Supernatural Ghosties

Recently, our student house has become spooked with tales of ghost stories. Particularly last night when we spent almost two hours in my dark bedroom by candlelight talking about the supernatural and all that. Weird coincidences, supernatural sightings and super freaky dreams. It had us hooked.
And so lately, we are determined that in our house we have a ghost. We’re not sure if they are a friendly run-of-the-mill Casper kind of ghost, or a ‘I will haunt you to your doom’ ghost, but even so, my boyfriend and I were scared enough to run upstairs holding hands asking our youngest female room mate if we could sleep in her room for the night. Whether you believe in ghosts or not, I am ashamed to admit that that move right there is particularly wussy – even if there was a freaking ghost in our house.

If we do have a ghost, I hope he just does this

     We have not much evidence as of yet that we house a ghost in our humble abode, but we have a fair few reasons why we believe: I’ll let you read them, see what you think.

  • I have frequently emerged out of my bedroom to find my key has been taken out of the lock and is on the floor. This almost always happens when nobody else is home. Once it happened at night time, and I was, well, a little freaked out.
  • A few weeks ago, we were sat in the living room watching television (because we live the student life the hell up) and Mal, my kitten, came running in like a zooming spacecraft! She probably thought she was in a space shuttle like in Firefly. She suddenly ran into a standstill and arched her back up as high as she could and started hissing like crazy at something in the corner of the room. We couldn’t see it, whatever she was hissing at. But she was so freaked out. They say animals have a weird sense of these things, or whatever.
  • And just today, my roommate, Sam, was about to go out… (continue down!)

I heard him muttering behind me, cursing, but I was working so left him to it. I leave him to mutter about a lot of things really. Usually, they’re not very important. But he turned around, tapped me on the shoulder and said, “No way, Emily, I am not even joking. Look at this.” He showed me a funeral director’s card that had come from his pocket.
“Yeah, so what?” I answered.
“This was in my pocket. It was not in there yesterday because I always walk with my hands in my pockets. Why the hell would I put a funeral director’s card in my pocket?”
I suggested to him that maybe he did it when he was drunk. He adamantly replied no.
“I was wearing it yesterday and it wasn’t there. And I haven’t been drunk since new year’s. I didn’t put this in here.”
We looked at each other and, well maybe because we like the heightened drama, we wailed and exclaimed “AH GHOOOOST” at each other. I’m hoping it was a roommate playing a joke on him. He went out and then rang me about five minutes later. And he said that he’d found another funeral director’s card in his trouser pocket this time.
“I kid you not,” he said. “Where the hell are these coming from?!”

     So, either it’s one of us playing a joke on him (which I really hope it is), or this house ghost has ordered him a death wish.
Creepy.

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