out all night and Mark claimed that Lyndsey’s mates didn’t like him and were determined to wreck the relationship he had with his girlfriend of three years.
Lyndsey said she was only 19 and wanted to live a little, and she had called Mark a control freak and stormed out of the house.
Now she had decided to give the relationship another try, but unknown to her, Mark was walking towards Southdene because his friend George had wound him up earlier by claiming that he had seen Lyndsey walking hand in hand with a man on Leeside Avenue, close to the home of the girl’s mum.
Mark walked as far as Whitefield Drive, and had stopped at a bus stop opposite the Johnny Todd pub. By this bus stop there were two large boulders, and leaning up against one of them was an old rusty hatchet.
How it came to be there is unknown; perhaps kids had been playing with it, Mark supposed when he noticed it.
He then noticed Lyndsey coming from the direction of the corner of Valley Road and Whitefield Drive, but she hadn’t yet seen him, being some 300 yards away.
Mark stayed put, and got ready to give her an earful. He wanted to know where she had been for the past day and who she had been walking hand in hand with on Leeside Avenue.
Then he noticed another figure to the left of Lyndsey – coming from Tithe Barn Lane. This figure looked like a bearded man in shorts and some sort of short-sleeved shirt.
He ran up to Lyndsey, grabbed her, and ran off with her under his right arm – and this strange-looking abductor was heading in Mark’s direction.
As the figure drew nearer, Mark could not believe his eyes, for the bearded man was not wearing shorts and a tee shirt at all – he had what looked like a strip of animal fur wrapped about him, and it hung from his right shoulder and went down to his lower abdomen where it seemed to have been tied around his waist.
For all the world this nut looked as if he was dressed as an archetypal Stone Age Man – and by the time the figure was about 130 yards away, Mark saw that the bearded weirdo in the strip of animal fur held what looked like a club in his left hand.
Mark remembered the hatchet lying against the stone near the bus stop and went to grab it.
He wondered if the ‘caveman’ was just a student playing some prank, and that perhaps Lyndsey was in on it, but as the wild-looking figure came nearer, he saw that Lyndsey seemed to be unconscious – as if she had fainted in shock at being seized by the muscular brute.
Mark shouted Lyndsey’s name and the girl started struggling in the arms of the feral man. She let out a scream, and Mark raised the hatchet and swore at the half-naked kidnapper. The troglodyte halted, and tightened his grip around a squirming Lyndsey with his right arm.
At this point a hackney cab came up Whitefield Drive and slowed down as the driver saw the strange sight of a person ‘dressed’ as an archetypal caveman with a girl under his arm and a club in the other – and a young man brandishing a hatchet.
The human throwback seemed afraid of the vehicle, and as it looked at it, Mark rushed forward and was ready to try and yank his girlfriend from the powerfully-built primitive, but the stranger turned to face him and Mark saw he had thick eyebrows, a wide nose, and black piercing eyes.
Mark let out a string of swear words and yelled, “Put her down or I’ll kill you!”
He raised the hatchet and Lyndsey screamed his name – but then in one swift movement the huge wooden club was swung once and its tip made contact with the side of Mark’s head.
He found himself on the pavement in an instant, and he tried to get up but his legs felt like jelly. Like a boxer who had been KO’d, the impact of the club against his head had sent a shockwave down his spine and now his legs wouldn’t work properly.
He dragged himself up, and the whole world began to sway and tilt as if he was on the deck of a ship in a storm.
The archaic hominid turned the corner onto Elstead Road and vanished from sight. Mark picked up the hatchet and despite his concussion, he tried to give chase. A voice to his right shouted, ‘Hey mate, you alright?’
It was the driver of the hackney. He was a bald man with spectacles and he was eyeing the hatchet with great concern.
“He’s taken my girlfriend,” said a groggy Mark, stumbling along.
“Throw that thing away or you’ll get nicked, lad,” the cabby advised Mark as he looked at the hatchet, and Mark dropped the hatchet into the gutter and almost fell to his knees.
“Get in – we’ll see where he went,” the hackney driver operated the door lock, and Mark said, “Thanks mate,” and pulled the door open.
At the end of the road, the cab came to a halt and Mark and the cabby saw that Lyndsey had somehow wrestled herself free from the grip of the bizarre anachronistic hairy man, and he was struggling to pick her up.
She was kicking out at him as she lay on her back in the grass of a strip of land known locally as the Corn Field.
Mark was about to get out but the hackney driver told him to stay put and he beeped the vehicle’s horn and flashed the headlamps to high-beam – and then he drove at the Paleolithic pervert –who reacted by fleeing down the cornfield until he was lost to sight.
Lyndsey was in tears. She had nightmares about the weird kidnapper for years, and later married Mark.
They told people about the incident but everyone said the same thing – that the caveman had been someone who had taken a joke a bit too far, possibly because he was high on drugs.
That might have been the case - or had a genuine caveman from the days when Kirkby was a Bronze Age settlement somehow strayed into the 20th century via a timeslip that had occurred when the thunderstorms raged over the North West that Monday morning?
Source @ The Kirkby Caveman The strange episode... - Haunted liverpool | Facebook
