Hello and welcome back to paranormal activity. This is Monday Mail Time with me producer Dom,

where we dive into your experiences and your stories, so let's get straight into it. And without

further ado, let's dive into the mailbag for a first story of today's episode.

This comes from Georgia. Hiya, love the show and I never thought I'd write in, but something happened a few years back in Manchester that I still can't explain. I was visiting a friend who worked late shifts at a community sports centre. One evening offered to walk over and meet him so we could head home together. The place is surrounded by a big open-air car park, flat tarmac, floodlights on tall metal poles, nothing fan or atmospheric about it. Not exactly the setting you expect for anything paranormal.

I got there early and figured I'd wait outside. It was just turning dusk, not dark yet, but the sky was fading.

I was standing by one of the thudlight posts when out of nowhere the light above me blinked off, then the next one, and the next.

Like a line of light switching off in sequence, one after another steadily toward me.

At first I thought it was a power issue, until they reached a pole directly beside me, and that one stayed on.

But the one behind me, further down a row, clicked off instead, as if whatever was moving wasn't following the wiring, it was following me.

The air didn't change, no sound, no chill, nothing dramatic,

but there was this unmistakable sense of being noticed. I stepped back, the light to my left went out,

just once, clean, deliberate, like someone had thrown a switch. They weren't flickering, they weren't

failing, they were reacting. I find a call my friend trying to sound casual and asked him to come out, and right as he opened the door to the sports centre, every single light snapped back on at the same time. I didn't say anything until we were halfway home. When I finally told him, he raised an eyebrow and said, you're not the first. People mention odd stuff happening out there when they're alone, lights mostly, always in the same pattern. I've walked through plenty of empty spaces at dusk, but never again in that car park.

Whatever was out there wasn't trying to scare me, it just felt aware, and that, if I'm being

honest, was definitely worse.

Georgia, your story hit me with that slow building dread that only comes from something

subtle, precise, and targeted. not chaotic, not dramatic, just

to wear a completely empty car park that should have been the least paranormal place on earth.

And what makes your experience so striking is how clean the behaviour was, the sequence of

light shutting down, skipping one beside you, reacting when you moved, and then everything

snapping back on the second another person arrived.

That's not random failure, that's not loose wiring, that's patterned, and pattern is where

...