The Haunted House

On my tourist trip through Europe where I ventured recently, I travelled through so many countries seeing things I want to see, and I enjoyed the gourmet tucker put on as the local fare, eating snails, spaghetti, frogs’ legs, and horse meat served up rare. I enjoyed the local customs with the music and the dance, plus the native national costume be it either dress or pants. Then there are the ancient buildings that are crumbling with age, but then I needed answers from an eerie history page. I was in the Scottish Highlands with a group of touring folk. We were walking through a castle when someone asked the bloke who was teaching us the history of this mediaeval fort, a simple question “Are there ghosts?” But his answer came up short. For the guide just shook his head and smiled “Sorry, we don’t have a ghost”, and he pointed out a window then with a soft voice from our host, “Legend has it in that house down there a man was murdered in his bed, three hundred years ago and still today, his spirit seeks his killer’s head. “ The air went cold and silence reigned with minds upon that ghostly thought – but hang on - ghosts aren’t real; it’s just a local money making rort. I knew the buggers had some bloody scheme to capture tourist cash, so I thought I’d ‘take the mickey’, and shot down there in a flash. I knocked on the door and stepped back; then I heard it creak and groan. This creepy bugger old and frail asked in a quivering moan, “How can I help you?” - I replied, “I just got the word old son. I’ve been trying to find a bloody ghost and they tell me you have one”. Immediately the rort was on; he asked me for a couple of pound, so I handed him his entry dough and took a look around. Cobwebs covered all the windows; strange echoes filled the air from mystery sounds beyond the walls as if someone is there. But I knew what he was up to; all he did was flick a switch, and from hidden speakers I did hear this very ghostly pitch. When the show was over I tried to humour my demented host. I said that I was real concerned, for I might have really seen a ghost. “Don’t worry” quivered this old bloke, “You don’t have to fear, in all my time spent in this house I’ve never seen one here”. I asked, “How long have you lived here?” And could not believe me ears, when his eyes flared and then he said - “About three hundred years!”