This is the oldest building in Georgia. It was a stop on the ghost tour I took today in the back of a hearse. While taking a photo, my iPhone detected a face. So. Basically, here’s proof of ghosts. I photographed a ghost. Look. There’s its face.
What if the ghosts of Aaliyah, Selena, and Mary Todd Lincoln woke you up late one night just to chat?
Like, you’re in a nice little REM cycle and Mary starts hovering over you going “wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up” and Aaliyah scans/judges your bookshelf and Selena stares up at the moon through your window while humming a tune she’s been working on and you’re like “um ladies excuse me what’s going on what’re you doing in my room” and they’re like “we wanted to talk to you about ‘Les Mis’ for a hot second.”
Ghosts.
Yesterday I was sitting next to a group of adults who were talking about ghosts and haunted houses and
one of them said something like, “My friends’ house is legitimately haunted,” and showed photos of a floor covered in knives. She said that each time her friends arrive home, their set of kitchen knives is arranged in the same seemingly random pattern on the floor. Again, the phrase “legitimately haunted” was used. “They installed security cameras and everything.” No word on what the security cameras captured, though. (Obviously.)
Another guy mentioned that his LA apartment is “literally haunted,” but that the constant presence actually makes him more comfortable. “It’s like I’m being watched over,” he said. “It helps me sleep.”
I don’t know exactly where I’m going with this, but when I was in high school my parents left me home alone while they had a “date night” and, well into the night and after hearing a noise on my parents’ deck, I suddenly became convinced our house was being broken into. I turned on the alarm, brought two chef’s knives to my bathroom and waited for over an hour until my parents came home. In an effort to avoid discussing my embarrassing night, I waited until they went to sleep before returning the knives to the kitchen.
So. Like. Look. I don’t believe in ghosts, but if I came home and found knives on my kitchen floor MULTIPLE TIMES, either my heart would explode or I would lock myself in a bathroom while making friends with every single 911 operator in New York.
“It helps me sleep”? Are you shitting me?
You don’t need context.
copywriter/moviegoer/GIF-maker/panicker/not always there win you call/always on time
