The Spectre of Willow House
A group of friends and I were staying at Willow House on a stag weekend. I however, was not drinking as I was ill. While in bed on the first night, I woke from a vivid dream and without opening my eyes I knew there was menace in the room. I squinted in the dark but could see nothing. I used the clapper on the lights to illuminate the room and as I tried to pull myself from the bed, I felt like i was being held down by a huge force. I was freezing and struggling for breath. I could feel and smell foul disembodied breath in my face. THen I heard it wheeze "Tell those cunts at B3ta to stop writing long stories that end in fucking awful pun/play on word things. It ceased being funny before it started. Same with the wank/tea thing and apologies for length. Seriously. I will fucking kill someone if they don't stop. These people are utter cunts. tell them if they wish to inflict these awful attempts at humor on anyone, to note them down and post them to themselves. Fuck, as if it's not bad enough being dead"

Weird, eh?

Oh, and if cats and dogs can be ghosts, does that mean rats and cockroaches can be too? What about sturgeon? Or foetuses? there is no such thing as ghosts. Only schizophrenia, mass hysteria and the ever present power of suggestion
(clusterfuck detesting 'length' jokes since, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 20:59, 3 replies)

Did the voice
then add a ps about the only thing worse than poor quality posts are people whining about other peoples posts in an even worse post?

I would have thought it probably did.
( Bazongaloid, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 21:40, closed)

that is uncanny
that happened to me too, only replace the ghost with the internet and the message with what you just wrote
(europe-who, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 22:10, closed)

creepy place, Willow House......
I stayed in that place too. There was a creepy old guy called Desmond Peck who worked there. One night he started telling us of some of the strange things he had seen during his tenure.
He told us that if we paid him a little extra he would arrange for us to be sent all the way down to the basement in the dumb waiter. When we offered to pay (there were two of us) he said 'stick it in the tin in the basement'. I have never been as scared as I was that night being lowered through the building into it's very bowels, the journey seemed to take ages until we reached the bottom. Sure enough when I got out and my eyes grew accustomed to the light I saw a tin on the floor. Written on the tin in faded letters 'Des Peck tariff - Willow house'.
( Lord & Lady Pants, Thu 10 Jul 2008, 14:53, closed)