So last night was pretty windy, which meant that there was all kinds of things going bang and thud in the dark.
At first these sounds didn't worry me too much: it's usual for an old, run down house to make sounds like that. Although it did occur to me that Charlotte and Horry might be adding to the noise as well. But since they're both so incompetent at the whole haunting thing, the presense of the ghosts last night didn't worry me.
That is until I heard Charlotte chuckle.
Suddenly Charlotte became a lot less incompetent and a whole lot more threatening. If she managed to chuckle in such a sinister way, who knows what else she's capable of.
My first instinct when I heard Charlotte's chuckle was to leap out of bed and barricade my door.
The only reason why I didn't was because it was too cold to actually get out of bed. Plus I'm sure that I would've drawn attention to myself with all of the noise I would've made barricading my door. Better to remain still and quiet and hope that Charlotte just passes by without doing anything undue.
And then it occurred to me that barricading my door against a ghost is a pretty futile act. It's not like that's going to stop a ghost from just drifting through my wall or door.
Showing posts with label Charlotte. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charlotte. Show all posts
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Ghosts & the Can Opener
While I was once again struggling to properly open a can with one of the numerous can openers in the house, I couldn't help wondering why the hell none of the numerous bloody things in this house can never open a can properly.
Trying to pry open a can that wasn't opened properly is how I almost sliced the pad of my right index finger off. So naturally, I'm put out more than ever now by the sketchy opening job the can openers always do when a can is trying to be opened.
I've never had this problem with can openers before ... except with blunt ones, but they don't really count as can openers, do they?
And most of the can openers in this house are almost brand spankin' new! So there's no reason why they shouldn't be opening cans cleanly and properly.
The only logical conclusion why the can openers aren't doing their job properly?
Horry and/or Charlotte!
One or both of those ghosts are possessing the can openers when they're being used, and ensuring that the cans aren't opened properly.
And this whole time I thought that they were ineffective as ghosts!
Sure, the whole possessing the can openers things is weird and unheard of as far as hauntings go. Also not all that scary to begin with. But it does get the job done for them; we're hugely put out, and run the risk of seriously injuring ourselves trying to open the cans with our bare hands (and suddenly the whole can opener haunting thing seems a whole lot scarier than it did a few seconds ago). Plus, because of how unusual it is, it's less likely to draw attention to their devious little plot.
Pretty tricky of Horry and/or Charlotte! But I caught on to them in the end. Now I've just got to figure out how to put a stop to these actions. A circle of salt around each can opener should do the trick ... unless there's already a ghost in the can opener! Then I'll just be trapping the damn thing in there.
This is going to require more thouhgt ... and possibly the continuation of watching Supernatural to get some ideas on how to deal with ghosts.
Trying to pry open a can that wasn't opened properly is how I almost sliced the pad of my right index finger off. So naturally, I'm put out more than ever now by the sketchy opening job the can openers always do when a can is trying to be opened.
I've never had this problem with can openers before ... except with blunt ones, but they don't really count as can openers, do they?
And most of the can openers in this house are almost brand spankin' new! So there's no reason why they shouldn't be opening cans cleanly and properly.
The only logical conclusion why the can openers aren't doing their job properly?
Horry and/or Charlotte!
One or both of those ghosts are possessing the can openers when they're being used, and ensuring that the cans aren't opened properly.
And this whole time I thought that they were ineffective as ghosts!
Sure, the whole possessing the can openers things is weird and unheard of as far as hauntings go. Also not all that scary to begin with. But it does get the job done for them; we're hugely put out, and run the risk of seriously injuring ourselves trying to open the cans with our bare hands (and suddenly the whole can opener haunting thing seems a whole lot scarier than it did a few seconds ago). Plus, because of how unusual it is, it's less likely to draw attention to their devious little plot.
Pretty tricky of Horry and/or Charlotte! But I caught on to them in the end. Now I've just got to figure out how to put a stop to these actions. A circle of salt around each can opener should do the trick ... unless there's already a ghost in the can opener! Then I'll just be trapping the damn thing in there.
This is going to require more thouhgt ... and possibly the continuation of watching Supernatural to get some ideas on how to deal with ghosts.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Beanbag Beans
The other day some bloody genious let out all of the beanbag beans from the beanbag, and ever since then it's been a constant battle to rid the house of the bloody things. Vacuming the house daily doesn't seem to make a difference; they reappear almost immediately afterwards.
The house hasn't been vacummed in a couple of days, so it's getting over run by the accursed beenbag beans at the moment. They're even in the shower!
But it's not the overwhelming amount of beanbag beans that has got me all worried and concerned; keeping their numbers down is easy enough, and there's only a finite amount of them in the house. So the battle against them will some day end.
What has me concerned is the fact that I just watched one roll across the lounge room floor of its own accord. All of the doors and windows are shut, and the carpet is covering the massive gap between two of the floor boards, so there's no obvious source of wind to propel this one beanbag bean across the floor.
This suggests to a couple of possibilities;
One, Horry and/ Charlotte have re-emerged with the idea that it's been too long since they've haunted this house ... once again, showing weak haunting abilities.
Or two, that beanbag bean is possessed and is recruiting more beanbag bean mates to build an army of beanbag beans to attack us in retaliation for being vacummed.
Either way, I'm concerned about the possible outcome. Especially since I've now lost sight of the moving beanbag bean.
The house hasn't been vacummed in a couple of days, so it's getting over run by the accursed beenbag beans at the moment. They're even in the shower!
But it's not the overwhelming amount of beanbag beans that has got me all worried and concerned; keeping their numbers down is easy enough, and there's only a finite amount of them in the house. So the battle against them will some day end.
What has me concerned is the fact that I just watched one roll across the lounge room floor of its own accord. All of the doors and windows are shut, and the carpet is covering the massive gap between two of the floor boards, so there's no obvious source of wind to propel this one beanbag bean across the floor.
This suggests to a couple of possibilities;
One, Horry and/ Charlotte have re-emerged with the idea that it's been too long since they've haunted this house ... once again, showing weak haunting abilities.
Or two, that beanbag bean is possessed and is recruiting more beanbag bean mates to build an army of beanbag beans to attack us in retaliation for being vacummed.
Either way, I'm concerned about the possible outcome. Especially since I've now lost sight of the moving beanbag bean.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
The (Not at All Totally Cliched Titled) Life and Times of Charlotte
Born in London during the early 1840's, Charlotte was the fourth of six children. She moved to Ballarat, Victoria, Australia in 1853 with her family.
A fairly well off man, Charlotte's father, James, didn't see the wisdom of panning or mining for gold. Instead, he invested the families life savings into running a pub for the prospectors and soldiers.
At first business for James was booming, and the family was able to afford a small too room house to live in, instead of living in a tent amongst the prospectors. This was an improvement for Charlotte who was a sickly child and had been constantly sick since the family moved to Ballarat. Although Charlotte's health never fully recovered, she was no longer bed ridden and able to join the rest of the family when they went for trips around Ballarat.
After almost a year living in Ballarat, things took a turn for the worse for Charlotte's family; during a brawl at his pub, James was brutally murdered, leaving his wife, Emily, to look after the family alone. She had no way of going back to her family in London.
For a couple of months after James' death, Emily was able to live off the money that James had saved from the pub. But once this money ran out, Emily was forced to find employment. As were the older children. Too sick to get paid work, Charlotte was left to look after the younger children while everyone else went out to work.
In this vein the family was able to eke out a mean existance for a few months until Emily was arrested for prostitution. Now completely alone, the rest of the children were also forced to find paid employment.
Because of her poor health, Charlotte was unable to find paid employment, and in an effort to do her share of work resorted to begging on the streets. Many of the soldiers took great pleasure in making her sing before throwing a shilling on the ground for her to chase after.
It was during one of these ordeals that a rich local merchant heard her singing and realized that she had a lovely voice. He immediately took her under his wing and set her up to become a star.
For a short time, Charlotte enjoyed an easy life, her benefactor seeing to her every need, making sure that she never wanted for anything. However, there was a dark motive behind his generosity; he wanted Charlotte for himself. One night he made an advance towards her, which she refused. Angry that she would dare to be so ungrateful after all of his generosity, he raped and murdered Charlotte. He buried her body in an unmarked grave on his estate just outside of Ballarat.
But that wasn't the end of Charlotte. She wanted justice for being murdered, and upon seeing that the authorities weren't going to punish the merchant for murdering her, her spirit rose from the grave and began to haunt his estate.
She took great pleasure in throwing things around the house and smashing any mirrors and glasses that she could see. She would even write messages on his walls, demanding that he hand himself over to the authorities.
Driven mad by the hauntings, the merchant killed himself.
But this didn't appease Charlotte's spirit. Still wanting revenge for her murder, Charlotte still haunts the place where the merchant's estate once stood.
A fairly well off man, Charlotte's father, James, didn't see the wisdom of panning or mining for gold. Instead, he invested the families life savings into running a pub for the prospectors and soldiers.
At first business for James was booming, and the family was able to afford a small too room house to live in, instead of living in a tent amongst the prospectors. This was an improvement for Charlotte who was a sickly child and had been constantly sick since the family moved to Ballarat. Although Charlotte's health never fully recovered, she was no longer bed ridden and able to join the rest of the family when they went for trips around Ballarat.
After almost a year living in Ballarat, things took a turn for the worse for Charlotte's family; during a brawl at his pub, James was brutally murdered, leaving his wife, Emily, to look after the family alone. She had no way of going back to her family in London.
For a couple of months after James' death, Emily was able to live off the money that James had saved from the pub. But once this money ran out, Emily was forced to find employment. As were the older children. Too sick to get paid work, Charlotte was left to look after the younger children while everyone else went out to work.
In this vein the family was able to eke out a mean existance for a few months until Emily was arrested for prostitution. Now completely alone, the rest of the children were also forced to find paid employment.
Because of her poor health, Charlotte was unable to find paid employment, and in an effort to do her share of work resorted to begging on the streets. Many of the soldiers took great pleasure in making her sing before throwing a shilling on the ground for her to chase after.
It was during one of these ordeals that a rich local merchant heard her singing and realized that she had a lovely voice. He immediately took her under his wing and set her up to become a star.
For a short time, Charlotte enjoyed an easy life, her benefactor seeing to her every need, making sure that she never wanted for anything. However, there was a dark motive behind his generosity; he wanted Charlotte for himself. One night he made an advance towards her, which she refused. Angry that she would dare to be so ungrateful after all of his generosity, he raped and murdered Charlotte. He buried her body in an unmarked grave on his estate just outside of Ballarat.
But that wasn't the end of Charlotte. She wanted justice for being murdered, and upon seeing that the authorities weren't going to punish the merchant for murdering her, her spirit rose from the grave and began to haunt his estate.
She took great pleasure in throwing things around the house and smashing any mirrors and glasses that she could see. She would even write messages on his walls, demanding that he hand himself over to the authorities.
Driven mad by the hauntings, the merchant killed himself.
But this didn't appease Charlotte's spirit. Still wanting revenge for her murder, Charlotte still haunts the place where the merchant's estate once stood.
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