Further to the ghost post earlier this month, this is my buddy George relating a horrifying tale as we stalk the paths of Brompton Cemetery:
This kind of story is standard for him because he's from an old family who know a load of old families who all live in old houses that all have had chamber maids die in the attic or disabled children that have been locked in towers or ancestors that have stolen land from gypsies etc. He literally has hundreds of these tales.
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4 comments:
This guy needs a slot on tv just before bed time every night.
Let me just tell you one more ghost story. Sorry if it's boring but i just had to write it somewhere... I bought this flat a couple of years ago now from some rich guy whose son lived in the flat next door(he had both flats and was selling this one). I like to sleep with my head at the end of the bed which is not against the wall, i dont like to be under the window, so basically my head is now in the middle of the room. When me and the good lady were drifting off to sleep we kept feeling this fucking breeze on our heads. I tried to block every draft out of that room, i even went to homebase or soemwhere and got a piece of inch thick mdf cut to the shape of the window cavity so i could totally block the window area. I put a king size duvet infront of the door gap so no air could blow under it. But in those last few moments of awakedness as i drifted to sleep in the dead silence of night, something would blow over my head. Then i started to notice a creaking coming from the cieling, but that didnt bother me too much coz it could be anything.
Anyway i've kind of got use to the draft every now and then and learnt to live with it and more or less even forgot that it is there. But then the guy next door mooved out all of a sudden. He was a quiet guy, never saw much too of him. I bumped into him in a pub around six months later, had a few drinks so tongues are loose and i ask him, so why did you move out then? He tells me he just couldn't live there because of all the bad memories. I said what the fuck do you mean bad memories? So he told me, you remember my dad sold you that flat? Well it was my brothers, he hung himself in his bedroom.
Nice one, 'his bedroom' is now my bedroom and he was found hanging right above where my head lays on the pillow. Now i lay there most nights just waiting for that cold breeze.
holy fucking shit.
RAAAAH!
thats intense
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