MONDAY MAILTIME: It Followed Me Home… And Something Told Me To Turn Back
Paranormal Activity with Yvette Fielding
adam.foster@createproductions.com
4.6 • 571 Ratings
🗓️ 29 March 2026
⏱️ 15 minutes
🧾️ Download transcript
Summary
This week on Monday Mailtime, Producer Dom is back reacting to two of your encounters that don’t just feel paranormal… they feel personal.
First, Alan shares a chilling experience inside the Tower of London: a place steeped in execution, imprisonment, and centuries of unresolved history.
What begins as a quiet autumn visit quickly turns into something far more unsettling when a raven locks eyes with him… and moments later, he feels a hand press into his back, despite no one being there. But it doesn’t end at the Tower. Because whatever noticed him… may have followed him home.
Then, Daniel takes us to Mount Olympus: a place once believed to be the literal home of the gods. What starts as a peaceful hike turns into something far more profound when the atmosphere shifts, the silence deepens, and an unseen presence makes itself known. A voice without language. A force without form. And a message that couldn’t be clearer: you are not permitted.
These aren’t just ghost stories.
These are encounters with places that feel guarded… watched… and unwilling to let you pass unnoticed.
Are some locations still protected by something ancient?
Can energy attach itself to you and follow you home?
And what happens when you step somewhere you were never meant to be?
Producer Dom reacts, breaks it down, and explores the darker paranormal possibilities behind both experiences.
Because sometimes… it’s not about what you see.
It’s about what sees you first.
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Transcript
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| 0:00.0 | Hello and welcome back to Monday Mail Time with me producer Dom on the Paranormal Activity podcast |
| 0:05.6 | where we dive into your experiences in your stories. |
| 0:08.4 | So, without further ado, let's dive into the mailbag for our first story of today's episode. |
| 0:13.5 | This comes from Alan. |
| 0:15.4 | Hi, a paranormal activity team. I'm Alan, and this happened to me at the Tower of London, |
| 0:19.2 | and I can't shake the feeling that something there followed me home. It was late autumn, not peak tourist season, so it wasn't as crowded as you'd expect. The sky was low and grey, not dramatic, just heavy. The kind of day where everything feels slightly muted. We've been walking around for a while listening to the history, the executions, the imprisonment of royal rivals, the quiet |
| 0:37.6 | brutality of it all, you hear those stories that they feel distant, centuries ago, safely |
| 0:42.5 | finished. |
| 0:43.5 | But standing inside the walls, it doesn't feel finished. |
| 0:46.0 | I remember drifting slightly away from my brother near the Ravens. |
| 0:49.5 | One of them was perched higher than the others, completely motionless. |
| 0:52.7 | Its feathers looked almost oily in the dull |
| 0:54.3 | light. It wasn't blinking, it wasn't shifting. It was staring at me. Not at the crowd, scanning, |
| 1:00.2 | at me. I felt it physically, a stare. My stomach flipped and my scalp prickled like static. |
| 1:06.1 | I tried to look away, but every time I did, I felt this pull to look back, like if I broke |
| 1:10.5 | eye contact |
| 1:11.1 | something worse would happen then the Raven opened his beak and let out this harsh |
| 1:15.0 | guttural sound not a typical call it sounded strained wrong and at that exact |
| 1:20.3 | moment I felt fingers pressed firmly into the center of my back not a brush not a |
| 1:24.6 | bump from a stranger five distinct points of pressure I lurched forward and spun around. There was no one close enough. The nearest visitors were a few metres away, taking photos in the opposite direction. My brother was still beside me, completely unaware. When I turned back, the raven was gone from the perch. I don't know how to explain what happened next without sounding dramatic, but the atmosphere shifted. |
| 1:44.5 | The daylight felt dimmer somehow. |
| 1:46.1 | My ears started ringing and the chatter of the crowd felt warped, not silent, just distorted, |
... |
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