Beyond Midnight - A True Ghost Story

Summary

Podcast Summary: Harold's Old Time Radio

Episode: Beyond Midnight – A True Ghost Story
Date: March 13, 2026
Host: Harold’s Old Time Radio

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Overview

This episode spotlights a classic radio play from the golden age—the haunting and atmospheric “Beyond Midnight: A True Ghost Story.” Listeners are transported to post-World War I England, where a young writer’s search for solitude leads him to an ordinary house with extraordinary secrets. The story skillfully mixes the mundane with the supernatural, creating a psychologically intense ghost story about unresolved regret and the burdens that linger after death.

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Key Discussion Points and Story Highlights

1. Setting the Scene: The Summer of 1921

• The narrator, Mr. Fielden, recounts his youthful journey to the English countryside during an idyllic summer (02:58).
• He reminisces:

  “To be alive, but to be young was very heaven. I was as old as the century. 21.” (01:06)

• The tranquil atmosphere soon gives way to subtle disquiet in his new lodgings.

2. The House at Sevastopol Terrace

• Fielden boards at No. 2 Sevastopol Terrace, run by Mrs. Wayne, a widow, and shared with Mrs. Jennison (05:22).
• Initially, the atmosphere is warm and congenial, with shared meals and an easy domesticity (05:31).
• Fielden’s creative ambitions flounder; instead, he is overtaken by a growing sense of unease, especially when alone in the house (07:28, 08:18).

3. The Haunting Presence

• Fielden describes “a strange unevenness” and a sense of being followed through the house (08:18).
• He shares this growing fear, stating:

  “I became certain I was being followed by something down the stairs. ... For some strange, strange reason, I was afraid to stay in that house in Sebastopol Terrace alone.” (08:18)

• Mrs. Wayne’s background—her husband’s suicide after the war—is gradually revealed as the core of the haunting (09:41–11:29).

4. Tragedy and Trauma: Mrs. Wayne’s Story

• Mrs. Wayne recounts her premonition and the tragic suicide of her husband, Sidney Wayne, shortly after his return from war (09:53–11:29).
• She reflects on war’s impact on the psyche:

  “There was a lot like that when they came back. Killed him in action, you might say.” (11:39)

5. Escalation of the Supernatural

• The turning point comes when Sidney’s photograph falls from the mantelpiece—interpreted as a supernatural sign (14:27).
• After this event, Fielden realizes:

  “Then I knew that we were not three in that house, but four.” (15:13)

• He seeks clarity and encounters a woman on the promenade at Lowestoft who offers spiritual interpretation and guidance (15:13–18:46).

6. The Spirit’s Message

• The woman suggests Fielden is meant to be a medium between Sidney’s restless spirit and Mrs. Wayne:

  “He's in touch with you to be his messenger. ... You must take it and let the poor ghost free.” (17:43, 17:54)

• She urges Fielden to confront his fears and allow the spirit to communicate (18:21).

7. Climax: The Ghostly Encounter

• Alone in the house, Fielden experiences a terrifying vision:

  “I thought I saw something, a limp form unnaturally hanging in the room in front of me.” (21:36)

• The sense of dread peaks, but then subsides, replaced by a strange tranquility (21:36–23:13).

8. Resolution: Release Through Communication

• The supernatural tension resolves when Mrs. Wayne receives a mysterious letter in Fielden’s handwriting but authored by Sidney’s spirit (26:11–26:58).
• Emotional confrontation and catharsis follow. Mrs. Wayne recognizes:

  “He came to you. And now he's gone forever.” (27:29)

• The ghost’s purpose—seeking forgiveness—is fulfilled, and the haunting ends.

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• On Youth and Summer:
  “To be alive, but to be young was very heaven.” – Mr. Fielden (01:06)

• On Fear:
  “For some strange, strange reason, I was afraid to stay in that house... alone.” – Mr. Fielden (08:18)

• On War’s Aftermath:
  “There was a lot like that when they came back. Killed him in action, you might say.” – Mrs. Wayne (11:39)

• On the Purpose of Ghosts:
  “He's in touch with you to be his messenger. ... You must take it and let the poor ghost free.” – Woman at Lowestoft Promenade (17:43, 17:54)

• On Release:
  “He came to you. And now he's gone forever.” – Mrs. Wayne (27:29)

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Key Timestamps

• 01:06 – Fielden sets the stage; recollections of the summer of 1921
• 05:22 – First arrival at Sevastopol Terrace; introduction to Mrs. Wayne
• 08:18 – Fielden describes the onset of fear in the house
• 09:53–11:29 – Mrs. Wayne recounts her husband’s suicide and its aftermath
• 14:27–15:13 – Sidney’s photo falls; realization of the haunting
• 16:21–18:46 – Conversation with the woman on the promenade; Fielden’s role as messenger
• 21:36–23:13 – Fielden’s direct ghostly encounter in the kitchen
• 26:11–27:29 – Emotional revelation with Mrs. Wayne; the ghost’s message fulfilled

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Tone and Style

The episode maintains the language and tenor of vintage radio drama—measured, atmospheric, and emotionally restrained. The narration blends poetic description with psychological suspense, immersing listeners in a quietly chilling supernatural tale.

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Conclusion

“Beyond Midnight: A True Ghost Story” is a striking example of golden age radio’s power to blend simple domesticity with deep emotional and supernatural currents. Through subtle tension, poignant backstory, and a cathartic finale, it explores themes of regret, post-war trauma, and the longing for forgiveness.

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Perfect for listeners who love classic supernatural tales, quiet suspense, and psychological depth—delivered in timeless radio style.

Transcript

[American Lung Association Announcer]

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[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Dear Ghost,

[Commercial Announcer]

Dear Ghost

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Dear Ghost, this is a true story. There is not much point in inventing ghost stories. Anyone can do it. It's rather like playing a game whose rules one has made up without telling one else what they the events I'm going to report took place in a glorious blaze in the most marvellous summer in living memory England. The summer of 1921. Good it was that summer. To be alive, but to be young was very heaven. I was as old as the century. 21

[Commercial Announcer]

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[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

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[Commercial Announcer]

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[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

There are plenty of people still alive who will recall the endless procession of golden days. 1921. Its unclouded dawns, its magnificent loom of blue and gold, its days sinking into warm noble evenings full of the promise of another day, of the kind of summer one dreams about but seldom guess. I was living at this time with my parents in Taunton and they, knowing my ways, were not at all put out when I went off saying I would write When I found out where I was going. I had never been to Chrome Stratford. I read its name and decided I made up my own fantasy of Characters I was the only passenger to a light. 4 o' clock in the afternoon. The whole earth drows pleasantly in the heat. Crime.

[Commercial Announcer]

Stratford, Crown Trafford.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

The station master wore a cap of golden braid, but it appeared he was doing duty as porter as well. It was good to be 21 at Crome Stratford in the sun that summer.

[Commercial Announcer]

Crome Stratford.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Afternoon, sir. Ticket, please.

[Commercial Announcer]

Good afternoon. Oh, this is beautiful.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Oh, yes, thank you, sir. I want to stay here for a while. Have you any suggestions where I might put up? Put up? Well, there's the Bell Inn. Such if you don't mind a bit of jollification on market days and Saturday nights. Oh, well, you see, my stay is going to be quite a long one. I think I would prefer private accommodation. You go out of the station there you go over the bridge, you'll see four houses in a row. They're called Sevastopol Terrace. Now, you call at number two and ask for Mrs. Wayne. Tell her I sent you, Mr. Goldberry. I think you'll find she'll fix you up. The Sevastopol Terrace consisted of four red brick cottages without elegance of any sort. They could not have been more ordinary if the architect had entered a competition for the most ordinary and the most mediocre dwellings.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Please come in.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

So, thank you very much.

[Commercial Announcer]

Oh, it's a beautiful day.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Let me show you

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

a dead front room, seldom used. Uneasy chairs. A small piano with a fretwork front panel. The front room fire graters stuffed with orange tissue paper. Above the mantelpiece there was the enlarged photograph of a man in khaki. He was dark, with a full moustache and an expression of slight astonishment on his face. I made a satisfactory deal with Mrs. Wayne. The other lady was Mrs. Jennison, 50ish, stout, and as it was called then, a kindly, infectious laugh. I knew I was going to be comfortable. Six weeks or so, I decided upon time in which to write a novel. Oh, yes, that is what I had set my heart on doing. The blue cloudless days went by and I wrote not a word of the novel. I like my ladies. We took our meals together and the household was an easy one to dwell in. And then a strange unevenness began to make itself manifest in my mind. For no reason at all, it seemed, I began to be afraid of something. Afraid in a way that I never experienced before, or for that matter, since this time. As Dr. Johnson said, if you think well of what you earn at night, tear it up in the morning. House is quiet. Where are the ladies? Come on, Fielden. What's the matter with you? What is there to be afraid of, man?

[Mrs. Wayne]

So quiet.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

But there was no doubt about it. For some strange, strange reason, I was afraid to stay in that house in Sebastopol Terrace alone. Wayne, are you.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Are you going out? Yes, we're just going for a walk, Mr. Field. And we won't be long. Yes, we won't be allowed, Mr. Table.

[Commercial Announcer]

Just a little walk.

[Mrs. Wayne]

We're coming back to tea. Bye. Bye.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

You see, I became certain that I was being followed by something down the stairs. Whenever I'd been up to my room. It was worse somehow, when they were out of the house. All right, somehow, when they are here.

[Mrs. Wayne]

But so quiet.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Something wrongful. And I.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Stupid. Yes.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Yesterday too, when I went up to get my pen. I wasn't imagining it.

[Mrs. Wayne]

I wasn't.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

I knew, of course, that Mrs. Wayne was a widow. And I knew that that exceptionally plain soldier in the picture was her deceased husband. One Sunday, after the ceremonial tea, Mrs. Wayne had used him as a time take, as people do. She was putting the tea things together to take them out into the kitchen and was at that moment holding what I privately thought to be a very ugly teapot. Mrs. Jennison regarded the teapot. She nodded at it.

[Mrs. Wayne]

I always liked that teapot. Do you believe in premonition?

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

No, I can't say that I do. At any rate, I've never had one that was worth having.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Do you believe in premonitions, Mrs. Wales?

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Tell me about it, Mrs. West.

[Mrs. Wayne]

I'd rather not. It's a painful subject. She often thinks about that on Sundays. Two years ago, on a Sunday, she had a premonition of something awful all day. Her husband, who went into business when he came out of the army used to get up first and go off to work. That Monday morning when Mrs. Wayne came down, she found him in the kitchen. He'd hanged himself there.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Why?

[Mrs. Wayne]

There had to be an inquest, of course, but nothing definite ever came out of it. He had trouble, money or drink or something like that.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Well, there had to be a reason. There had to be.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Tell me about it.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Tell me what it was.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Well, if you ask me, it's only my opinion. Of course I'm asking you. Excuse me, I must go and help

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Mrs. W with the white. The reason. Tell me the reason.

[Mrs. Wayne]

I reckon that, like a lot of other men, couldn't settle down to ordinary life when he came out of the army, it wasn't the same anymore. Whatever makes you like life had gone out of it. He never liked being a soldier. But when he got back home. He didn't like that either. Some fellows managed better than he did.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

But it.

[Mrs. Wayne]

He couldn't.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Used to brood a lot.

[Mrs. Wayne]

You could hardly get a word out of him.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Sometimes I stared at the photograph of Sidney Wayne and then at Mrs. Jennison. Do you mean he killed himself because he was bored?

[Mrs. Wayne]

I didn't say bored. No, say lost. There was a lot like that when they came back. Killed him in action, you might say.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

I moved close to the photograph and stared at the dead face in it. He stared with the same cold intensity, not at me, but past me. It was horrible, the stillness of the face. Those eyes fixed on some object of vision beyond me or my glance. His hair was close cropped beneath his hat with its badge of the Suffolk regiment. The peak of the cat came down almost to the bridge of his nose, hiding his forehead. Nothing fitted with either his body, his temperament or his final act. Now that I knew what that could be. He was dressed for me in a horror of the grotesque. My eyes moved involuntarily to his neck and I turned away alike from the photograph and the dreadful images which I violently extruded from my mind.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Now, how shall we spend the evening? Is anyone to church or a walk? Or shall we have a game of cards?

[Commercial Announcer]

Darling, let's go out and paint the dun red.

[Mrs. Wayne]

But what about your headache?

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Oh, that's gone.

[Commercial Announcer]

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[Mrs. Wayne]

Ah, Grandpa.

[Commercial Announcer]

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[Mrs. Wayne]

Well, what do you think? A walk? Do you fancy? Well, that's enough, Mr. Fielder. Oh dear, look at that. Sydney's picture. Well, well, of course. I knew it would go one of these days. Get me a dustband and brush, will you? I'll soon clear this mess. All right. I'm sorry that happened. Now you'll have to have it framed. Oh, frame's broken. Too. I shan't do that. I never really liked that photograph. I only put it up there to please Sidney. I like to remember him the way he was before he went into the army. I shall just put it away somewhere.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

And then I knew that we were not three in that house, but four. The situation had taken a new turn. I did not know what to expect. I decided that that day after the falling of the pitcher, was a day to be spent by the sea. So accordingly, I went to Lowestoft. I soon settled with a newspaper on the promenade in a deck chair. There was an empty chair beside me. It was not empty long, though. A middle aged woman sat beside me. After only a few minutes, she made occasion to talk to me. You're troubled about something, aren't you?

[Commercial Announcer]

Yes.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Yes, I am. Will you tell me what it is? Um. Yes. Yes, all right, I will. And as if it was the most natural thing in the world, I told her the whole story. From my arrival in the house in Sebastopol Terrace right up until the falling of the picture. May I tell you what I think? Certainly. I'd like to hear. It's quite clear to me. I believe in spirits or ghosts or

[Mrs. Wayne]

whatever name you like to give to

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

that part of us that you now know exists when the body's fallen away.

[Mrs. Wayne]

That that poor spirit was given to his terrible I by distress, but was

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

very well to him, however silly you or anybody else may think it would have been.

[Mrs. Wayne]

And afterwards, in the clear vision death

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

brings with it, he saw how wrong

[Mrs. Wayne]

he had been, how cruel to that kind little woman. He. He's trying to tell her that and he can't till he has done it.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

He's in touch with you to be his messenger.

[Mrs. Wayne]

You know that now. But you're refusing the message.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Oh, you mustn't, my dear.

[Mrs. Wayne]

You must take it and let the poor ghost free.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

I. I can't do that. I won't.

[Commercial Announcer]

Lucy's name message, if there is one,

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

be carried some other way. You told me that you don't dare stay in the house when the others have gone out for a walk or. That's right. Darened is the right word.

[Mrs. Wayne]

That that's just the time when he

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

was trying hardest to get his message to you.

[Mrs. Wayne]

You must stay in the house and give him his chance.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

I doubt he'll leave you till you do. Maybe you're his only chance. How do you know?

[Mrs. Wayne]

You're well experienced. And now I must go home to lunch. How strange I should come to you this morning.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

And then he was gone walking against the sun so that I could hardly see her departure. I arrived back at crome Stratford at 6. Letters. I must keep up my correspondence.

[Mackenzie (GoFundMe Organizer)]

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[Mrs. Wayne]

GoFundMe is the world's number one fundraising platform, trusted by over 200 million people. Start your GoFundMe today at gofundme.com that's gofundme.com gofundme.com this podcast is supported by GoFundMe. The sun's shining, birds are singing, and all feels right in the world until

[American Lung Association Announcer]

the season changes and suddenly you lose your motivation to get out of bed. In fact, one in five people experience some form of depression no matter the season or time of year.

[Mrs. Wayne]

At the American center at the Psychiatric association foundation, our vision is to build a mentally healthy nation for all, because we want you to live your best life and be your best you all year round.

[American Lung Association Announcer]

Please visit mentallyhealthynation.org to learn more.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

If no great marvel is to come out of this holiday, but at least I must. I am out. Mrs. Wayne and Mrs. Jennison. The house is completely silent. Yet somehow I. I don't feel afraid anymore. Even though I'm in the kitchen where he. Where did the body hang?

[Mrs. Wayne]

Behind me or in front? There's.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

The little kitchen had the piece of a Dutch interior. The place shone quietly with care. There was not even a sound from the outside world. The shadows in the room moved solemnly with the sun and the light imperceptibly faded. The window was open a little at the top, and occasionally the curtains stirred in a passing soundless breeze. My eyes felt heavy and my limbs agreeably warm. I felt for the first time completely free of fear. Slowly I moved into that half slumber that one gets in church at sermon time. One hears the sound of the voice and sometimes the words, but the whole, the impressions are jumbled. And then something happened. Something happened that turned me into A thing of terror. I uttered a sound like a man in a nightmare. I struggled to shout at the dark terrors that flapped in my mind. I thought I saw something, a limp form unnaturally hanging in the room in front of me.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Been doing your correspondence? What a good man. Now, off you go while I make supper.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

I'll just get everything sorted out and then I can see where it stands tomorrow. I'm quite hungry.

[Mrs. Wayne]

A dead Mr. Field. And then she. Yes, she says, why, of course he

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

isn't an officer of the Royal Flying Corps.

[Mrs. Wayne]

He's wearing the uniform of an army chaplain. Then we all knew, you see, at once.

[Commercial Announcer]

Oh, Mrs. Sanderson, you're a giddy limit, you really are. Oh, dear.

[Mrs. Wayne]

You all right, dear? Quite all right. Why shouldn't I be? Oh, I thought maybe you had one of your headaches. Some maybe. No, no, I'm all right. This. Tired, perhaps. But since I'll go to bed shortly after supper. You do that. We'll wash up, won't we?

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Oh, rather. She had lost her air of commonplace acceptance of life. She looked like. What could it be like? Someone who had misled, laid a possession was trying to remember where it might be. She wasn't going to bed because she had a headache. She was going because she wanted to be alone, to think about whatever it was that preoccupied her. When the meal was over, she wrote.

[Mrs. Wayne]

Well, if you don't mind excusing. Not at all. Where you go, have a good rest.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

And so Mrs. Wayne went up to bed. Next morning I was having breakfast when I heard the postman knock at the door. I expected her to return to the kitchen where I sat at breakfast. I was reading the paper which I'd propped up against the teapot. Mrs. Wayne didn't come back. I thought she was being a long time out in the lobby. There's no sound at all. Then, just when I was going out to see if anything was the matter, she came in slowly. Her face, with its snub nose and sandy hair, was as pale as death. It had a terrible dignity of sadness, a piercing accusation, like an angel with a sword and a dreadful quietness. She held out to me a letter. The envelope and note paper were mine. It was addressed to someone called Meg.

[Mrs. Wayne]

How did you know he called me Meg?

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

I did not need to ask any questions. She had found this letter among my mail on a little table, and she gave the rest to the postman.

[Mrs. Wayne]

I

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

didn't know.

[Mrs. Wayne]

No, I never told you. Read the letter. I don't want to read it.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Max. Dear. Forgive me. Forgive me.

[Mrs. Wayne]

That's not my writing. It's his. But you wrote it. I found it with your letters. He came to you last night, didn't he?

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

I don't know.

[Mrs. Wayne]

I knew as soon as I came in. The house was empty.

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

He stayed with me until you came.

[Mrs. Wayne]

He was here. I knew he was always here. I didn't think anyone else would ever know. But you knew. He came to you. And now he's gone forever. You must stay in the house and

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

give him his choice. I doubt if he'll leave you until you do. Maybe you are his only child. Max, Dear Forgive me. Forgive me.

[Commercial Announcer]

Just soak, just soak in biotech Just soak, just soak in biotech Just soak, just soak in biotech if you have wondered how to get your washing really stain free, understand this Biotex removes the stains and dirt. Washing won't just soak, just soak in biotech stains grass stains, tiresome collar and cuff stains in grain, dirt, soil and grime out they all come and you don't stir a finger. Just soak, just soak in biotech. Biotex with natural enzymes is the pre wash powder with the most enzymes to give you extra pre wash power. Absolutely no rubbing, no color loss, no fabric wear. Use it for cotton, silks, woolen, synthetics. Use it to make new again. Soaking in Biotex removes the stains and dirt. But washing won't just soak, just soak in Biotex Beyond Midnight is presented every

[Narrator (Mr. Fielden)]

Friday night at half past nine by

[Commercial Announcer]

Biotex the new Soak and pre wash Powder. The program is adapted for broadcasting and Produced by Michael McCabe.