During the mid 90s, my wife and I ran a pub in Yorkshire, England.

When we took over it was in a pretty run down and dirty state, so we started cleaning everything. The glassware, the bar, the floors. They all needed deep cleaning. It was not an easy task, but we wanted a clean and tidy bar.

Having finished the main floor, I set about straightening up the cellar. It was an old building and there were a lot of little side rooms off of the main space where the barrel drop was, but there were only two ways to gain access. One was the aforementioned barrel access, which was a heavy wooden door that opened out into the parking lot at the rear of the pub. This meant that it was at ceiling level in the cellar, so it wasn't really an access point. Particularly because it was kept tightly locked and secured unless there was a delivery.

The second access was via a set of stone stairs that led down from the main bar. There were walls on both sides and at the bottom of the stairs, so a door at the top (from the bar) a fully enclosed staircase down to cellar level, and a door-sized entrance into the cellar itself.

I hope that makes sense, but basically the only viable access to the cellar was down a fully enclosed staircase.

Our accommodations were on the top floor, with the bar below us and then the underground cellar, which meant that we were constantly going up and down stairs. Not ideal for my wife as she was 6 months pregnant, so I installed an intercom system on each floor to make it easier for us to communicate.

I had moved around a bunch of stuff in the cellar, but everything was kicking up dust, so I grabbed a spray bottle filled with water and a broom. I sprayed the air to get the dust to settle and started sweeping. There was so much dust that I had to use a dustpan to scoop it all into a bin as I went along.

Spray, sweep, scoop..... Repeat. Then the intercom buzzes. It's my wife letting me know that she had made lunch and would meet me in the bar area with it. We weren't open at lunchtime at this point, and had no staff, so we were totally alone in the building. Eating in the bar was just convenient.

I lent the broom against the wall in the cellar and headed up the stairs to wash my hands and have lunch.

After we had eaten, my wife went back upstairs and I went down to the cellar to continue tidying. When I got into the cellar I could not find my broom anywhere. I looked all over. No broom. The only thing I can think of is that I'd taken it upstairs when I went for lunch, so I headed back to the bar. No broom. Anywhere. I asked my wife if she had seen me with it when I came up for lunch, but she wasn't sure.

At this point I realise that it HAS to be in the cellar. I'd obviously just missed it, given that it wasn't exactly well lit, so I went back down the stairs. And there it was. LEANING RIGHT ACROSS THE DOORWAY TO THE CELLAR! I would have had to step over it to get in or out of the space! There is no way that I could have missed it.

I felt the colour drain from my face. In fact, I have goosebumps just typing this out. I went back up to the bar and sat down for a few minutes. I'm still not sure why, but I was one thousand percent certain that something didn't want me poking around down there. I just knew that I needed to leave stuff alone.

Eventually, I walked back downstairs. I picked up the broom from the doorway and stepped into the cellar. I stood there and explained to an empty room that I was sorry for moving stuff and that I wouldn't do it again. I just needed to use the space where the beer was, so I would sweep that out and call it done.

I did, and nothing weird happened again, but to this day I am still really interested in what was down there. Something moved that broom, and using it to effectively block the doorway was symbolic.