I hate moving house. I hate moving house for the obvious reasons - the stress, the annoyance, the pointless days spent looking at horrible properties, maintaining a passive aggressive relationship with the real estate agent who keeps showing you places that are neither in your specs or budget. Yet when I find a place to live I like to rest in the fact that it is close to public transport, has a nice kitchen/bathroom, has a good hiding spot for the "cat" that doesn't exist, and most importantly - not haunted
But then they aren't likely to tell you it's haunted are they??
Sounds pretty nice! £1100 a week, bit pricey, but look what you're getting! Marble Flooring, Floor heating (let me tell you how much cat's love them! not that I have cats.. who said cats??) loft access from the master bedrooms bathroom ceiling?? why?? that is probably the hatch they use to contact the dead creature that lives up there and feeds off your nightmares:
Overreacting am I? AM IIIIIII?!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Welcome to the Princess Park Manor - the stately manor where you live in your expensive apartment. What a history - conceived in the 1800's... foundation stone laid by Prince Albert, nothing seems amiss here, what a right royal history, perfect building. But who keeps gravitating your eggs around the kitchen??
Life's grand. You have dinner parties, and answer the door looking like this:
There is no Dana, only Zule. and your name isn't even Dana, and you can't remember ever going to the hairdressers and asking for a perm. that's how crazy this apartment is. The apartment begins to take over your life, you can't get a good sleep, every night you wake up suspended in mid-air and that's just annoying because you are rich and can afford one of those memory foam mattresses, not only that, now you can't even have dinner parties because your furniture is always moving around the place, and your niece who you said you would babysit gets sucked into a vortex and now you are officially the worst Aunty of all time.
So what's up then?? What is it about this oldy worldy apartment that makes it the gateway to hell? oh news flash - you're living in the ruins of a criminally insane asylum.
Welcome to the Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum. You got your rapists, murderers, garden variety psychotics, most of whom probably passed away quietly in the night fighting off the demons that seeped out of the walls to consume them during waking hours. That's not so bad, but what about the 52 who died in a mysterious fire? what about them!?! They are in your house. Right Now. Reading This. Over Your Shoulder. BREATHING THEIR ICY COLD BREATH DOWN YOUR NECK!
Oh sorry, that's not me - that's the people who live in the aptly named "Princess Park Manor" Princess of Poltergeists more like. Good luck sleeping. At least you've got your double glazing windows. So no one can hear you screaming. From Outside.