When I was five years old, I had a reoccurring dream where a monster (that looked suspiciously like Oscar the Grouch) would climb out of the toilet, come down the hallway, and drag me out of my room to his watery domain, tickling me along the way.
Over and over and over. Going to bed was a damn trial.
To combat this, once my parents were in bed I would pad down the hallway and flick on the hall's light switch.
My dad would hear me scamper back down the hallway, and then get up to turn it back off. And when he went back to bed, I'd pad back down and do it again.
One night, he had enough. And after he heard me run back to my room, he turned off the light and waited in the dark. When I turned on the switch again, he was waiting.
I screamed, and asked: "Are you a ghost?!"
"Yes I am and go back to bed! Raaargh!"
Then I ran back to my room, and didn't come out until the morning.
Dad goes back into the master bedroom, looks at my mother, and says: "I forgot I didn't have any clothes on."
Yes, I saw my father's naked body and thought he was a ghost. I was five.
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She was living on a rather large estate in Nottingham (yes, *that* Nottingham, she even met the Sheriff at the time). My mom was just about nine years old and the family had moved onto the property, history unknown.
Turns out, a young woman had committed suicide on the property, she had drowned herself in the fountain in front of the house. Her father was a wealthy landowner, her young beau was a field-hand, beautiful and bankrupt, like so many young men of the 1850's.
And my mother saw her, garbed in a white wedding dress, ready for marriage, at the top of the stairs, pointing at the flower outside the window at the base of the stairs.
Mom looked around to the flowerbox, then back at the lady at the top of the stairs. Of course, she was gone.
But the flowerbox was full.
Three hundred pounds, sterling silver, hidden in the flowerbox for the young couple to elope.
In case you aren't aware, that's a catastrophic amount of money in the middle of the nineteenth century; it's enough to start a new life anywhere in the world.
So, believe what you will, but there's at least one person in the world who has seen a ghost and I happen to know her.
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TIFunkaliciousKicking back inNebraskaRegistered Userregular
dubstep?
But dubstep hasn't been around for 800 years!
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#pipeCocky Stride, Musky odoursPope of Chili TownRegistered Userregular
Lately, due to my recent isolation, i've been questioning my existence.
I've become more emotionally with drawn, when in public unless i am moving something no one acknowledges my presence, and I'm fairly sure I've walked through a closed door. It might have been the wind closing it behind me however.
The constant wailing is new as well, and I can no longer enter the den.
But the real eye opener, is I fucking love Dubstep.
So, anyway if someone could help with out this this, I can't promise I won't try to kill or possess you, I'd be grateful.
Man this really took you a while to figure out didn't you
Lately, due to my recent isolation, i've been questioning my existence.
I've become more emotionally with drawn, when in public unless i am moving something no one acknowledges my presence, and I'm fairly sure I've walked through a closed door. It might have been the wind closing it behind me however.
The constant wailing is new as well, and I can no longer enter the den.
But the real eye opener, is I fucking love Dubstep.
So, anyway if someone could help with out this this, I can't promise I won't try to kill or possess you, I'd be grateful.
Man this really took you a while to figure out didn't you
Posts
of course not canada isn't real
just a fable made to trick people into moving into the subarctic
When I was five years old, I had a reoccurring dream where a monster (that looked suspiciously like Oscar the Grouch) would climb out of the toilet, come down the hallway, and drag me out of my room to his watery domain, tickling me along the way.
Over and over and over. Going to bed was a damn trial.
To combat this, once my parents were in bed I would pad down the hallway and flick on the hall's light switch.
My dad would hear me scamper back down the hallway, and then get up to turn it back off. And when he went back to bed, I'd pad back down and do it again.
One night, he had enough. And after he heard me run back to my room, he turned off the light and waited in the dark. When I turned on the switch again, he was waiting.
I screamed, and asked: "Are you a ghost?!"
"Yes I am and go back to bed! Raaargh!"
Then I ran back to my room, and didn't come out until the morning.
Dad goes back into the master bedroom, looks at my mother, and says: "I forgot I didn't have any clothes on."
Yes, I saw my father's naked body and thought he was a ghost. I was five.
Twitch (I stream most days of the week)
Twitter (mean leftist discourse)
She was living on a rather large estate in Nottingham (yes, *that* Nottingham, she even met the Sheriff at the time). My mom was just about nine years old and the family had moved onto the property, history unknown.
Turns out, a young woman had committed suicide on the property, she had drowned herself in the fountain in front of the house. Her father was a wealthy landowner, her young beau was a field-hand, beautiful and bankrupt, like so many young men of the 1850's.
And my mother saw her, garbed in a white wedding dress, ready for marriage, at the top of the stairs, pointing at the flower outside the window at the base of the stairs.
Mom looked around to the flowerbox, then back at the lady at the top of the stairs. Of course, she was gone.
But the flowerbox was full.
Three hundred pounds, sterling silver, hidden in the flowerbox for the young couple to elope.
In case you aren't aware, that's a catastrophic amount of money in the middle of the nineteenth century; it's enough to start a new life anywhere in the world.
So, believe what you will, but there's at least one person in the world who has seen a ghost and I happen to know her.
But dubstep hasn't been around for 800 years!
Or maybe 50 years of life has skewed her memory
and what she saw was actually a leprechaun
Need some stuff designed or printed? I can help with that.
Man this really took you a while to figure out didn't you
This will be here until I receive an apology or Weedlordvegeta get any consequences for being a bully
I'm fairly certain that leprechauns hang out in Ireland, sir. A leprechaun in Nottingham makes no sense whatsoever.
Especially a leprechaun in drag.
Don't be ridiculous.
They're
my favorite april fools news story ever
this pun gave me an aneurism
Press ctrl h... check all the boxes and go!
"Sandra has a good solid anti-murderer vibe. My skin felt very secure and sufficiently attached to my body when I met her. Also my organs." HAIL SATAN
I don't know, I saw a Canada once while walking home on a deserted road a couple of years ago. It also might have been a drunk person.
Either way, I believe.
Also the best way to tell if you're a ghost is to walk through a wall. These are the ghost facts of life.
What's that? do you hear that? It sounds like he wants us to check his cache
But see it makes so much sense
because it pointed out a pot of silver, which your mother took away.
leprechauns hate silver
Need some stuff designed or printed? I can help with that.
This checks out. I'm likely to believe him.