In Wellington, New Zealand’s parliamentary precinct, a unique after-hours experience offers ghostly tales intermingled with the historical fabric of the building. During a recent tour, participants encountered a dramatic scene when a veiled woman, seemingly a spectre, burst from an elevator, startling a small crowd. Their guide, donned in flowing Victorian attire, cheerfully invited viewers to take the elevator, though none chose to do so.
This unconventional tour, held outside of parliamentary sessions, aims to delve deep into the precinct’s darker past, blending factual accounts with local folklore regarding unexplained phenomena and tragic events. Participants heard eerie narratives about the parliamentary library, a stunning yet ominous gothic structure, which has withstood fire, flood, and the antics of feral cats since its completion in 1899.
As the evening unfolded, the guides, enveloped in their characters, delighted in startling the attendees with theatrical screams that echoed around empty chambers. Amidst tales of spectral figures and strange noises, guests learned about historical storms that caused havoc within the building and the odd tradition of librarians responding to disasters in a rather unusual state of undress.
An interesting thread wove through the stories, relating to notorious figures like William Larnach, a politician whose tragic suicide in 1898 allegedly left behind an enduring spirit in parliament. Folklore also speaks of his missing skull, infamously discovered years later in a student’s possession.
Moving into the basement, the tone shifted further into the macabre, with guests hearing about ghostly apparitions and uncanny occurrences, such as hands reaching from the shelves and mysterious songs emanating from empty restrooms. Participants emerged from the dimly lit corridors slightly shaken, their expectations exceeded by the depth of history marred by unexpected fatalities, as one visitor remarked.
Others reflected on the stark irony of uncovering the legacies of those whose fates were sealed within the walls of parliament, resonating far beyond their physical absence. As guides returned to their customary narratives for future tours, they shared a lingering sentiment that the haunted spirit of the precinct remained thick in the air, evoking both curiosity and trepidation from those who wandered its storied halls.