By Ian Ainsley 

Before I start on this subject, for those of you that don’t know me my name is Ian and I am a Paranormal Investigator of 20 years and a Demonologist of 11 years. I am part of two paranormal teams Knights Templar Paranormal Order and Project Paranormal. I have many books that relate to demonology yet none of them list this supposed demonic entity known as Zozo. This sparked my interest to start digging into why exactly a demonic entity or should I say a ‘supposed’ demonic entity that is said to have been documented in the 18th Century is not mentioned in any of the scriptures(books) on the subject of demons.

Zozo described as one of the most powerful demons ever to be known so much so that some theories on Zozo is that it’s Lucifer himself.

Zozo is reportedly first believed to have been documented in the 18th century and is said to be mentioned in the dictionnaire Infernal an 1818 published book on demonology. The dictionnaire infernal lists 65 demons none of which are named or nicknamed Zozo. 

So fact number one is that the claim of when this entity was ‘supposedly’ first encountered is false and the claim of where this entity is documented is false. The story of Zozo is slowly starting to unfold. 

The first actual account of an encounter with Zozo first found its way onto the Internet in 2009 by a man named Darren Wayne Evans who claims to be a self professed Zozologist (An expert on the entity Zozo).

 I find it very compelling that the first encounter started circulating the Internet in 2009 for one reason alone and that is it would be a perfect time three years before the release of a film called I Am Zozo (known in the UK as Are You There?) if stories were circulated before the films release of supposed real life encounters with this entity for promotional purposes. Also films are a long process to make so 2009 the film would have already have been in production. 

Darren Wayne Evans from Oklahoma also happens to appear in the film as ‘himself’ (a Zozologist). I don’t know about you but already I’m starting to see it’s all adding up.

From there on out the seed was planted and suddenly a mass of people started doing Ouija Board sessions and supposedly contacting Zozo from there. Now as the seed had already been planted by a few circulated ‘accounts’ of encounters with the Zozo entity it’s not hard to imagine that subconsciously a lot of people would be moving the planchette themselves without realising it and getting the name Zozo spelled out. 

Now don’t get me wrong I’m not saying that the Ouija Board isn’t a legitimate way of contacting the spirit world but what I am saying is suggestion and subconscious thought can play a big part in the results obtained, which is why as a paranormal investigator I won’t use Ouija Boards as there are too many false positives to produce it as actual evidence like for example the subconscious mind sending electrical impulses that you may not even be aware of that can cause a involuntary movement to happen and then of course there is the reason that Ouija Board evidence is easily faked. 

As hype and popularity in the accounts of encounters with Zozo grew suddenly a surge of investigators and investigation teams who are after more viewers, more subscribers and more likes of their shows suddenly started making contact with Zozo through Ouija Boards helping spread what started as a mere modern day urban legend into a much talked about and much believed in demonic entity.

Verdict- Zozo is the creation of Hollywood and not a real demon.

​The Curse of the Crying Boy Painting started in Rotherham and it is coming back!! 

Will it be the rebirth of the Curse?? 

We are looking for anyone who would like to have the painting for a upcoming project we have, we will be doing a documentary regarding the history of it and about those who have chosen to study the painting and if any activity occured while it was in their prescene, Please give us a message if this interests you.

The Curse of the Crying Boys Paintings

The History and theory behind it all:

In England, 1985, a series of bizarre fires broke out, destroying many homes and businesses. The link between the fires was a collection of paintings, known as ‘Crying Boys’. Out of the devastation of each fire, only the paintings would survive, and soon, they would be labelled as ‘cursed’.

Bruno Amadio, an academically trained painter, was working as a painting restorer in Venice, when he created his series that became known as ‘Crying Boys’. These paintings, of which at least 65 were made, all featured young boys, who stared straight out of the picture, with tears welling in their eyes and rolling down their cheeks.

The pictures were created for tourists visiting post world war two Venice, the significance being that the paintings showed the sorrow of the children who had been recently orphaned due to the war.

Eventually, some of these paintings were brought to England, mass produced and sold in shopa and department stores at a cheap price. More than 50,000 copies of the paintings made their way into people’s houses all across England.

In September 1985, British newspaper ‘The Sun’ ran a report on some strange happenings surrounding the Crying Boy paintings.

The article told the story of Ron and May Hall’s home of 27 years, in Rotherham, which was destroyed by a devastating fire. The fire was started when an unattended frying pan caught a light and the house went along with it.

The strange thing was that only one item seemed to have survived the blaze. Found amongst the ashes and ruin was a frame, the painting within was face down on the floor, and only slightly scorched. The Crying Boy had survived the fire somehow.

Ron Hall’s brother was a fire-fighter, and he told how several houses had burned to the ground, and that the sole remaining item was a copy of The Crying Boy, found intact, lying face down on the floor.

He also insinuated that fire-fighters believed the painting to be cursed, and that none would hang the picture in their homes. One fire station officer Alan Wilkinson had logged more than fifty ‘Crying Boy’ fires.

With The Sun’s large reader base, and the fact that more than 50,000 copies of The Crying Boy were hanging in British homes, a fear in the curse quickly spread.

Many readers told their stories through the paper, and various other papers around the country. The story was always the same, soon after the picture found its way into a home, a fire broke out, destroying everything except the picture itself.

Several readers also wrote in, explaining that after they had read about the curse, they attempted to destroy their copies of the paintings. They attempted to burn them in their garden incinerators, but the painting failed to burn.

Soon after a ‘Crying Boy’ fire had gutted an Italian Restaurant, The Sun ran a story encouraging readers to send them their copy of the paintings, if they felt fear from the curse. The sun organised mass bonfires for the burning of the paintings, and soon over two thousand had finally gone up in flames. Although they were not easy to burn, they did eventually succumb to the fire and flames.

Soon other methods for lifting the curse of the painting came to light, such as handing the painting to another (thereby giving them the curse), or hanging the picture alongside a painting containing a crying girl.

The stories of the fires began to smoulder, and the series of events relegated to the status of legend. However, the question still is ‘If the paintings were indeed somehow causing or enabling fires to take place, what force could be behind it?

There are several stories behind the legend of the painting itself. One states that the models for the various crying boys were orphans who, soon after the paintings were completed, died in a orphanage fire. 

Another version is that Bruno Amadio, also known as Bragolin, had fled to Spain soon after the end of World War Two. Here Amadio met a young boy named Don Bonillo, a mute orphan who had seen his parents perish in a house fire during the war.

Amadio soon adopted the boy, although he was warned off of doing so by a local priest, the boy being the centre of many mysterious fires that broke out wherever he went. The boy was known locally as the devil child.

Amadio refused to believe such stories, and the new family did well, Amadios paintings were selling well, and the two were living easy.

Unfortunately, one day Amadio found that his house and studio had burned to the ground. Remembering the priest’s warnings, he immediately blamed Don and kicked him out of the family. Don Bonillo was not heard from again until 1976, and surrounding another bizarre event.

Just outside of Barcelona a car smashed into a wall and burst into flames. The driver was killed and was so horrifically burned; he was not able to be identified. However, upon investigation back at the police yard, the glove compartment was pried open. There, among burned items, was an untouched driver’s license. The name on the license was Don Bonillo.

It is said all of Amadio’s paintings of crying boys were cursed by the memory of Don Bonillo.

Unfortunately, all of the facts of this story can not be 100% confirmed. Bruno Amadio, the painter, died in 1981, the truth of this story has also gone with him.

By Roy Hale

​

Who was that man ?

When I was first approached by paranormal magazine ” Project Reveal ” to write an article for their online magazine, I was told I could write about either any of my UFOs or ghost experiences I may have had, or UFOs and ghosts in general,  so I am going to tell you about my very first ghost encounter ! 

Before I do begin with my story, please let me introduce myself to you, my name is Roy Hale and  I am the editor and owner of ” The Lost Haven website, which incorporates Down To Earth UFO Online Magazine ” I am also one of the cofounders of ELUFON ( Essex and London UFO Network) which investigated UFO sighting cases across East London and Essex mostly in the mid 90s to the mid to late 2000s, although recently some of its original members have been active on skywatches over parts of eastern England. Also to mention, I have appeared and been interviewed over the years in numerous media outlets, TV (CH4 – BBC ) , radio (BBC )  and magazines  and with this I have witnessed the change in the UFO and paranormal scene as the introduction of social media * youtube and alike *  has become more prominent and made it easier for people to view, and to also upload their own captured footage of UFOs, spectres, weird creatures and all kinds of phenomena which I must admit even make me gasp at their sheer oddity ! ) So now we know each other…let me continue on what I consider to be a life journey of very odd and quirky happenings !

My very first ghostly sighting happened when I was 12 years old, I was the kind of teenager who liked adventure a lot ( I am a Sagittarius so that should tell you everything about my adventure side ) and so with that in mind  here is what occurred on that weird day. 

I was on my way back from my local playing fields ( Hackney marshes, Hackney East London) as I used to go there quite often  with friends and family, being a  great space for us kids at the time to run around and also explore, so this time I had just left my friends just before I reached the library and I was walking along past the local library when I decided than rather to carry on straight down the high street towards my block of flats ( I lived in Bannister House, Homerton at the time ) I would take the shortcut past the old church and head down the back alley which was adjacent to the church and which also ran parallel with the kids adventure playground, a place I used to frequently inhabit as it was such a fun place to be at ! So I crossed over from the library and walked over towards the old church, and I began to walk past the old church wall at the back of the church.

( wall was about 2.5ft in height with added old metal black Victorian fencing embedded within the stone wall to make it a little  harder for people to just hop over –  Also NOTE:  I have managed to screen capture a few images of how St Barnabas church on Homerton high street is today, and you can clearly see the back of the church where I was and the layout of how it looked back then, remarkably unchanged after all these years * )

The time was around 4.45pm to 5pm, so it would be considered early evening, but as the above picture shows more or less I had the same kind of view as seen in the picture, not too overcast and still with some adequate light to my view, so anyhow as I began to walk past the wall I noticed out of the corner of my eye a figure at the back of the church where all the old graves were and he looked as if he was digging out earth from the ground ? I turned to look at him for about ten seconds, and then not taking anything else into account I carried on walking down the back of the church (see below picture ) 

when as I was quarter of the way down the back of the church road, it suddenly dawned on me that the church had stopped burying people in its ground many years ago ! With that I ran back to the church wall to take another look towards the back of the church to see if I could spot this figure again ? And to my utter shock there was no one there to be seen ? I was besides myself with many feelings, shock being one, interpretation of the unknown that I had just witnessed, a little sacred too but also overwhelming curiosity ! So with all those feelings boiling up inside of me, I placed both hands on the small black fence on the wall and lifted myself over into the church grounds, I immediately began to walk over to the old graves at the back of the churchyard to see if this character I had seen ( DESCRIPTION: he was wearing a classic grey 1920s flat cap, with a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, black trousers and bracers ) was still around?  So there I was walking around the old graves from the early 20s and Victorian period looking for any sign of any kind of movement, from either a new grave being dug or an old grave being dug up, but I could find nothing, all I could find at the back of the wall was old branches that had fallen from the trees just laying in a semi piled naturally scattered bunch, like they had fallen off the tree over time and the wind and elements had moved them along the graves over a period of time. 

Now please bear in mind, I was just 12 at the time, so my investigatory powers was at a  very minimal start at that age, but I must admit I actually did feel a run of adrenalin once I started walking towards the back of those graves, not because I was heading into a collection of old graves, ( that for some unexplained reason didn’t phase me so much at the time), but I now feel it was because I was waiting for this chap who I had seen digging at the earth to suddenly appear at me and say ” boo” or something to like that, because that would have sent me running back to the church wall I can tell you !

I stayed in the churchyard grounds for about ten minutes, I walked from one end to the other looking for earth movement, any signs or clues I could get to back up what my eyes had clearly seen, but there was nothing, and I must admit I felt a little let down, because not only had I seen the man very clearly, but his actions were so precise in what he was doing, he looked committed shall we say, he had a reason or purpose to be there and doing what he was doing, and the fact that he wasn’t there once I had hopped over the wall to check, was beginning to confound on me terribly, I mean I had actually realised that I had seen something utterly mystifying , and something that could not be qualified by my mind at that very time, believe me I have mulled over this experience from time to time and tried to rationalise the visual of the man and place the sighting of this ghost into some form of rational perspective, but if you see a full grown figure dressed albeit in very old looking clothes and suddenly too and especially at such a young age of 12, it does make one feel at odds with the world around you, by that I mean; I saw him and no one else did, so I still battle within myself to try to figure out, who was he? What was he doing ? Was he the  vision of a time trapped ghost who was a gravedigger from the 1920s or possibly earlier? Why was I allowed to see him ? Was this a chance luck sighting of a window into the past ? Had anyone else seen him before? Would people think I was a little crazy if I told them about him? Well to answer the last point, I actually got home that day and spoke to my mum, I told her I had seen a ghost that day on the way back from the hackney marshes and it was in the back of the old St Barnabas Church near the playground, she asked me , what did the ghost look like, I described what he was wearing and his actions, wearing a typical flat gray cap of the 1920s, white shirt rolled up to the sleeves with bracers on it and black trousers, and it was the answer that my mum gave me that settled me right there and then, she said ” well, you may have just seen a ghost because it sounds like you spotted an out of date looking man doing something unusual in the back of the graveyard. ” but my mum said to me, just keep it quiet for now and let it be, telling too many people might make them laugh at you for all the wrong reasons, by that I think she meant I wouldn’t want to go through my teenage years having to constantly tell people what I had seen in great detail, only to have them ridicule me about it after I had finished, so I lived with it for many years, I have told a few close friends over the years but I now accept it as  a ghostly unexplained figure of the past who was seen by me  doing something to the earth in that graveyard that even today I still cannot explain.

Roy Hale.

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The Lost Haven Website :

http://www.thelosthaven.co.uk

Roy Hale Email:

roy@thelosthaven.co.uk

Roy Hale Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/roy.j.hale

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Credits: All pictures are Copyright of Google Inc.  

A guide to the  history of the Church of St Barnabas can be found at the below link:  

https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1226794

By 

Andy Owens 

Long Can is an award-winning, seventeenth century, Grade II listed building, set on the outskirts of Halifax, West Yorkshire. 

With its mullioned windows and fine stone façade, it looks every bit the traditional English manor, but as we drove towards it, up a steep hill and along a country lane, at the dead of night, I couldn’t help thinking of the Marston House in Salem’s Lot.

Why? 

My friend Chris, whose business partner had converted Long Can into a pub, had arranged for us to spend an evening there on a ghost hunt, as research for my new book – my next international worst-seller – and had made only one condition: that we experiment with a Ouija board.

‘I’m not playing Ouija!’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s evil!’

‘Don’t be such a wuss!’

‘I’m having nothing to do with it!’

‘Let me get this straight. You’re prepared to spend nights in haunted houses, hunting for ghosts and spirits – which, incidentally, don’t exist – and yet you don’t want to communicate with them?’

When Chris put it like that, I could see his point. What was the point of ghost hunting, armed to the tootsies with cameras and tape-recorders, if I wilfully avoided Ouija – the most commonly acknowledged form of communication between mankind and the spirit world?

But I had a question for him.

‘Bearing in mind that you don’t believe in the supernatural, what would you do if the Ouija board worked?’

Chris thought about this.

‘Then I would have to revise my ideas,’ he said.

So here I was, sacrificing my safe and comfortable existence to invasion by otherworldly forces. Dark denizens from distant dimensions could merrily strut their phantom foxtrot into my home, my mind, my very soul. A veritable legion of spirits, spooks and the entire cast of Rent-a-Ghost would follow me home and I would be forever goaded by ghosts, hounded by hauntings and plagued by poltergeists. And all these spiritual shenanigans just to afford Chris the opportunity to ‘revise’ his ideas. I didn’t like the sound of this at all. 

Like everyone else, I had heard bad things about Ouija.

Even cynics, who scoff at the supernatural and giggle at ghosts, will turn deathly silent at its mere mention. Their hoots of derision will quickly die away, as they cross themselves like devout worshippers and refuse even to discuss it. Ouija is far from a board game, they will argue. It is snakes and ladders for devils and demons. 

Recently, I had accompanied a paranormal research group to a haunted pub, which was ‘licensed to serve spirits’ (yawn), and we had all sat round a table with our fingers on a glass, encircled by letters from the alphabet, together with cards marked ‘Y’ and ‘N’ for Yes and No. 

This was termed Glass Divination – a method of spiritual communication – employed by many research groups. And I can’t recall anyone quaking like a jackhammer at the mere thought of it.

But how is this different from Ouija? As far as I can see, they are exactly the same.

How come Glass Divination is viewed as an acceptable paranormal experiment, while Ouija attracts evil beyond belief, inviting The Twilight Zone to set up camp in your lounge and Satan to build a bunk-house in your brain?

None of this made any kind of sense to me – or Chris.

He related how he had played Ouija at his own home with a couple of friends – and the glass had moved.

‘A-ha!’ I cried triumphantly.

‘A-ha nothing,’ replied Chris. ‘My mate was pushing it. You could tell. Besides, if there are evil spirits in my house, then they’ve been very quiet. Nothing weird has happened. If they were hurling my bed around the room, then I must have slept right through it, ’cos I didn’t feel a thing.’

Despite my objections, Chris had argued me out of the ring, like a linguistic Mike Tyson. So I had no choice but to agree.

I had originally heard of Long Can, many full moons ago, while researching for my first book. Webster’s Brewery, who used to own the building and used it as their visitor’s centre, suggested I contact the catering manageress, who had reported some spooky happenings. 

Sarah Thornton told me how she had heard a door open on the floor above, followed by the sound of footsteps, but when she investigated, there was no one there. A waitress had seen the image of a grey lady vanishing through the floorboards, and a cleaner had been tapped on the shoulder in the toilets while she was alone.

I had suggested that we invite a psychic to the house but Chris said we would be better without them. There is little more frustrating than a psychic saying they can sense a presence, when nobody else can see or sense anything. We wanted an impartial investigation without psychics, dowsing rods or a book of spells in sight.

Long Can was originally two cottages designed by local clothier James Murgatroyd, but was later converted into one large building. Now, it had now been entirely renovated, since Websters moved out, but there was still no furniture other than two chairs and a small table. And this was what worried me the most. For these are the furnishings of Ouija.

Once we had figured out which key fitted which door, we entered the main room. Leaving our equipment there, we set about stalking the house from top to bottom, unlocking further doors and switching on lights as we went, to get a feel for the place. 

For all his scepticism – no doubt partly fuelled by our ghost-free night at Chingle Hall, in Lancashire, (Britain’s most haunted) nine years previously – I admired the extent to which Chris had prepared for the vigil. He had printed out all the letters of the alphabet, all cut-out neatly onto squared paper, together with two larger squares with the words Yes and No printed on them.

Chris surmised that if he was wrong, if there were such things as ghosts, and they wanted to communicate, to relate a message from the other side, to warn us to leave Long Can immediately, with our tails (firmly intact) between our legs, never to return, or even – I hoped – give us the next winning Lotto numbers, then we would need a proper surface, to enable the glass to glide with ease. 

Chris wanted nothing – absolutely nothing – to stand in the way of supernatural communication. And then, if still nothing happened, it would confirm his view that all this Ouija stuff was a load of supernatural stinkers.

My thoughts turned to my writing.

‘If nothing ghostly happens, this will make a very short chapter,’ I said.

Chris sighed. 

‘Nothing ghostly is going to happen wherever you go, so it’s going to be a very short book.’

We each leaned forwards, placing fingers on the upturned glass, in the centre of the makeshift Ouija board, and took it in turns to utter the immortal line ‘Is Anybody There?’ punctuated by expectant pauses of anticipation.

‘Is There Anybody There?’

Silence.

‘Is There Anybody There?’

Silence.

After about fifteen minutes of this – and we had given any resident spirit the most blatant opportunity to get in touch – we brought the session to an end and packed up ready to go.

As we locked the outer door, and made our way to the car, we each cast an instinctive (hopeful?) look to the darkened windows, expecting to see someone or something that shouldn’t be there, but there was nothing but transparent glass reflecting the shadowy interior.

As we drove back home, Chris nodded in satisfaction. He had now spent two nights ghost-hunting. One playing the ’evil’ board game Ouija, and one in the most haunted house in England. And – as he expected – nothing had happened. 

Stinkers had won hands down.