Halloween Story (cat lovers, do not read)

This is the scariest thing in the world to GROG;

** Angie's Ghost Story Part 9 **

“Why leave some floors un-fixed up? Why the 8th? When they renovated, why didn’t they do the whole place? They don’t want people going up there, they don’t want people to know about it, why not fix it all up? Why not fix up the basement?”

“Yeah, gee, it’s only where young people from all over the world come to visit Canada’s capitol city. That’s all. It’s like throwing them all in a toilet!”

“And flushing it!”

“That makes US the toilet paper.”

“The whole thing is crazy! And Mrs. Aldon knows it, so does Bridgett.”

Then I thought of something - “Hey, where is the gallows? What part of the hostel is it? Cause they say it’s still in operation, it’s..”

“It has to be up high, so the bodies can fall and swing.”

And Cindy looked at me, because we were getting the same idea.

“Maybe it’s on the 8th floor. It’s got to be. That was death row, remember from the book? And if the gallows faced the courtyard, that’s at the other end from where we come in off the stairs.”

‘You ever been there?” I was thinking of the shape I had seen the first day, it would have been back in that area.

“No.” she said.

More people came in, so we broke it off and I noticed Cindy hiding the books under the table. We took care of them, I had to help carry some suitcases out of a taxi, and when we finally sat back down together Cindy looked like she didn’t want to talk to me for some reason. Finally she turned to me and asked -

“What did you mean about a gaslight?”

I had no idea what she meant at first, then remembered, “The gaslight up on the 8th floor? That was the first thing I noticed when we went in.”

“What gaslight?”

“The one up at the top of the wall when you go inside.”

“There’s no gaslight in there.”

“Yeah there is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah, it’s up at the top in a glass shade, it’s a little burning gas jet mounted on an iron, like... mounting. Why?”

“There’s no gas jet up there, it’s all electric light, Nancy Drew!” And Cindy pulled my Nancy Drew book out of the desk’s left drawer. “Is this YOURS?”

“Um, yeah, well,..”

“C’mon, Nancy, hey, wait a sec, what’s Nancy’s friend’s name?”

“Which one?”

She was leafing through the book, “Her friend, her sidekick, y’know.”

“Who? Bess? Or her boyfriend?”

“Who’s the boyfriend?”

“Ah, Ned?”

“NED! That’s it! I was so hot for Ned when I was twelve, he’s the original Ken doll. Hey, I’m Nancy Drew and you’re Bess.”

“No way, it’s my book and I’m Nancy.”

“Nope, I get to screw Ned so I’m Nancy. You’re her best friend and fan, that’s why you have the book, to read about my astounding adventures.”

“Nuh-uh, and there’s still a gaslight up there.”

“Look, you’re crazy! They wouldn’t have gas on up there, it’s dangerous! Are you kidding, it’s not well lit, but it’s all electric, I know because Mrs. Aldon had trouble finding the switch when she showed me up there on my first morning, and finally turned it on. There’s no gas.”

“I saw it.”

“There isn’t. The Mystery of the Gaslight. Starring me as Nancy and you as her dumb assistant.”

“Screw you!”

“That’s Ned’s job, and MAN is he good at it. Alright, you're her befuddled but well-meaning assistant Bess the Wonderdog. Bet you there isn’t one up there.”

“Bet you there is. What you want to bet?”

“Loser has to sleep in the cellar all night. Just kidding! Loser has to.... I don’t know.”

“Loser has to go to the 8th floor and see if it says “Gallows - Last Exit” over the back door? Or. Loser has to go to the 8th floor and stay in one of the cells?”

“I’ve done that. Pass.”

“You have? You’re kidding!”

“Yeah, during the day it’s no big deal. I was going to do it when we were up there, but you chickened out.”

“Loser has to...”

“Loser has to go right to the back of the 8th floor, yelling ‘Ghosts come out, come and see me, we’re not afraid of no,... um, he-bee-jeebees!”
“He-bee-jee-bees?”

She smiled, “It rhymes great. Bet?”

“Okay, bet! And Nancy, what’s Ned really like? You know what I mean.”

“He’s GREAT in the sack, but I gotta train him to take his socks off, Bess.” She looked at me with an evil grin. “He wants to fuck you too, he told me. I told him you were well-meaning but befuddled in bed. C’mon, lets go!” She stood up.

“Wait.” It was twenty to eleven. “Lets go up at eleven, then we can lock the front door. If we’re both going up.”

“We’re both going up. Scared?”

“Nope. We know where all the bodies are now. And it’s not on the 8th floor.”

Do Canadian ghosts say, "Boo, eh?"

Our local sewage treatment plant has an "eternal flame" that burns off the methane. I think the gas lamp burns off the ghost farts.

Great story so far Cammo, I'm starting to get a little spooked (but just a little :D )

Hey GROG! Just ask Pamela, she's Canadian -

And MadMike, don't touch that dial!

You saying she's Canadian or that she's been mounted?

On 2009-10-17 18:01, Cammo wrote:
** Angie's Ghost Story Part 9 **

“Why leave some floors un-fixed up, eh? Why the 8th, eh? When they renovated, why didn’t they do the whole place,eh? They don’t want people going up there, they don’t want people to know about it, why not fix it all up,eh? Why not fix up the basement,eh?”

“Yeah, gee, it’s only where young people from all over the world come to visit Canada’s capitol city. That’s all. It’s like throwing them all in a toilet,eh?”

“And flushing it,eh?”

“That makes US the toilet paper,eh?”

“The whole thing is crazy, eh? And Mrs. Aldon knows it, so does Bridgett, eh?”

Then I thought of something - “Hey, where is the gallows, eh? What part of the hostel is it, eh? Cause they say it’s still in operation, it’s..”

“It has to be up high, so the bodies can fall and swing, eh?”

And Cindy looked at me, because we were getting the same idea.

“Maybe it’s on the 8th floor, eh? It’s got to be, eh? That was death row, remember from the book, eh? And if the gallows faced the courtyard, that’s at the other end from where we come in off the stairs, eh?”

‘You ever been there, eh?” I was thinking of the shape I had seen the first day, it would have been back in that area.

“No, eh?” she said.

More people came in, so we broke it off and I noticed Cindy hiding the books under the table. We took care of them, I had to help carry some suitcases out of a taxi, and when we finally sat back down together Cindy looked like she didn’t want to talk to me for some reason. Finally she turned to me and asked -

“What did you mean about a gaslight, eh?”

I had no idea what she meant at first, then remembered, “The gaslight up on the 8th floor, eh? That was the first thing I noticed when we went in, eh?”

“What gaslight, eh?”

“The one up at the top of the wall when you go inside, eh?”

“There’s no gaslight in there, eh?”

“Yeah there is, eh?”

“Nuh-uh, eh?”

“Yeah, it’s up at the top in a glass shade, it’s a little burning gas jet mounted on an iron, like... mounting. Why, eh?”

“There’s no gas jet up there, it’s all electric light, Nancy Drew, eh?” And Cindy pulled my Nancy Drew book out of the desk’s left drawer. “Is this YOURS, eh?”

“Um, yeah, well,..”

“C’mon, Nancy, hey, wait a sec, what’s Nancy’s friend’s name, eh?”

“Which one, eh?”

She was leafing through the book, “Her friend, her sidekick, y’know, eh?”

“Who, eh? Bess, eh? Or her boyfriend, eh?”

“Who’s the boyfriend, eh?”

“Ah, Ned, eh?”

“NED, eh? That’s it, eh? I was so hot for Ned when I was twelve, he’s the original Ken doll, eh? Hey, I’m Nancy Drew and you’re Bess, eh?”

“No way, it’s my book and I’m Nancy, eh?”

“Nope, I get to screw Ned so I’m Nancy, eh? You’re her best friend and fan, that’s why you have the book, to read about my astounding adventures, eh?”

“Nuh-uh, and there’s still a gaslight up there, eh?”

“Look, you’re crazy, eh? They wouldn’t have gas on up there, it’s dangerous, eh? Are you kidding, it’s not well lit, but it’s all electric, I know because Mrs. Aldon had trouble finding the switch when she showed me up there on my first morning, and finally turned it on, eh? There’s no gas, eh?”

“I saw it, eh?”

“There isn’t, eh? The Mystery of the Gaslight, eh? Starring me as Nancy and you as her dumb assistant, eh?”

“Screw you, eh?”

“That’s Ned’s job, and MAN is he good at it, eh? Alright, you're her befuddled but well-meaning assistant Bess the Wonderdog, eh? Bet you there isn’t one up there, eh?”

“Bet you there is. What you want to bet, eh?”

“Loser has to sleep in the cellar all night. Just kidding! Loser has to.... I don’t kno, eh?”

“Loser has to go to the 8th floor and see if it says “Gallows - Last Exit” over the back door, eh? Or. Loser has to go to the 8th floor and stay in one of the cells, eh?”

“I’ve done that, eh? Pass, eh?”

“You have, eh? You’re kidding, eh?”

“Yeah, during the day it’s no big deal, eh? I was going to do it when we were up there, but you chickened out, eh?”

“Loser has to...”

“Loser has to go right to the back of the 8th floor, yelling ‘Ghosts come out, come and see me, we’re not afraid of no,... um, he-bee-jeebees, eh?”
“He-bee-jee-bees, eh?”

She smiled, “It rhymes great, eh? Bet, eh?”

“Okay, bet, eh? And Nancy, what’s Ned really like?, eh?You know what I mean, eh?”

“He’s GREAT in the sack, but I gotta train him to take his socks off, Bess, eh?” She looked at me with an evil grin. “He wants to fuck you too, he told me, eh? I told him you were well-meaning but befuddled in bed, eh? C’mon, lets go, eh?” She stood up.

“Wait, eh?” It was twenty to eleven. “Lets go up at eleven, then we can lock the front door, eh? If we’re both going up, eh?”

“We’re both going up, eh? Scared, eh?”

“Nope, eh? We know where all the bodies are now., eh?And it’s not on the 8th floor, eh?”

Angie's Ghost Story Part 10

There’s always a rush of people coming back right before eleven, so we stayed and said hi to everybody, then waited for stragglers, then shut off the lights and returned the book and cleaned up the desk, locked the front door, hid our stuff under the desk, and finally stated climbing up the stairs.

At the third floor we met a guy coming down the other way who said that none of the water was working on his floor. We got sidetracked testing the water, first it wasn’t working, then the pipes would make banging noises, then it worked, then it didn’t again. The showers wouldn’t work at all. We finally told him to just go and try the other floors until he found a bathroom that actually worked.

“If that’s a ghost doing it, they sure are annoying.” Cindy said to me.

Then we climbed up the stairs again, and it was really tiring at the end of the night. We stopped on every floor now, caught our breath, then kept going up. Finally we got up to the eighth and I noticed something right away.

The door was cleaner. It wasn’t all blackened and as old looking. I could swear that it used to be dark wood, but now it was painted glossy white. You could still see the big old hinges, but everything was painted shiny.

“When did they paint this?”

“What?” Cindy gasped, out of breath.

“The door, did they paint it white this week?”

“I don’t know. C’mon, lets do it quick. It’s getting late.”

Then I got a creepy feeling. “What time is it?”

She looked at her watch. “Five to twelve. I have to make the bus before twelve thirty, so lets go,” and she opened the door. We both looked up.

There was no gaslight.

There wasn’t even a fixture there, just a little spot on the wall that looked like a nail hole or a gas pipe a long time ago. Nothing.

“See?” she said, “*Bess, *you lose.”

Cute GROG :wink:

let's get on with the story, eh?

[ Edited by: Kiki von Tiki 2009-10-19 16:48 ]

Angie's Ghost Story Part 11

I kept staring up there, because the whole wall was different. It wasn’t dirty. It had been painted white in a big line above my head, and that wasn’t there the first time either. Cindy stepped in, and I noticed that the floor wasn’t dirty, it didn’t have big greasy pools anywhere, it had been cleaned up and varnished. Then Cindy flicked a light switch and the lights came on. The whole place looked clean and sort of modern.

“But it was right up there!” I blurted out, “See? Right where that mark is!”

“I told you there was no gaslights, you probably saw that light and thought it was a flame or something.” Cindy looked and pointed at the electric light that was in the corner, it was one of those lights with a steel cage around it like they have on submarines.

“That wasn’t what I saw! I was staring right at it, it wasn’t like that, somebody must have taken it down!”

I was really mad for a second - I thought Cindy had arranged all this because they had been renovating and I didn’t know about it. But the floor wasn’t too shiny when I looked again, it hadn’t been varnished in the last week, it was scuffed up.

I just stood there, shaking my head. “But. But this is impossible.”

Cindy walked around the corner. “Hurry it up,” she said, “you loser, go say it and let’s get out of here.” I followed her, there was the long line of cells but again everything looked clean and perfect. I felt better now anyway, it didn’t feel so grimy at all, so I walked down towards the end while Cindy leaned against the wall, waiting.

About halfway down there was a sound.

I could hear where it was coming from, a jail cell just ahead of me. Something moved to the right, darted into the cell. Maybe a rat, but not a rat because the floor had creaked a bit with weight, something heavy moving. I slowed down, then decided that it couldn’t be something scary, it didn’t sound like a person, so I walked past the cell, not wanting to look inside, and saw something moving in there again out of the corner of my eye, it seemed to pull around the cell across the floor. It was gone before I could see it clearly. Then I forced myself to look hard, stopping and standing there right in front of the cell - and it was totally empty. There was a single steel bed frame that hardly even fit, and white painted walls. I looked under the bed.

Nope. That was it. Empty. Not even a mouse. Nothing could have moved in there.

Part 10 and 11 were both short compared to the other parts---seemed liked they could've been combined into one part. :P

That's exactly what I was thinkin'

"Part 10 and 11 were both short compared to the other parts---seemed liked they could've been combined into one part."

Old 17th century French theater saying:
"The people with the free seats are the first to complain."

Since you guys are such nit-pickers I'll be posting the next installment on THURSDAY!

It was GROG!!!

Noooooooooo!!!!! I'm jonesin for the next installment. Okay, I'll be patient. :) I love Cammo's Halloween stories!

On 2009-10-20 14:24, Cammo wrote:
"Part 10 and 11 were both short compared to the other parts---seemed liked they could've been combined into one part."

Old 17th century French theater saying:
"The people with the free seats are the first to complain."

Since you guys are such nit-pickers I'll be posting the next installment on THURSDAY!

I am very disappointed with you both! Now see what you've done? No more story till THURSDAY!?!?!?!?

UGH. Impossible.

:(

It's Thursday! Mike and GROG, you are off restriction now! Kiki still loves you both. Now be good boys and Uncle Cammo will tell us a story. :D

:)

** Angie's Ghost Story Part 12**

So I kept walking down the hall, and at the end stood there looking at a giant wall with big loading doors in it. It looked like a really old garage. Some of the doors were small, over to the left, and there was a big barn beam running across the whole back of the room. The doors looked really old and worn down. I couldn’t figure out where they hung people, but it sure was built for business.

“SAY IT!” Cindy yelled. Jeez, she made me jump! She sounded far away. I turned back around and there she was, way back at the other end waiting for me.

Then the clock on City Hall struck twelve, I could hear it through the windows.

“Ghosts... uh... I forget it!” I yelled back, more annoyed and tired than scared. It was midnight and I was still about half an hour from home. Hope Mom wasn’t waiting up tonight.

“Ghosts come out, come and see...” she yelled back.

The bell was still tolling.

“Oh yeah, GHOSTS come out, come and SEE ME, I’m not afraid of no... um, HEE-BEE-GEE-BEES!” I yelled out the last part really loud.

Then the clock paused, like it always does right before it hits the hour. And then it rang.

And all the lights went out.

It was pitch black. I couldn’t see anything. “ANGIE!” Cindy yelled.

“YEAH?” I yelled back at her.

“Come back, lets get outta here!” she sounded worried.

My eyes were getting used to the darkness, light was coming in dimly from the windows on the outside wall, so I groped my way back slowly, my hands out - and I touched some cold bars and wire. That was funny. So I thought I must be touching a cell door, and moved to my right, away from the cells, and the bars were still in front of me. My eyes were getting used to the dark, and the room had an orange glow, and I looked way up and there were three kerosene lanterns, like the ones they used on trains, those round globe ones, way up there hanging on the wall. So I moved down, then backed away, and saw that the whole corridor was covered with a wall of bars. That was impossible, cause I had just come from that way.

I was staring at Cindy through bars now. There was something that scared me about that, it didn’t make any sense at all.

“Cindy,” I said in a shaky voice, “come and get me out.”

Thank you Sir, may I please have another?

Yay!!!! :)

OK, this is a big one, so take this one slow and savor it - first down a few oz's of aged port, put some Berlioz on the stereo, sit back and enjoy....

** Angie's Ghost Story Part 13 **

“How’d you get in there? Is it a cell? Where’s a, hey, there’s the door, just push it open. “ She was walking to me, slowly. Then she hurried up.

I tried reaching through the bars to the door’s handle outside, but there was wire mesh that I couldn’t get past. Cindy would have to open it from outside. She finally ran up, and tried the handle.

“It won’t move!” she yelled at me.

“Calm down. It’s got to. I just got in here.”

“How’d you get in?”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t...” I looked at her and didn’t want to say that the bars weren’t there at first, they seemed to come out of nowhere, with the darkness.

But then I saw something move, past Cindy, behind her, by the jail cells.

It was a hand.

In a little pool of light from the window, it was right there and I could swear I saw a white hand holding the edge of the jail door.

Then the cell door opened, really slowly. If I wasn’t watching it, I wouldn’t have seen it open, it was moving so slowly.

Then another hand appeared, beside the first one, clutching the edge of the wall. And then the very top of a head appeared, but it wasn’t where I expected it, above the hands, so I didn’t se it at first, it was below the hands, down by the floor. And it didn’t have any hair, it was all white, and it slid out really slowly too, and when it came into view I wanted to scream, because it was like a skull but with no eyes or nose, and where the mouth should have been was a big red cut of rotten flesh, like its mouth had been ripped away and you could see red mush inside.

Cindy was pulling and trying to move the door, she kept asking me to push, but I stopped and wanted to scream and backed up. The thing behind her was pulling itself, inch by inch, out of the cell. It stopped and looked right at me, then at Cindy, and then even though it didn’t have a face I knew it wanted us because - it was starving. Then it’s hands searched around, making crazy motions, and pushed again, worming itself back and forth towards us and out of the pool of light.

I was back against the far wall now, trying not to scream because if I did Cindy would look around and stop trying to get me out.

“Push on it! Hurry! What’s wrong with you?” Cindy yelled.

“It’s... I can’t... don’t look around. Don’t look behind you!” I said to her. But of course she looked and the thing was hidden in the shadows now, but still coming, and it was all black other than the face so she didn’t see anything and she turned back around and tried to kick the door to make it move, and then the thing came into the light behind her.

It was standing now on thin legs, but it couldn’t move fast, it looked like it was going to fall down but the look of pain and hate and evil on it’s pure white face was horrible, I couldn’t look at it and tried to concentrate on getting away.

Then it came to me in a flash - it wasn’t after me. It was after Cindy. Because she was more full of life than I was. I was the sensitive, so it had used me, right from the beginning to lock her in with it.

And then I realized that it was on the other side of the jailer’s door, in the cell area with Cindy, and I was where the jailers would stand. So the door must open on MY side, not hers, so I jumped to the door, yanked at the knob, but it wouldn’t open, and then saw that the whole thing was locked down with a big swinging latch that clamped down on the edge of the door, so I pushed up on it and it didn’t move either, and I pushed it again and it budged a little bit, then I pulled up on it and that did it, it swung up and the door creaked open and I grabbed Cindy just as the thing was behind her and pulled her through and slammed the door shut - wham - went the bar down again.

“WHAT T’ FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” She yelled at me, then she spun around and was looking right at the thing, it was inches in front of her on the other side, holding onto the bars, heaving up and down, breathing hard, it’s hands trying to squirm through, and -

we both finally started screaming right there. I thought Cindy was going to have a heart attack, or pass out or something, but she can scream real good, and we both backed up as the thing tried to get through the doors, it was feeling all over the bars and the door quickly, and then it just started shaking the wall of bars. It shook them and shook them. We screamed all we could, backed up against the wall, and that seemed to make it madder and stronger. You could hear the bars actually shaking in the brick walls, the cement they were planted in loosening, the whole wall bending and pulling as the thing got madder and then it jumped up onto the bars and shook them with its whole body, twisting around and pulling itself higher, shaking the whole wall, it was so strong now it sounded like it was hitting the bars with a hammer as it rattled the irons and we kept screaming, we were hanging on to each other and it pulled itself up, its feet hooked in the bars, and it crept up the bars in a weird way, its feet sometimes higher than the rest of its body, spread out, not climbing like a human would, and it stared down at us on the floor. I looked up at the top of the wall, and the bars didn’t quite go all the way up. There were a few inches right at the top and that made me even more scared and I stopped screaming and pulled on Cindy.

We had to get out of there.

I pulled her to the door behind us and swung it open, there was a set of narrow wooden stairs going down and the last thing I saw before we ran down the stairs was the thing at the top of the bars, it’s arm was through the little gap at the top and it was pushing its head through, it was still coming at us, it’s head was through now and it looked at us when it started pulling the rest of itself through.

We ran down those stairs, they turned a couple of times to the left, and were only big enough for one person, but we broke the Olympic Record in Stair Descent that first minute. It was pitch black in there, so we finally had to slow down to feel our way, and then we stopped...

...because a wind suddenly was blowing down on us like somebody had opened a door and we were caught in the draft. Things were blown down in the wind, like dirt and pieces of paper, and this stuff kept sweeping down at us from above the last corner of the stairs. I tried stopping, but the wind was so strong it leaned me forward and we both edged to the side out of the way. Then the wind stopped and there was a light under us flickering and when we turned the corner, there it was,

the thing with the white face right below us on the stairs.

We stopped, and were almost too tired to run back up again, but it wasn’t moving. It wasn’t coming at us. I looked at Cindy, she was crouched down on the stairs, clutching at her chest, she had her eyes closed tight and she was whispering over and over “Jesus Christ help us Mother Mary bless us in our time of need glorious St. Michael Prince of Heavenly Hosts who did fight the dragon have mercy on our souls and shut the gates of hell forever from us Jesus Christ King of Heaven and Mother Mary...” That sounded like a Catholic chant, and I looked back at the thing and

it was trying to talk to me.

It’s bony, long thin white hands were out towards us, it was gesturing and trying to speak. I heard muttering, ugly sounds coming from it’s mouth but couldn’t understand what it was saying, then it reached to the wall beside it and touched its finger to the wall and drew little slow lines on the wall. You could HEAR the scratching really loud, it was slow and sounded like nails on steel. Then it looked back at us and seemed to be getting ready to get up. For some reason, that almost made me sick.

Cindy was Catholic. She was Catholic. I thought of something, whipped back to her and felt where her hand was on her chest, then reached inside her shirt and grabbed the necklace she was wearing. I tried pulling it off her, up over her head, but she was fighting me now, punching me but I grabbed it and snapped it off her neck, and threw her little gold crucifix right at the thing on the stairs.

He squealed and flattened against the wall, and then the black of his body melted into the shadows, he vanished into the cracks and the flickering light was gone, and I grabbed Cindy and dragged her down to the next landing, we burst out onto a carpeted floor, it was lit really bright and we ran down the whole hall, ran down the stairway three more flights, ran out the bottom door and I was already pulling my front door key out, I unlocked the front and we ran out that door too, and ran all the way down the street together, way down almost two blocks until we couldn’t run anymore and finally we stopped.

“I win,” I panted, “those were gaslights on the wall.”

EEEEEeeeeeeeeeEEEEeeeeeek!
I just may take to wearing a crucifix instead of a tiki around my neck.

That's CREEPY!!! :o

Cammo, here's a little factoid for you; Berloiz published his memoirs in 1865 but instucted that they be stored and sold after his death. I'm not suggesting anything, just saying...

"I say hourly to Death: ‘When you will’. Why does he delay?"
Hector Berloiz - 1864

The End.

That was a good story Camm, now tell us the story about how you lost your virginity with the one-eyed, peg-legged hooker, a midget and a donkey.

** Angie's Ghost Story Part 14**

Cindy was still catching her breath.

“F...” pant, pant, “Fu...” pant,
she took a deep breath, pant,
“FUCK the gaslights, fuck that place and fuck that thing that was chasing us,” she gasped out, “and Mrs. Fucking Aldon can screw herself with a fully functioning fucking firehose if she thinks I’m ever going in there again.” She looked at me, shaking her head.

“I told ya.” I explained, “you didn’t believe me but the whole place is haunted, right?”

“It’s not HAUNTED,” Cindy tried to yell, “It’s the third ring of," pant, "fucking HELL is what it is! That wasn’t a ghost, that was a ... a .... soul-sucking DEMON! Jesus Fucking Christ!”

Then she stopped, her whole body relaxed, and she cried and cried.

I drove her home. The whole way we swore we’d never go back to the hostel.

THE END

Angie's Ghost Story Part 15

The next morning Cindy me called at about ten. “I’m going in today,” she told me, “you’re going in too, right?”

“Uh, nope. I thought we decided not to, I was about to call in and tell them what happened and I told my mom a bit about it...”

“You did?”

“Well, yeah, this morning, not too much, just that it was haunted and I didn’t feel right working there and everything.”

“Well, so did I, I told my mom too, not everything or she’d have a fit.”

“Yeah, exactly... I mean, no way would she let us....”

“But my mom and I came up with a plan just now. It’s gonna work. It’s the Cindy Plan.”

I asked her what was up, but she said we’d meet there in an hour, so I got dressed and went to work. Most people gripe about going to work, but driving in to the Ottawa Youth Hostel that morning was something I really didn’t want to do at ALL. I really didn’t want to go to work, you have no IDEA how much I didn’t want to go to work. It was either give the Cindy Plan a chance, or go in and tell Mrs. Aldon that after today she’d have to find another two chumps to work there. This was it, probably my last morning at Hotel Hell.

I got there first, Cindy lived farther away, so I spent the time looking around for Mrs. Aldon but then remembered she doesn’t come in on weekends, and it was Saturday morning. I didn’t even realize it was a weekend.

Then Cindy came in. She was carrying a huge armload of big wooden crosses.

“HI!” she yelled at me, then dumped all the crosses on the front desk. I walked up and she reached her arms out and hung a gold cross on a chain around my neck.

“This one’s been blessed!” she said happily, “So has this one!” and she pulled out an even bigger one she was wearing under her dress. “It’s my mom’s and aunt’s!” Then she rolled up her sleeves and she had on these giant gold charm bracelets that went a few inches up both her arms, that were covered in little gold cross charms. Must have weighed a few pounds.

“And look,” she said pointing to the crosses on the desk, “These are all throwers!” She looked at me happily, like she had just solved everything.

“Um,... yeah, I guess that’s good, yeah.” I stammered out.

Cindy looked at me, puzzled. “Hey, what religion are you?” she asked suddenly.

“Um, Presbyterian.”

“OH JEEEEZ! I should have known,” she said, looking at me in a different way now, but more satisfied. “You look Presbyterian. The more I look at you the more Presbyterian you look. Oh well, ‘Any Port in a Storm’ like they say. Wait a minute,” and she left, running out the front door, almost bumping into Bridgett coming in the other way.

“Hey! Slow down! Don’t hurt yourself!” Bridgett yelled after her. Then she paused when she saw all the crosses on the desk. She looked at me, then back at the crosses. Mine was still dangling out around my neck.

“I never thought of that.” Bridgett said.

‘What?” I asked her, slowly. We had never really talked to Bridgett about what was going on, I wondered why now. She had probably worked here longer than almost anybody else.

“A cross.” she said, simply. Then Cindy dashed back in, carrying a hammer. She rummaged through the crosses, and picked up one that was trimmed in gold paint.

“This one was blessed, sprinkled with holy water, AND made from Jerusulam Oak. My Aunt runs the church store, we went there first today.” she said, pleased with herself. Then she grabbed a chair, brought it over to the front door, climbed on top and started nailing the cross over the door, right next to the exit sign.

Bridgett and I watched, surprised but not wanting to stop her. Then Cindy came down and went through the crosses again. She chose another one, and started to turn away, but Bridgett stopped her and asked what on Earth she was doing.

“We’re gonna get that vampire. That’s what.” she said, defiantly. “It’s the Cindy Plan. It’s gonna work.”

Bridgett looked really interested now, “WHAT vampire?” she asked us.

“The one with the guest suite up on the 8th! Our rotten friend up there with no eyeballs!” she shuddered a bit at that, looking at me, I could feel goosebumps too, but she kept going, “We’re going to nail up enough crosses around here to either scare him away or make him a Bishop!” she looked almost mad, daring Bridgett to say we couldn’t, “That’s what we’re going to do.”

Bridgett looked at both of us, then asked, really slowly, “How... did you know about the vampire? Did, ah, Mrs. Aldon tell you about it?”

That was a weird ending.

Cindy's certifiable, I wouldn't go back into that place for all the curry in India. My suggestion would be to use those wooden crosses as kindling and burn the whole place down!

Cindy isn't crazy, she's just DUMB!

(And she has the standard attitude of anybody under 20 that they're invulnerable.)

Angie's Ghost Story Part 16

And that creeped me out.

That was the first time at the hostel that I got scared and stayed scared, because if Bridgett knew about the vampire thing then it wasn’t a joke or our imagination. Because that meant there really was a vampire, we had seen something, other people had seen it, people knew about it, and I looked at Cindy, who was staring at me now - “Did you tell her what happened last night?” she asked.

“No!”

“What happened last night?” Bridgett finally asked us.

So we spent the next half hour going over what we remembered, it was hard to talk about and it turned out Cindy hadn’t seen the exact same stuff I had, the way she described the thing’s hands were different, and she had seen other scary things in the stairwell, red eyes glowing in the cracks of the bricks and stuff I had missed, but it was pretty much the same story otherwise, and when we were done Bridgett who asked us to call her ‘Bree’ cause that’s what everybody called her, told us the whole story.

The hostel was haunted top to bottom, Bree said. Not just the 8th floor, the whole place. The cellar was bad, they still couldn’t get electricity working down there, no matter who they hired it didn’t work. Even experienced old guy electricians wouldn’t go down there during the day, their tools would disappear, wires would get disconnected, they always had a feeling of something being right behind them, looking at what they were doing. Bree said there might be hundreds of skeletons buried down there, the floor was dirt and had never been touched since the jail days.

The 8th floor was the worst. People had waited there on death row, she said only three people had been executed over the years but hundreds, they don’t know how many, had been hung by the jailers at the back of the room. They were hung for any excuse, it was usually done in the middle of the night and the bodies were dropped through the trap door. Once the jail had been closed, they had tried turning the 8th floor into a hostel area but nobody could sleep there. They’d see things moving in the halls at night, people sitting in the cells looking back at them, asking them questions. Horrible people with no teeth, blind eyes and torn blankets for clothes. Sleepers would wake up with someone bent over their bed, staring at them, angry at them for coming into their cells. They’d even had a bet for a couple of years that anybody who could sleep the night on the 8th floor wouldn’t have to pay.

Not a single person has EVER made it through the night up there.

The rest of the hostel was no better. Things would get lost or broken all the time, objects would fly out the windows smashing the glass, lights would stop working, then start again, then burst, the water was always a problem, it was a nightmare. Things would be fixed, then stop working minutes later. The elevator was bad, it still didn’t work and would always go up to the 8th floor. It didn’t matter what button you’d push, it always went there. The doors would open and not close again, leaving you up there. One girl got stuck on the 8th floor, tried the stairway to come back down and saw a man coming up the stairs, slowly, looking at her, with a red mouth and no eyes. She almost committed suicide trying to escape it by jumping over the stair rails, but she finally ran out onto a different floor and left that night.

That was the problem, Bree told us, there was always the chance of somebody getting hurt or dying and authorities asking questions about why the hostel made people suicidal.

They didn’t want to get shut down, but they didn’t want anybody hurt. Nobody knew what to do.

“I thought Mrs. Aldon had told you all of this,” she said, “I’d asked her to that one day. When you went in her office.”

She told us crap, Bree,” Cindy said, disgusted. “She didn’t even say there was a vampire.”

“The strange thing is, the vampire almost seems to have come before the prisoners did. Or it goes right back to the early days of the jail, I don’t know.” she explained. “There were rumors of an evil ghost among the prisoners. They said it would push the soul from your body.”

“It would WHAT?”

“Push the soul from your body. The last head of the jail guards told me about it the year after it had closed and was being made into a hostel. The first year we were here. And he heard it from the last head of the guards, so it goes way back to the early part of the century, even the late 1800’s. Here’s the thing, though - vampires just weren’t known back then.”

“You mean there were no vampires?”

“I mean it wasn’t until 1931 that the movie Dracula came out, with Bela Lugosi. That’s what made them famous. The book Dracula was from 1897, but it wasn’t popular until the 1920’s. How would poor prisoners in Ottawa even know about vampires before that? In 1890?”

“Unless...” I tried to think.

“Unless it was pushing souls out of bodies back then. Just like last night.”

I started to understand. “Unless it’s a real vampire, more than a hundred years old...”

“But that’s what the Cindy Plan is ALL ABOUT!” she yelled, standing up and smiling, “We’re gonna Vampire-Proof this whole PLACE!” And she walked over to the crosses, staring at them happily.

Bree paused, then said to us quietly, “I guess you don’t know about the inscription.”

The End?

You might want to consider rewording this part:

On 2009-10-26 18:25, Cammo wrote:

... a man coming up the stairs, slowly, looking at her, with a red mouth and no eyes.

Irregardless, looking forward to more!

(~~)

More nit-pickers! See ya THURSDAY!

Not Again!!! :(

At least this time it's not GROG's fault!

Seriously Cammo? So much for constructive criticism...
:roll:

"a man coming up the stairs, slowly, looking at her, with a red mouth and no eyes."

The idea that the vampire can face exactly towards her and follow her movements without any apparent eyes is exactly what's scary about it.

So much for constructive criticism - precisely!

THURSDAY.

NO STORY FOR YOU!!! COME BACK THURSDAY!!! NEXT?

Gee, fellas, I hope we get to the end of the story for Halloween. With all these interruptions, who knows?
Cammo, please reconsider? What about the inscription?
:)

It said,"Take two tablets at bedtime, preferably with a meal. Do not operate heavy machinery."

I agree. Please reconsider. So many of us are really enjoying the story.

On 2009-10-27 15:30, Kiki von Tiki wrote:
Gee, fellas, I hope we get to the end of the story for Halloween. With all these interruptions, who knows?
Cammo, please reconsider? What about the inscription?
:)

Someone PM GROG when all parts are posted. GROG out.

TONIGHT! :rubs hands together:

Angie's Ghost Story Part 17

“Uh, no.” I answered.

“There was an inscription we found ...” she stopped and thought, “Where did you meet the thing on the stairs? Was it about the 6th floor? Inside the stairwell?”

As a matter of fact... “Yeah, I think so,” I told her. Cindy was stuffing crosses into her big dress pockets. Bree got up and went back to her kitchen. I heard her opening shelves, rummaging around, then she came back with a little piece of paper.

“It was drawing something on the wall when you saw it on the stairs, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, with its finger, like it was tracing a drawing it saw there.” The memory of it was giving me the creeps again, I saw it’s finger reached out, scratching the wall, intent, ignoring us at first, hunched over...

She stood up. “Let’s go. Bring the crosses.”

Cindy helped me stuff as many as I could fit in my pockets. Then we went up to the 6th floor landing.

On the way, huffing up the stairs, Bree told us that on the little set of stairs where we had seen the thing, there had been an inscription on the wall. Painters had found it when they were fixing up the place. It was really old, barely visible, and it was weird, the words had seemed kind of crazy, but they had mentioned a vampire so the painters had written it down before they had painted it over. We came out onto the 6th floor, marched down the hall and Bree pulled the paper out.

She opened the door to the stairs.

“Yeah, that’s where we were.” I said, not wanting to go in.

”Right there?” Bree asked, pointing up a few steps to the right.

“Yeah.” I looked around and there it was, the little cross on the chain that I had thrown. Cindy saw it too, looked around cautiously, and threw one of her wooden crosses in. She didn’t say anything, she just threw a cross in, and snatched the gold one up.

"That's where the writing was found eight years ago." Bree went right to the step, sat down and read the slip of paper. This is exactly what she read to us:

"I am a non-veridical Vampire who will vanquish you all. One by one I will ornate your odorous flesh with famished fangs. But Who? Are there 94 or 95 steps to the 9th floor? A book on the top shelf will lead you on the right path." Also, below the words, in a circle - "S3a".

“The NINTH floor?” Cindy said.

This was all way too strange for us.

Bree turned to the wall, and taped the paper up so it could be read by everybody.

“It’s a warning, see? I think it should go back up.”

“Can we get out of here now?” I asked, backing up.

“Sure,” she said, standing up, “did you know Jack the Ripper used to send the same sort of warnings? It was like he wanted to get caught. So did the Zodiac Killer in San Francisco, he even used to send hints in coded numbers and letters, just like... our friend.”

We all started walking back down.

“Is there a ninth floor?”

“And so did Son of Sam.” Bree said.

“What’s the ninth floor?”

“Oh. It’s, sort of, an attic. I think nuns used to live up there, it was their dormitory. Whatever you do, don’t go up there.”

Something about the words ‘nuns’ made Cindy freeze for a moment.

“Promise me you won’t try to go up to the ninth floor.” Bree said, seriously.

That woke Cindy up.

“This place has Vampire Nuns in the attic? I, WE promise not to go visit the vampire nuns. We swear to God Almighty we won’t visit any devil nuns anytime, anywhere, for ANY reason, right Angie?”

“Cross my heart and hope to...” then I grinned, “I promise.”

“You know, I’ve got a friend who’s working at the information booth this summer, the one beside the canal, y’know?” Cindy told us, “All she has to do is point to the brochures the tourists can take. That’s it. She doesn’t even give them the brochures, she just points. But she thinks it’s the worst job, she hates it, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause she has to wear a hat. It says ‘Ministry of Tourism’ on it. And she makes two bucks more an hour than we do,”

then Cindy paused and shook her head,

“...vampire nuns in the attic. I quit.”

Then we spent the next few hours hammering all the crosses over every door and haunted part of the hostel we could reach. It ended up looking like Crucifixland when we were done, and then Cindy called her mom and her aunt and her priest at the local church, telling them it was OK to come and bless the whole place the next day, Sunday. The priest apparently promised to bring gallons of holy water with him. We were going to wash the entire 8th floor in holy water, I’m not kidding. Bree called Mrs. Aldon about it and she agreed too, and said she’d call her boss to approve the funds because the priest wanted to be paid for a hard day of vampire-destroying work. He probably thought we were all crazy.

An hour later, Mrs. Aldon called us back.

“Tell the priest to not come on Sunday.” she said. Bree couldn’t believe it, but it turned out that Ken Tilden, the appropriations head of the hostel, wanted to see the whole place first. He wouldn’t let us make a move until he had looked around. Right now.

“He wants to see the ghosts?” I asked.