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Once upon a time there was a dark, dark lane. If you went down the dark, dark lane you came to an old ruined cottage. It
was old crumbling cottage with no roof.
...oh but that wasn't the worst thing about it.
There were weeds
growing through the floor, and bugs crawling out of the cracks.
...but that wasn't the worst thing about it.
There were green, slimy fungus-y things creeping up the walls.
...and even that wasn't the worst thing about
it.
"Oooooohhhhh" There were horrible howls, and screeches, that made your blood run cold, your hair stand
on end and curl the toes of your wellies!
The cottage was haunted... so nobody ever went down to the end of the lane,
which was a shame, because it led to a wee village with a beautiful beach and a castle. Perfect for a summer holiday, just
perfect...
"Ooooooohhhh, Aaaaaagghhhhh".... except for the ghost.
It kept the tourists away, it
annoyed the folk in the village, it infuriated the Earl who sat up in his castle all on his own, a very nice wee centrally
heated castle - very comfy. But nobody ever came to visit, because they never got past the haunted cottage.
"Ooooooohhhh,
Aaaaaagghhhhh"....
At last, Pete, who ran the local cafe, got fed up.
"Time something was done
about this ghost" he said.
He took some tea and sandwiches, and a warm woolly scarf and set off up the dark,
dark lane, to spend a night in the haunted cottage.
Around about midnight, there was a howling and a wailing, that
would have made your blood run cold, your hair stand on end and, you know, all the rest of it...
"Ooooooohhhh,
Aaaaaagghhhhh"....
The ghost floated in through the wall...
"Och away and chase yourself"
said Pete settling down to his tea.
The ghost was so surprised he flopped down in the corner like a bundle of dirty
washing.
"Like a cheese sandwich?" said Pete.
"Ooooooohhhh, Aaaaaagghhhhh"....
The ghost landed in a clump of nettles.
"Please yourself" said Pete, "miserable old bogle, I was
only trying to cheer things up"
"Ooooh what's to be cheerful about?" wailed the ghost "I've been
stuck here haunting this dump for five hundred years, five hundred years, man and boy, and it's that damp, that damp..."
The ghost sighed, and dissolved into a sticky patch on the floor.
"Aye well," said Pete looking round,
"I've seen better, could you not move out into a nice quiet churchyard or something?"
"With my lumbago,
sitting about on wet grass it would be the death of me".
"Here, I've just had a thought... haunt about
will you, don't go away, I'll be back soon."
That summer there was no ghost in the haunted cottage, there was
no cottage. Pete knocked it down, and built a souvenier shop instead. The village was full of holiday-makers, in and out
of the shops and all over the beach.
The highlight of their visit was always a tour round the castle, right from
the top of the battlements, to the bottom of the deep, dark, dry and centrally heated dungeon... which even had it's own ghost.
It "Oooooohhhed" and "Aaaaaarrrred" and wailed, fit to make your blood run cold, your hair stand
on end and curl up the toes of your wellies! For no extra charge it even clanked a few chains.
And as far as I know,
it's still there, haunting happily ever after!!
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