Walking The Stories Home, Halloween Ghost Walk

Back in May, I’d only just started this project, and maybe published three or four stories. So it was a delightful surprise to be contacted by the local running group, the Redway Runners, and invited to come along and share some of them for one of their regular walking events!

I’d often seen the Redway Runners around the city – their distinctive day-glow tops make them hard to miss – but I had no idea they ever moved at a slower pace. It turns out they do rambles as well as runs, and once a month they combine these with a storytelling element, partly to have a breather but also to bring the places they walk through to life. After a few emails with Martin, their fantastic chair (and a whiz with mapping tools), we agreed that it would be fun to do something for Halloween. Then I promptly forgot all about it for a few months as the project took off and I became immersed in collecting stories.

When Halloween began creeping closer, I looked through the archive to choose a route. My first idea was to head out towards Shenley Dens – the thought of telling the story of the Devil’s Den farm on location was tantalising – but the image of leading a crowd across muddy fields in October quickly brought me to my senses. Instead, I chose Wolverton. By then I’d already retold two fantastic stories from those streets, and loved the idea of taking them back to where they had happened. Martin planned a brilliant route that linked those with a few other stops across the city, and we were all set.

Thursday, October 30th 2025, 2:30pm

If you’ve been reading for a while, you’ll know I’d never done anything remotely like this before, so I was more than a bit nervous when I arrived – very early! – at our meeting point at Wolverton House. (Yes, just across the road from Andy’s encounter with the Grim Reaper… I really should have included that one.)

I needn’t have worried. The first thing to greet me was an adorable black-and-white kitten who climbed onto my knee and tried to eat my necklace. One of the staff told me there were half a dozen of them living around the pub, doing a fine job of keeping the mice under control. He darted off chasing something I couldn’t see, and it was time for me to meet the walkers. (And no – not those walkers.)

My first thought was that this couldn’t possibly be the right group – there were so many people! I’d expected maybe half a dozen; there were closer to thirty by the time Martin asked me to introduce myself. What an audience for my first ever ghost walk!

We were lucky with the weather. The day before had been all heavy rain and gloom, but Thursday was overcast yet dry. I’d have preferred a bit of fog for atmosphere, but the autumn colour was at its most vivid, with bright leaves scattered across the Redways for us to crunch through as we walked. People were wonderfully chatty from the start, and, to my delight, several began sharing their own strange experiences with me as we went.

Here’s the route we took – four miles winding from Wolverton Mills and quickly slipping away from the main roads into the quieter residential streets beyond.

When the traffic noise faded, we stopped and I began with the first story – or rather, stories – starting with the Black Horse pub at Great Linford. I saw quite a few nods of recognition as I spoke.

Next, we moved into the smaller backstreets, where I shared Paula’s story from Green Lane, right there on the very street where it had all happened. (I never know the exact addresses, so I did find myself glancing up at the windows, just in case one opened with an “Oi!”) It stayed eerily quiet throughout – though I caught a few uneasy looks when the ghost’s name was revealed.

The next stop, just around the corner, brought a gentler tone – Carol’s story about the comforting presence she felt in her Stacey Avenue home. That one really resonated, and as we walked to the next stop, I had a fascinating chat with someone about her own experience of a protective presence watching over her daughter.

We carried on past Wolverton’s urban farm and the cemetery – perhaps too on-the-nose to pause there – and stopped instead in the nearby park for the final story, WretchedDoll’s haunting encounter on the railway bridge in Bradwell. People immediately recognised the location, and I suspect that tale of the eerie floating figure will come to mind next time they cross it.

We posed for a group photo, then wandered back to the pub for a cuppa and more conversation. I heard about a fascinating haunting at a school in Great Linford – one I very much hope I’ll be able to share with you all one day.

What a fantastic experience. I met wonderful people, performed four stories for an enthusiastic audience, and got my steps in for the day! I don’t have any immediate plans to start running guided walks, but it’s certainly something I’ll be thinking about for the future.

Halloween might not have brought fog or darkness, but there was still a kind of magic in the air – the sense of stories coming home. As we walked, our footsteps echoed through streets built on centuries of change, in a city that’s not supposed to be haunted at all. And yet, for one overcast afternoon, the ghosts of Milton Keynes found their way back to the grid, keeping pace beside us in the crunch of leaves and the rhythm of the Redways.

A huge thank-you to Martin for the invitation (and for organising everything so perfectly) and to all the brilliant walkers who came along!