I never did believe in ghosts but...I was at my girlfriends house visiting when she went off to get something from the kitchen. I looked to my right and saw what appeared to be a great deal of smoke in the room next to me. I asked my gf if she had left a cigarette burning in the other room. She said no. Then I looked again, and the smoke kind of scrunched up to the ceiling and took off straight into the wall. I said 'Whoa!-- did you see that?' and she thought I was giving her the business when I explained it to her. After I told her, she was freaking out, so I figured I would use it to my advantage. I told her, lets try and talk to this 'ghost' or whatever it was. Figuring it wouls scare her and I would get a little action maybe. Thinking, no way anything was going to happen I asked her what we could do to get this smoke thing back. She didnt believe me, but she was kinda creeped out and went along. All I said was 'If there is someone else here, prove that you are here!' That was when the table lamp across the room turned itself off on its own. Both of us nearly shat ourselves. The lamp was plugged in to an outlet with the TV still on. I checked the lamp out, it was fine. The bulb was fine. I had to manually turn the thing back on (it was one of those lamps that you have to turn the knob off or on, not a switch). It never had failed before that or after that. 2 days later she moved out. Said she couldnt take it. Something was definately wrong there. I dont know whether it was just 'chance' that it happened like it did, but that is certainly too coincidental..
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Wed 29 Oct 2003, 8:02,
archived)
Ghostie Hound: Its long but will scare the shite outa you.When i was a kid, my friend Stu's dad used to own a pub in the East End called the Wailing Hound, the pub was so called due to an incident when it was very first built, thus:
The first owners had a large Great Dane called 'Bongo'. Behind the bar there was a stone trapdoor leading to the celler, that in that day of crap technology (and Ideas) was propped up with just a stick. Anyway, legend had it that Bongo trotted passed the trapdoor and knocked the stick with his hind leg causing the stone to crash down onto his tail. The tail came completley off and Bongo died a few days later from an infection of the wound. In the years to follow many people thought they heard the wailing of Bongo's spirit, hence the current name of the pub 'The Wailing Hound'.
Now, Back in the 80's I was staying in the pub with my mate Stu and his old man one Night, when at around 01:00 was awoken by the most terrifying noise I have ever heard, a shrill wail of a dog in agony comming from the bar downstairs.
I jumped out of bed, as did Stu who was in the same room, we were shitting ourselves. Stu's old man come in the room and told us to follow him. We all creeped down the stairs and peeked into the bar area, where, i shit you not, there was the ghost of 'Bongo' wailing his fucking head off chasing a non existant tail round and round in circles.
By this time Stu had pissed his pants and shakily asked his old man what he thought we should do, "Fuck all we can do lad" he replied, "against the law to re-tail spirits after hours"
(,
Wed 29 Oct 2003, 10:30,
archived)
The first owners had a large Great Dane called 'Bongo'. Behind the bar there was a stone trapdoor leading to the celler, that in that day of crap technology (and Ideas) was propped up with just a stick. Anyway, legend had it that Bongo trotted passed the trapdoor and knocked the stick with his hind leg causing the stone to crash down onto his tail. The tail came completley off and Bongo died a few days later from an infection of the wound. In the years to follow many people thought they heard the wailing of Bongo's spirit, hence the current name of the pub 'The Wailing Hound'.
Now, Back in the 80's I was staying in the pub with my mate Stu and his old man one Night, when at around 01:00 was awoken by the most terrifying noise I have ever heard, a shrill wail of a dog in agony comming from the bar downstairs.
I jumped out of bed, as did Stu who was in the same room, we were shitting ourselves. Stu's old man come in the room and told us to follow him. We all creeped down the stairs and peeked into the bar area, where, i shit you not, there was the ghost of 'Bongo' wailing his fucking head off chasing a non existant tail round and round in circles.
By this time Stu had pissed his pants and shakily asked his old man what he thought we should do, "Fuck all we can do lad" he replied, "against the law to re-tail spirits after hours"
