Meeting Nicola

[DamienV]

Hi This is my first post on this site, so Hi everyone.  The following is copied from a previous "It happened to me" posted in a 2017 Fortean times. I know the person who it happened to, and can confirm and vouch for his sincerity, I have have been interested if anyone else might know of any similar experiences to this? or offer any other avenues of research, thanks.  I have attached a image that Frank drew of Nicola.


"Meeting Nicola"

I have kept an irregular journal and have jotted down some of the more notable incidents and at quiet times it pleases me to flick through the now yellowing pages and reminisce.

One experience bothers me so much that not one day goes past without my thinking about it.

The following is an almost verbatim copy of my journal entry, itself a copy of the original notes I jotted down immediately after the event but which have since been lost: “At approximately 8:30am [on 21 June 1983] I left ––Dudley Road to walk along the River Thames to Walton Bridge and the ‘Cowey Sale’.

I was hoping to see my friend Joe–––, who was selling ice cream for the summer. When I arrived at approximately 9am his van was nowhere to be seen.

I decided to wait and while I did so I walked along the bank of the river, away from the bridge and up to where there was a sloping concrete launch for boats.

I then turned and looked for my friend’s van which I expected/ hoped to be parked in the car park and the usual spot.

He had still to arrive. The day was cloudy and brisk and I decided that the weather had put him off coming down to his pitch.

I started to wander back along the bank and home. Up to this point, apart from the odd car which had sped past, I had seen no other person along what is usually a busy stretch of the river.

The only people I could see were a couple of fishermen who had set up right next to the bridge.

After walking about 50 yards from the concrete launch, I heard a loud ‘splash’ coming from behind me on the left and the river.

Thinking it might be a large fish, I turned and went to investigate.

A fisherman myself (and a lifelong visitor along these banks), I knew the sound was coming from a small, semi-circular area of the bank that had been worn away and allowed fishermen to wade out into the water quietly without having to step down into the river from the bank.

To my shock – I had only passed the spot moments before – standing on the shingle was a girl, probably a couple of years younger than me (18/19), bending down and looking out at a dog that was swimming in the water.

I turned away and started walk back home again. After just a few strides I decided to go back and have a chat… from what I had seen she seemed quite attractive! I opened with the line: ‘Hi, are you an art student on leave too?’ ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m just walking my Nan’s dog.’

“The girl had jet-black hair, very white, faultless skin and plump, full red lips. Her eyes were stunning and were a true emerald green, sparkling in the murky light and piercing.

Of the dog that was in the water I could only see its head. It was large, menacing and black.

We continued chatting by the bank and she revealed that her name was Nicola and that she lived in Streatham.

I then suggested that if she had nothing on we should go for a walk. She agreed and I thought I was ‘in’.

“We crossed over the road and headed to Broadwater Lake, a great fishing spot for tench and a lake that was supposed to have been created by Capability Brown.

The chat was light and jovial and we brushed shoulders as we walked. ‘Nicola’ seemed to be very relaxed.

It was as we approached the end of the rough, rutted lane which led to the lake that I suddenly became very uneasy in her company.

She was gorgeous, I thought, and must have been chatted-up so many times before; surely she must have been aware of the dangers of going off with strangers… and yet here she was, alone, with a stranger (me) in a dark (even though it was day), secluded spot.

The hairs all over my body stood on end as if I’d touched a live wire and I stopped.

I then – and I really don’t know why – asked the first thing that came into my head: ‘Do you know why the 23rd is called mid-summer although today is the Solstice?’ “It was a pathetic question.

It had come from nowhere and just sounded stupid, but the affect it had on ‘Nicola’ was bizarre.

She stopped in her tracks and her face became contorted and angry. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her nostrils flared. ‘Why are you asking me this?’ she demanded.

‘Why do you think I would know that? Do you think I know?’ “I was shocked, stunned and very disturbed.

I really did think I was with an escaped mental patient.

I was very scared even though I was 12 stone and heavily muscled and she was slim and of average height.

There was an awkward silence that seemed to last ages as we stepped two or three paces forward.

Suddenly she turned round and said: ‘Oh, hi, you’re here?’ “I turned and looked over my left shoulder and stumbled as I looked at something which wasn’t possible.

Immediately behind us, no more than a yard, was a giant of a man standing astride a hefty black and chrome motorbike.

He was dressed in all black leathers and wore a black helmet with a darkened visor.

I couldn’t see his face but could just make out the white of his eyes.

I was terrified.

I hadn’t heard the bike.

Even if he had pushed it along the 150 yards of the pot-holed dirt track we were on I would have heard something.

I thought it might be her boyfriend or an over-protective brother.

‘Frank,’ said Nicola. ‘Do you just want to go on, I won’t be a minute.’ “Relieved, I gladly walked to the end of the lane, some 20 yards, where it turned to the right and behind a big oak.

I glanced back only once and then waited behind the tree for a second. Curious to get another look at the bike and biker, I popped my head around the corner.

There was no one there.

“Refusing to accept anything supernatural, I strained my eyes and ears and sprinted (I am an 11 second 100 metre runner) to the end of the lane and the 100 yard climb up a hill where the lane joins the main road.

Nothing and nobody was to be seen… and then I realised: Where was the dog? It hadn’t followed us on our romantic walk.

We had left it in the water. I ran to the spot on the bank.

Nothing.” The account goes on to say how I ran back home and then to my cousin’s house, and how I described everything that had happened.

It also states how for many years afterwards – at the same time and place – I visited the site… with nothing unusual occurring. The incident was in all probability insignificant; no one was harmed and there was no real consequence, but it was real.

I actually touched Nicola (albeit with my shoulder).

I felt that she was no phantasm, no product of an overactive imagination, but I don’t know what she was… and it frustrates me so.

I came so close, so close to finding out about something which we are, it appears, not allowed to know. I consider the facts and memories every day and I will go to my grave without ever knowing the answer… but the fact that I came so close bothers me more than you can know.

Hopefully this letter will help expunge my feeling of having guessed the six numbers and then lost the ticket.

Francesco S

 

[+Desertrat56]

I remember this from somewhere, may even this website.  Did you do  a search before you posted?

[Abramelin]

11 minutes ago, Desertrat56 said:

I remember this from somewhere, may even this website.  Did you do  a search before you posted?

I did just now. And all that showed up is the Fortean Times, like Damien said:

https://forums.forteana.org/index.php?threads/meeting-nicola.68010/

[DamienV]

18 minutes ago, Desertrat56 said:

I remember this from somewhere, may even this website.  Did you do  a search before you posted?

You might have read it on the Fortean times forum, that's the only other place that I have posted it.

[+Desertrat56]

6 minutes ago, DamienV said:

You might have read it on the Fortean times forum, that's the only other place that I have posted it.

Yes, I must have.   I don't belong to that one anymore.

[Abramelin]

1 hour ago, DamienV said:

Hi This is my first post on this site, so Hi everyone.  The following is copied from a previous "It happened to me" posted in a 2017 Fortean times. I know the person who it happened to, and can confirm and vouch for his sincerity, I have have been interested if anyone else might know of any similar experiences to this? or offer any other avenues of research, thanks.  I have attached a image that Frank drew of Nicola.


"Meeting Nicola"

I have kept an irregular journal and have jotted down some of the more notable incidents and at quiet times it pleases me to flick through the now yellowing pages and reminisce.

One experience bothers me so much that not one day goes past without my thinking about it.

The following is an almost verbatim copy of my journal entry, itself a copy of the original notes I jotted down immediately after the event but which have since been lost: “At approximately 8:30am [on 21 June 1983] I left ––Dudley Road to walk along the River Thames to Walton Bridge and the ‘Cowey Sale’.

I was hoping to see my friend Joe–––, who was selling ice cream for the summer. When I arrived at approximately 9am his van was nowhere to be seen.

I decided to wait and while I did so I walked along the bank of the river, away from the bridge and up to where there was a sloping concrete launch for boats.

I then turned and looked for my friend’s van which I expected/ hoped to be parked in the car park and the usual spot.

He had still to arrive. The day was cloudy and brisk and I decided that the weather had put him off coming down to his pitch.

I started to wander back along the bank and home. Up to this point, apart from the odd car which had sped past, I had seen no other person along what is usually a busy stretch of the river.

The only people I could see were a couple of fishermen who had set up right next to the bridge.

After walking about 50 yards from the concrete launch, I heard a loud ‘splash’ coming from behind me on the left and the river.

Thinking it might be a large fish, I turned and went to investigate.

A fisherman myself (and a lifelong visitor along these banks), I knew the sound was coming from a small, semi-circular area of the bank that had been worn away and allowed fishermen to wade out into the water quietly without having to step down into the river from the bank.

To my shock – I had only passed the spot moments before – standing on the shingle was a girl, probably a couple of years younger than me (18/19), bending down and looking out at a dog that was swimming in the water.

I turned away and started walk back home again. After just a few strides I decided to go back and have a chat… from what I had seen she seemed quite attractive! I opened with the line: ‘Hi, are you an art student on leave too?’ ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m just walking my Nan’s dog.’

“The girl had jet-black hair, very white, faultless skin and plump, full red lips. Her eyes were stunning and were a true emerald green, sparkling in the murky light and piercing.

Of the dog that was in the water I could only see its head. It was large, menacing and black.

We continued chatting by the bank and she revealed that her name was Nicola and that she lived in Streatham.

I then suggested that if she had nothing on we should go for a walk. She agreed and I thought I was ‘in’.

“We crossed over the road and headed to Broadwater Lake, a great fishing spot for tench and a lake that was supposed to have been created by Capability Brown.

The chat was light and jovial and we brushed shoulders as we walked. ‘Nicola’ seemed to be very relaxed.

It was as we approached the end of the rough, rutted lane which led to the lake that I suddenly became very uneasy in her company.

She was gorgeous, I thought, and must have been chatted-up so many times before; surely she must have been aware of the dangers of going off with strangers… and yet here she was, alone, with a stranger (me) in a dark (even though it was day), secluded spot.

The hairs all over my body stood on end as if I’d touched a live wire and I stopped.

I then – and I really don’t know why – asked the first thing that came into my head: ‘Do you know why the 23rd is called mid-summer although today is the Solstice?’ “It was a pathetic question.

It had come from nowhere and just sounded stupid, but the affect it had on ‘Nicola’ was bizarre.

She stopped in her tracks and her face became contorted and angry. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her nostrils flared. ‘Why are you asking me this?’ she demanded.

‘Why do you think I would know that? Do you think I know?’ “I was shocked, stunned and very disturbed.

I really did think I was with an escaped mental patient.

I was very scared even though I was 12 stone and heavily muscled and she was slim and of average height.

There was an awkward silence that seemed to last ages as we stepped two or three paces forward.

Suddenly she turned round and said: ‘Oh, hi, you’re here?’ “I turned and looked over my left shoulder and stumbled as I looked at something which wasn’t possible.

Immediately behind us, no more than a yard, was a giant of a man standing astride a hefty black and chrome motorbike.

He was dressed in all black leathers and wore a black helmet with a darkened visor.

I couldn’t see his face but could just make out the white of his eyes.

I was terrified.

I hadn’t heard the bike.

Even if he had pushed it along the 150 yards of the pot-holed dirt track we were on I would have heard something.

I thought it might be her boyfriend or an over-protective brother.

‘Frank,’ said Nicola. ‘Do you just want to go on, I won’t be a minute.’ “Relieved, I gladly walked to the end of the lane, some 20 yards, where it turned to the right and behind a big oak.

I glanced back only once and then waited behind the tree for a second. Curious to get another look at the bike and biker, I popped my head around the corner.

There was no one there.

“Refusing to accept anything supernatural, I strained my eyes and ears and sprinted (I am an 11 second 100 metre runner) to the end of the lane and the 100 yard climb up a hill where the lane joins the main road.

Nothing and nobody was to be seen… and then I realised: Where was the dog? It hadn’t followed us on our romantic walk.

We had left it in the water. I ran to the spot on the bank.

Nothing.” The account goes on to say how I ran back home and then to my cousin’s house, and how I described everything that had happened.

It also states how for many years afterwards – at the same time and place – I visited the site… with nothing unusual occurring. The incident was in all probability insignificant; no one was harmed and there was no real consequence, but it was real.

I actually touched Nicola (albeit with my shoulder).

I felt that she was no phantasm, no product of an overactive imagination, but I don’t know what she was… and it frustrates me so.

I came so close, so close to finding out about something which we are, it appears, not allowed to know. I consider the facts and memories every day and I will go to my grave without ever knowing the answer… but the fact that I came so close bothers me more than you can know.

Hopefully this letter will help expunge my feeling of having guessed the six numbers and then lost the ticket.

Francesco S

 

Welcome to this site, Damien.

Liked your story. And then I saw the picture of 'Nicola'. I looked up to a framed b/w photo of a girl I once knew:

I met her here in The Netherlands. Her name wasn't Nicola, but she had jetblack hair and green eyes.

That was like 30-35 years ago.

Edited December 28, 2022 by Abramelin

[Davros of Skaro]

She looks sort of like the space vampire in the movie Lifeforce (1985).

 

 

[Abramelin]

18 minutes ago, Abramelin said:

Welcome to this site, Damien.

Liked your story. And then I saw the picture of 'Nicola'. I looked up to a framed b/w photo of a girl I once knew:

I met her here in The Netherlands. Her name wasn't Nicola, but she had jetblack hair and green eyes.

That was like 30-35 years ago.

Maybe I am overdoing it a bit, but I had to cut the photo in my former post to be able to fit in a post.

Ok, so I uploaded the complete frame to IBB picture host:

Her photo I put over some card by Dario Argentino, and it stands there for many years now. I put her photo over that card because of the title of Argentino's card, "Inferno".

In case you didn't know, your story - or your friend's - was quite a shocker..

[DamienV]

21 minutes ago, Abramelin said:

Maybe I am overdoing it a bit, but I had to cut the photo in my former post to be able to fit in a post.

Ok, so I uploaded the complete frame to IBB picture host:

Her photo I put over some card by Dario Argentino, and it stands there for many years now. I put her photo over that card because of the title of Argentino's card, "Inferno".

In case you didn't know, your story - or your friend's - was quite a shocker..

Yes I can definitely see the likeness.  Was she originally from the Netherlands?

[papageorge1]

Good story.

The motorcycle guy strikes me as a guardian angel figure for her on her walk with a stranger.

[Abramelin]

13 minutes ago, DamienV said:

Yes I can definitely see the likeness.  Was she originally from the Netherlands?

No. She was from Russian descent, and spoke fluent English. I first thought she wàs British.

She was ... kind of weird. She'd probably be burnt at the stake had she lived during the middle ages.

[DamienV]

1 minute ago, Abramelin said:

No. She was from Russian descent, and spoke fluent English. I first thought she wàs British.

She was ... kind of weird. She'd probably be burnt at the stake had she lived during the middle ages.

You say she was "Kind of Weird" interesting, anything in particular?  When you thought she was originally British was this down to the accent?  did she spend any time in the UK from your knowledge?

[Abramelin]

1 minute ago, DamienV said:

You say she was "Kind of Weird" interesting, anything in particular?  When you thought she was originally British was this down to the accent?  did she spend any time in the UK from your knowledge?

Weird as in 'a bit scary'. When she was angry her eyes became laser beams.

Man, it was so long ago, but I had met enough English people to assume she was English.

Btw., the card of Dario Argento (not Argentino) was a poster of one of his horror movies:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inferno_(1980_film)

[Abramelin]

@DamienV

Why don't you show your friend that photo I posted.

It will make a long story short if he says it's not his Nicola.

I remember her name: Ilena or something very similar.

Edited to add:

I met her in Delft.

Edited December 28, 2022 by Abramelin

[DamienV]

1 minute ago, Abramelin said:

@DamienV

Why don't you show your friend that photo I posted.

It will make a long story short if he says it's not his Nicola.

I remember her name: Ilena or something very similar.

Yeah I'll send it to him and see what he thinks.  He did mention when she got angry her face contorted and was pretty scary.  this is from a guy who was for a short while brought up among the  childrean of the mafia of Sicily, he wasn't no scaredy cat.  he even wrote a book about his time in Sicily (Sicilian shadows)  the papers did a interview with him  https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/real-life-stories/secret-sicilian-mafia-childhood-middle-aged-3847740

Just out of curiosity how long did you know llena? and what was the connection with the Infeno movie?

[Abramelin]

1 minute ago, DamienV said:

Just out of curiosity how long did you know llena? and what was the connection with the Infeno movie?

That's also the reason why I want to know if she is that Nicola. Maybe Ilena has nothing to do with your friend's story.

We met in a bar in Delft. After a couple of times of 'physical intimacy' she disappeared. Must have been not more than a week or so that we had something together.

What I remember is that she loved horror movies, and particularly "Inferno" by Dario Argento.

[DamienV]

28 minutes ago, Abramelin said:

That's also the reason why I want to know if she is that Nicola. Maybe Ilena has nothing to do with your friend's story.

We met in a bar in Delft. After a couple of times of 'physical intimacy' she disappeared. Must have been not more than a week or so that we had something together.

What I remember is that she loved horror movies, and particularly "Inferno" by Dario Argento.

Just sent an E-mail over with the photo to him.  See what he thinks.

[Abramelin]

20 minutes ago, DamienV said:

Just sent an E-mail over with the photo to him.  See what he thinks.

Well, then I will just blabber along.

When I entered that bar in Delft, I noticed it was kind of quiet, just half a dozen people. I had taken a pocket book with me, "Journey to Ixtlan" by Carlos Castaneda.

I remember sitting near one of the windows. I had noticed her sitting at the bar when I entered, and our eyes met. She looked pretty, black hair, green eyes and a lilly white skin.

Ok. So I ordered a beer, and started reading.

A while later she passed me on her way to the bathroom, and said something like, "Interesting book you're reading". I said something like "yes, I know".

When she returned from the bathroom, she asked me if I wouldn't mind if she joined me at my table.

Of course I didn't, and we started discussing the book I was reading, a book she had read too.

And now let's wait for your friend's reply.

[DamienV]

.

 

 

 

Edited December 28, 2022 by DamienV

[DamienV]

1 hour ago, Abramelin said:

Well, then I will just blabber along.

When I entered that bar in Delft, I noticed it was kind of quiet, just half a dozen people. I had taken a pocket book with me, "Journey to Ixtlan" by Carlos Castaneda.

I remember sitting near one of the windows. I had noticed her sitting at the bar when I entered, and our eyes met. She looked pretty, black hair, green eyes and a lilly white skin.

Ok. So I ordered a beer, and started reading.

A while later she passed me on her way to the bathroom, and said something like, "Interesting book you're reading". I said something like "yes, I know".

When she returned from the bathroom, she asked me if I wouldn't mind if she joined me at my table.

Of course I didn't, and we started discussing the book I was reading, a book she had read too.

And now let's wait for your friend's reply.

Just received a reply back from Frank, I have pasted it below:-

Young man, lovely to hear from you. I hope you are in good health and all goes well.

The photo you've sent looks very much like a professional model...Lots of similar features to Nicola but I'm afraid it's not her...There again I am 61 now and the old memory is starting to falter...

How are you? Did you ever expand on the research you had underway? Have you been able to get your hands on any nuggets of real, hard evidence?

I admire how you're still on the hunt.

 

Have a happy New Year!!!

[Abramelin]

Glad to hear Ilena is not Nicola.

A professional model??

I worked for Eastman-Kodak for 10 years. I do know how to take a picture.

[DamienV]

3 minutes ago, Abramelin said:

Glad to hear Ilena is not Nicola.

A professional model??

I worked for Eastman-Kodak for 10 years. I do know how to take a picture.

So a Professional photographer then?    You said "you are glad Nicola wasn't llena? Any reason why?  I do think it would be much more easier to find your llena than it is for me to track down Nicola.  You seem to have had much more time and conversation with llena, where Frank only had limited information from Nicola..  

[Abramelin]

4 minutes ago, DamienV said:

So a Professional photographer then?    You said "you are glad Nicola wasn't llena? Any reason why?  I do think it would be much more easier to find your llena than it is for me to track down Nicola.  You seem to have had much more time and conversation with llena, where Frank only had limited information from Nicola..  

I'm not a professional photographer; I worked as a laboratory assistent for Eastman-Kodak. Chemistry was my thing, not taking pictures. But I learned a lot from professional photographers hanging around there.

Why am I glad my Ilena is not Frank's Nicola? Heh, I would have to dig really deep into my memory, search the internet, send emails, hack accounts and all that scheize. No thanks.

And yeah, I must have spent more time with Ilena than Frank did with Nicola. But that doesn't mean Ilena was easy to retrace. Mind you: the 80's wasn't yet the time of internet and social media.

 

[Abramelin]

I have been staring at her face, on and off, for like 30+ years or so.

And here she is again:

[sanchez710]

I really enjoyed reading these stories. Thanks for sharing them. I've met some interesting people over the years but nothing out of the ordinary that I can remember. A few weird coincidences but that's about it.