(Thanks again to Scotto for his brilliant photoshopping skills... I'm not dead in case you were wondering.)
With 32 degree temperatures in the shade, it’s officially too hot to go out walking so the ignored treadmill (buried under clean towels I’ve hidden from the kids in the locked spare room) was where I headed this morning with the objective of burning off some lumpy and unappealing visceral fat.
The house was empty and quiet. You could have heard a mouse fart. Uninhabited houses make Pinky jittery...
Pablo and Celine were allowed to accompany me and sit spectator-like on the bed while I pounded the rubber for an hour or so. The air-conditioner purred quietly in the background as I attempted to read my kindle with my glasses wobbling all over the place.
I could hear the dogs scratching at the door… no… the dogs were on the bed.
It was then that the moaning started… a low lamenting moan. Was that coming from the cupboard too?
What the hell was it? I stopped the machine again.
The house was empty and quiet. You could have heard a mouse fart. Uninhabited houses make Pinky jittery...
Pablo and Celine were allowed to accompany me and sit spectator-like on the bed while I pounded the rubber for an hour or so. The air-conditioner purred quietly in the background as I attempted to read my kindle with my glasses wobbling all over the place.
I could hear the dogs scratching at the door… no… the dogs were on the bed.
Pausing the treadmill, I opened the door to see what it was. There was nothing there...that's weird, I thought.
The plaintive scratching began again as soon as I recommenced my walking, but this time it seemed to be emanating from the cupboard…the slightly ajar, just a wee bit spooky cupboard.
It was then that the moaning started… a low lamenting moan. Was that coming from the cupboard too?
What the hell was it? I stopped the machine again.
Aaah! The moaning was just Pablo the Chihuahua, probably confused as to what I was doing. I never located the source of the scratching though… and I didn’t dare look in the cupboard.
It’s not like I believe in ghosts or anything like that. It’s just that I'm good at spooking myself... especially when I'm alone.
Many years ago when Pinky was still a young, carefree singleton I rented a very old house, an over one hundred years old house, in actual fact. It had been transported from Charters Towers when the Gold Rush was over and the once flourishing city (which was at one stage was the second largest city in Queensland) had been rapidly reduced to a mere ghost town.
I’ll bet that house had some stories to tell.
“The house is haunted,” offered the previous tenant Janelle, a girl I worked with at the time. “But it’s a friendly ghost.”
I lived alone in the house for three months and didn’t ever notice anything even remotely ethereal or creepy... until one day something happened that incited every hair on my body to stand on end.
My little dog Basil was with me in the kitchen and as I went to walk into the bedroom with Basil at my feet he suddenly stopped rigid and still. The line of fur on his back was stiff and raised, he stared into the room riveted and began to growl uncharacteristically.
It’s not like I believe in ghosts or anything like that. It’s just that I'm good at spooking myself... especially when I'm alone.
Many years ago when Pinky was still a young, carefree singleton I rented a very old house, an over one hundred years old house, in actual fact. It had been transported from Charters Towers when the Gold Rush was over and the once flourishing city (which was at one stage was the second largest city in Queensland) had been rapidly reduced to a mere ghost town.
I’ll bet that house had some stories to tell.
“The house is haunted,” offered the previous tenant Janelle, a girl I worked with at the time. “But it’s a friendly ghost.”
I lived alone in the house for three months and didn’t ever notice anything even remotely ethereal or creepy... until one day something happened that incited every hair on my body to stand on end.
My little dog Basil was with me in the kitchen and as I went to walk into the bedroom with Basil at my feet he suddenly stopped rigid and still. The line of fur on his back was stiff and raised, he stared into the room riveted and began to growl uncharacteristically.
It was a terrible snarl, and as I tried to peer into the room he moved between me and the entrance growling at me as if to prevent my access. The little terrier turned again, savagely engrossed, trembling and moaning just staring in horrified fascination at something in the room.
After a few minutes he stopped, just like that. I went into the room, sh#tting myself quietly with Basil happily trotting in my wake… and of course there was nothing there. Spoooky…
This afternoon Hagar came home from his first day at a new job working as an electrical apprentice at the hospital.
“How was your day, Hagar?” I enquired.
“Alright… worked in the morgue all day,” he replied, shaking plumes of white dust from his tradie clothes all over my wooden floor.
“What’s that?” I asked tetchily, pointing to the dust.
“Dead people’s ashes,” he quipped, raising one eyebrow in a sinister manner.
Little sh#t. I hope he gets a night shift.
Do you have a ghost story??? Come on… hit that comments box below!
After a few minutes he stopped, just like that. I went into the room, sh#tting myself quietly with Basil happily trotting in my wake… and of course there was nothing there. Spoooky…
This afternoon Hagar came home from his first day at a new job working as an electrical apprentice at the hospital.
“How was your day, Hagar?” I enquired.
“Alright… worked in the morgue all day,” he replied, shaking plumes of white dust from his tradie clothes all over my wooden floor.
“What’s that?” I asked tetchily, pointing to the dust.
“Dead people’s ashes,” he quipped, raising one eyebrow in a sinister manner.
Little sh#t. I hope he gets a night shift.
Do you have a ghost story??? Come on… hit that comments box below!
My very first dog, Basil.
