Hello friends. Are you spooked yet? Well today I continue with my guest submission by Angie Deptula. Wasn’t her submission earlier today just chilling? Well, your in for a extra treat with her final submission. Happy reading my spooks.
There once was a boarding school for delinquent girls, named Martha Washington Institute or Martha Washington School for Girls. It was located at Brighton Beach on Lake Washington in Seattle. It functioned from 1900-1971, and at one point became known as “Martha Washington School for the Insane Girls.” Prior to this, Judge Smith had owned the house. Smith built the home with a nursery and a boathouse, with a hollow stairway to a madrone tree on the property, a location that plays a role in today’s hauntings. Rumors of violence, murder and suicide are associated with the school while it was opened. It is thought that a janitor of the school had raped and killed a girl by hanging her on the tree. Whether this hanging was done on the madrone tree or not, I’m not aware of that.
In 1971, after the school closed, a satanic group utilized the building for rituals and sacrificed animals on the property. Because this is within a residential location, the general community became uneasy with the building so the city council decided to have the building demolished and turned into a park. Today, without knowing the history of the location, one would think nothing of it.
The park is a popular spot for people to walk their dogs at, or relax and picnic on a nice sunny day. However when nighttime comes, the empty park has an ominous atmosphere. Paranormal activities occur frequently. The old madrone tree is still present and is thought to have ghostly energies attached to it. And the area where the stairway Judge Smith once built is still there and is thought to be a portal. Visitors often feel a presence or become uneasy in that area like they’re being watched. Disembodied footsteps and screaming have also been reported in the park. Teenagers who visit in odd numbers have had a spirit follow them home. A mom who was once visiting the park one evening took a picture of her son and noticed behind him an apparition of a girl looking right at her. Sightings of a girl have been reported multiple times by different sources as well.
One in particular is from a good friend of mine, Pam. One day Pam and her two friends visited the park early in the morning. The girls walked around the empty park. Pam was walking with one of her friend, while the other was off somewhere else. Pam caught movement from her peripheral and turned, noticing a female apparition of a girl in a white nightgown walking, coming up side-by- side to her and her friend. She choked up, froze, the blood rushed out of her face as she realized this girl was translucent. Pam’s friend quickly realized why: Her friend acknowledged the ghostly girl too. They ran and called for their other friend, hurrying to the car. Inside the car, the new car would not start. The girls panicked, feeling ice cold, squealing and squirming in their seats. After a few minutes, the car finally started and they sped away. Pam and the girls have never returned since.
I have been to the park too, with friends, but have never experienced anything like that. I never explored the park long enough, probably because I was too chicken from all the spooky stories I’ve heard of. However, I did feel uneasy, overcome with chills as I felt like invisible eyes were on me the whole time. It’s indescribable, but the place really does feel ominous at night. I wonder if this girl in the white dress or nightgown is the same girl who was killed or murdered at the school, and if she’s the same apparition seen over and over by others? I can imagine there being other spirits on site as well if the place was once used as a satanic gathering. The mysteries of this place are left unknown, but the uneasiness it provokes onto visitors still remains.
Hello my spooky friends. I have a guest submission story for you today. And trust me, it brought shivers to this little piggy. The story comes from our great friend Angie Deptula. Please be sure to let her know what you think. We send off many thanks for this submission ❤
Ring Around the Rosie
Ada Langan looked and thought nothing special or peculiar about the oval leather mirror. Old and worn, the aged leather, despite a gash on the right corner, looked decent. She walked away from the bedroom, appreciating the secondhand mirror that came with her new place. The apartment couldn’t have been more perfect: spacious, high ceilings, and such charm on top of Capitol Hill. For the price, she would have been insane to pass on the amazing deal. It was unheard of for a thousand-square-feet place to cost only eight hundred dollars! She not only had a bedroom, but now an office where she could study for her MCAT, and a splendid bathroom with a porcelain claw foot tub.
Inside the office, she unpacked her textbooks, stacking them onto her bookshelf. Silence suppressed her cheery vibe and she yearned for music. She walked into the living room, switched on the light and approached her iPod station on a vintage chest. She pushed the ON button and closed her eyes, smiled to Etta James’ voice.
Ada took two steps into the office and froze, bewildered. Etta’s voice stopped in mid-singing, as the familiar nursery rhyme “Ring Around the Rosie” played in full blast. She heard a little girl’s laughter, little footsteps creaked on the hardwood floor.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
No answer.
She scanned the room and grabbed her wooden umbrella. Tiptoeing, she inched forward, balancing her stride and holding her breath, then thought she was being silly. A little girl could do no harm and she had no reason to be afraid. She dropped her precarious stance and walked into the living room, still grasping the umbrella. Her presence stopped the child’s song, but next to the iPod her incense glowed and the room was redolent with citrus. Certain she did not light the incense, she suspected the child intruder. But no one stood among her in the living room, which connected to the open kitchen. Her little intruder couldn’t have gone anywhere else but out the front door. If the little girl had come towards the bedroom or office she would have seen her.
Ada rested the umbrella against the wall and opened the front door, the door that she didn’t lock and scolded herself for not doing so. The long dim hallway stood empty. Halloween decorations adorned her neighbors’ doors, reminding her of Hallow Eve’s Day. Kids were out trick-or-treating, reveling in their sweet treats. Despite so, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was an easy victim of a Halloween prank by a neighbor’s disobedient child. She remembered seeing three kids on her floor, and one of them being a little girl. Would that same little girl come in here and dare do such thing? But how could the girl have turned on the music that didn’t exist on her playlist?
Closing the door, she turned the lock and made a mental note of it for next time. She had a habit of forgetting such little but important details. Several steps toward the office, she acknowledged her wrong assumption. She listened to the light footsteps coming from inside the bedroom. A little girl’s chuckle taunted her and meddled with her patience. She had enough. Whoever’s child this was needed to be reprimanded by the mother for trespassing.
Her rushed footsteps entered the bedroom where she expected to find the little girl. But no sight of her. Ada eyed the portal to her clothes. She remembered hiding inside closets as a little girl.
“I know you’re in there.”
She reached for the door. No little girl hid behind the hanging clothes. Pushing the door back, her throat tightened and body tensed when she felt her shirt tugged from behind. Finding courage, she turned around but saw no one. Then the bedroom door slammed shut and she jolted, the scare wreaking havoc on her heart.
“Ring Around the Rosie” emanated from the living room and the tone of the child singer turned malicious. Ada felt a chill that felt like death and it magnetized the hairs on her goosebumps. A heavy force set upon her lanky body and stopped her in her tracks as she ran for the door. The light in the room morphed into a fiery glow, playing tricks on her eyes. The oval mirror whispered her name, inviting her over. Compelled to look into the mirror, she sauntered towards it and gazed into her own brown eyes. Paralyzed, she couldn’t scream or tear away from her own grinning image. She knew not one muscle fiber of her face helped her wear that ominous smirk. She ached to break free, run away and hide from her mirror image.
The music slowed in the background, the repetitive lyrics flowed out as though each word meant to linger. The invisible girl taunted her prey with maddening chuckles from behind and waited…
In the mirror Ada’s eyes darkened like black buttons and her complexion mottled. Her ears tuned in to the child’s malevolent voice.
Ring around the Rosie
Ada’s neck and face developed red rings, rosy bumps.
Pocket full of Posies
The citrus aroma dissipated and replaced with a foul, rotting smell.
Ashes, Ashes
Ada’s lung burned and she wheezed. Her eyes dilated as though they were going to pop. Her flesh felt volcanic and the rotten air suffocated her.
We all Fall Down
Ada collapsed on the floor, a loud thud. A little blond girl manifested with empty eyes and smiled down on her as she fell into darkness.
Oh my friends. I do hope you have been enjoying my 31 Days of Spook with me this year. I have had so much fun sharing with you so many spooky things – things that go bump in the night – things that create shadows in the dark – things that maybe make you do a double take. Today, I have another story submission. This one is from my great friend Fozzie in Australia. Do you know Fozzie? If not, you need to go visit her now and check her out. She’s got some great stories and photographs from Australia that will absolutely blow you away. Check her out and tell her this little oinker sent you 🙂 And thanks Fozzie for a great story my friend ❤
“When I came home from hospital with Rhiannon..(some 29 years ago), we lived in a small two bedroom flat. Bradley, our eldest, was in his own room and Rhiannon slept in a cot in our room. She must have been about a month old when this happened.
We had in our room an old white wicker chair, you know the type that belongs on a porch under the shade of a wisteria. This chair was my grandmas (she was still alive at the time of this incident). Now the story went my grandma and her sister had some to and fro’s over who got to have this chair..and as it happened my grandma got it.. her sister is now deceased. I always loved it and my grandma was happy to give it to me. And so it sat in the corner of our bedroom..
One night I was woken with the fright of my life. As I lay on my side asleep, I felt a hand grab my shoulder! I sat bolt upright frozen. Phil was fast asleep. Rhiannon fast asleep. Me wide awake and terrified!
I woke Phil and made him get up to check the flat all over…nothing. I went back to bed..but not to sleep. This happened again for the next three nights. I was terrified so badly that I went to my doctor.
I told him I was sure I was losing my mind,such a violent grab and yet nothing! My doctor, such a cool young guy he was, simply said to me, ““There’s a lot more to life than what we think. You aren’t nuts, just experiencing something you are not tuned to.”
Eventually, I relaxed a bit more and the grabbing stopped…after I politely asked it to stop as I was needing sleep…since then I have lots of special things happen. Life indeed is a weird and mysterious journey.”
Hello my spooky friends. Thank you so very much for staying with me during my 31 Days of Spook. We really hope that all of you are shaking and shivering by now with our scary stories. Here at the Hotel Thompson, we just want you to enjoy every single spooky day that October has to give!
Today, we have another guest story submission. This one is from my friend Lori. Do you know Lori and her ducks? If you don’t know them, you are definitely missing out on beautiful pictures, wonderful stories on her ducks. You just have to go visit their blog. Please make it a point to visit my friend Lori – tell her that Bacon sent you. This is her tale – enjoy my friends!
Christmas at Hanging Rock
By Lori Fontanes
There’s a visitors center at Hanging Rock but on that stifling day right before Christmas, we pretty much had the place to ourselves. I vaguely recall one other couple, possibly on their way out, but after that, no one. And it really was hot, even by Australian standards, and even though antipodal December means the end of spring, it must have hit triple digits. That year, summer had come early, or maybe only at the Rock.
I’d wondered about the strange site known as Hanging Rock ever since watching Peter Weir’s lyrical film, which takes place on its stony peaks. “Picnic At Hanging Rock” dreamily reenacts the supposed real-life disappearance of a teacher and her students on Valentine’s Day in the year 1900. The girls and their chaperones go for a picnic but some don’t come back. They disappear between the silent stones, without explanation. Where did they go and why? If they were taken, why not the others? Since the movie doesn’t provide answers, we’d decided to see for ourselves. One hundred years after the alleged events, we thought it would be fun to pretend to investigate. We left our rental car in the parking lot, grabbed two water bottles and started climbing.
I’m not really good in hot weather. It’s my husband who thrives in the heat. Like a desert creature, he absorbs the radiance and turns it into useful energy. I wilt. As we slogged our way to the top, weaving among the huge boulders, he tried to joke me out of my increasingly foul mood. It had to be 100 degrees or close to it and I felt thirstier than our water could satisfy. Nonetheless, I suggested we ration the supply carefully. Since it wasn’t supposed to be a long hike, my husband merely shrugged. See, he’s the optimist and I’m the realist. I like to be prepared; he likes to leave for the airport at the last minute. And there we were, alone, on this weird outcropping of volcanic rock in the middle of rural Victoria.
As I think about it now, I realize that no one knew where we were. We didn’t tell the hotel staff, our families were celebrating the holidays thousands of miles away and in these pre-smartphone days, no one expected you to stay in constant contact. It was 2000 (yes, Y2K) so I guess we had a cell phone but I doubt we could have gotten reception. Hanging Rock is that type of lonely, an inland Bermuda Triangle, buzzing with insects, desolate and blistering. In fact, I wonder if the igneous formations hold a sort of magnetic charm that distorts compasses and makes minds struggle. That day, I told myself it was just the heat. It’s hard to think straight when the mercury hits those highs.
About halfway up, when it didn’t look like we’d meet anyone else, my husband started in with his silliness. I guess you could call it romance. Either way, it was the last thing I needed so I ignored his playfulness.
“Let’s keep going,” I said.
“Let’s go this way,” he said.
His way didn’t feel right.
“No, I think the sign says this way,” I demurred.
He wouldn’t listen. I hung back as he entered a small archway that somehow I knew wouldn’t work. Stubbornly, I stood there and watched him go. I don’t remember the details. He may have cried out. Like I said, I can’t remember.
He emerged pretty quickly.
“You’re right, it’s not the way,” he said.
“What happened?”
I moved past him to see. The path he’d chosen led to another opening and then, a sheer drop. He must have stopped in time but he may have slipped because somehow he lost both bottles down the slope.
We kept going.
I tried not to think about losing the water. We had a distance to hike before reaching the top. Or should we turn around now? Should I say something? Would it matter?
And then, we arrived. It looked like the summit or close enough. Was there a rock like an altar? A platform? Or maybe nothing at all, my memory doesn’t say. All I know is how bright it was and still. Quiet, like the inside of your breath when you hold it. I didn’t know what that quiet meant.
My husband tried to kiss me. I sidled away. It didn’t seem like a good idea. I might have said, are you crazy?
He might have said, yes.
“Let’s go.”
I kept my voice as weightless as possible. Bugs sang in counterpoint to my clattering heart. I walked quickly in the direction of escape.
My husband made an off-color comment then followed. I fought my rising anxiety, wanting to read the path with clarity, not fear. We decided to go down a different way. He might have suggested it. I might have agreed.
It might have been the heat.
We came to an intersection where once more, he wanted one way and I, the other. I don’t know how I knew it but on this point I’m perfectly clear: If we’d gone his way, we might not have come back. At that moment, I felt completely certain that the Rock wanted him to stay. And I couldn’t tell him that. So I had to convince him to follow me. I ignored the insects, the heat, my thirst, our dusty isolation and said, in my calmest voice, “Let’s go this way.”
Hello my spooky friends. Thank you so very much for staying with me during my 31 Days of Spook. Have you been enjoying the stories, the thrills, the things that go bump in the night? Today, we have another guest story submission. This one is from my friend Bree. Do you know her? She’s Reilly and Denny’s mom. If you don’t know them, you have so got to visit their blog. They are great. And personally, I don’t think those pooches take a bad picture – I’m just saying. Please make it a point to visit my friend Bree – tell her that Bacon sent you. This is her tale – enjoy my friends!
“When I was very little – only 4 years, we lived in London in a very old house. One morning I woke up and was very sick and feeling very scared but then this little old lady came into room and sat on the bed talking to me. She told me some wonderful stories in her soft Scottish accent and she would sing to me too – and lull me to sleep. Every morning she would come and visit. She was very small only about 4′ 5”, had grey/white hair pulled back tightly and wore a little cap like the the one Andy Capp wears. She also had a little white pipe – like the one Popeye had. She wore a long black skirt with big pockets on the front of it, big brown lace up boots and had layers of sweaters on. She smelled of lavender and even to this day I still think of her when I smell it.
My Mom came in one morning and asked me who I was talking too. I didn’t know her name so I pointed to her and said, “Grandah”. Mom looked around and couldn’t see anyone and yet there she was sitting on the end on the bed. Whenever any of my brothers or sister was sick she would appear and we always knew she was about the house because we suddenly would smell the lavender. Our Mom too smelled the lavender but never saw or knew who Grandah was until one day she showed us a very old photo of our great grandma and it was her! She had been dead for over thirty years and yet there she would come visit us when ever we were sick and we knew she would make us feel better.”
I hope everyone had a great and wonderful weekend – not too many boos and ghosts. Today, we have another guest story submission. This one is from my friend Kelly at Boomdeeadda. Do you know her? If you don’t, you are so missing out on entertainment and a wonderful spirit – snorts how appropriate today huh? Please make it a point to visit my friend Kelly at Boomdeeadda – tell her that Bacon sent you.
“Dear Bacon, I thought I’d tell you about a holiday I took with my girlfriend to visit her Grandma. We were both 13 and staying for a week. We were sleeping in the basement of her old house. Every night, my friend and I would get out a Ouija Board and ask it all kinds of questions. The first few nights were fun and silly with lots of giggles.
One night, it was especially animated. It was just flying around the board. At first we thought it was all nonsense, then we started to write down the letters. Some of the words we didn’t even know. So we went upstairs to ask Grandma for a dictionary (no home computers in 1974, ha). To our surprise, the board had spelled words neither of us knew but they were in the dictionary. After accusing each other, we were so freaked out, we put the Ouija Board out in the garage and never touched it the rest of the holiday. I don’t know about my girlfriend, but I’ve never used one since. Too freaky.
I don’t know who we had visit, but they sure scared the heck out of us….hey I just noticed, the first three letters of my blog name spell BOO! eeeeek :D”
Oh my sweet friends. How are you holding up so far with my 31 Days of Spook? Are you leaving the lights on at night yet? Are you watching all of the shadows behind you? Are you spooked when someone says hello to you? Snorts – if you are, buckle up those seat belts because I’ve got a great scary story for you today. This story was submitted by my friend Easy. If you haven’t met Easy, please visit his blog and tell them that Bacon sent you. Without further ado, here it is straight from Easy’s mouth – his horror story 🙂
“The Haunted Archipelago of Britanny or the Archipel des Glénan is located some miles westwards of my crib.
Because the whole area was subtropic once, the archipelago with 9 islands and a lot of dead coral reefs accrued there. There are Saint Nicholas, Loc’h, Penfret, Drenec, Guiautec,Quignénec, Bananec, Brunec and Cigogne. Some are inhabited, some are abandoned and some are occupied by sheeps – butt ALL are haunted. The reefs and rocks and the the special drifts shall be the reason that many ships got lost there and a giant ships graveyard was built during the years. But the truth is, that this ships were sunken by La Groac’h de l’île du Loc’h, a witch who lives on the island Loc’h. She is the richest woman of the world, because she collected all the treasures from the ships she pulled to the ground of the sea. She is described as a beautiful girl what caught the sailors who lost their ships, butt in reality she is a wild creature, as ugly as a baboons ass with snakes and algues in her hair and with giant fangs in her mouth.
Her home is at the bottom of a lake at Loc’h and it’s being said that this lake has a secret connection to the ocean where she is luring for her victims. Once in the clutches of La Groac’h you belong to her fur ever and ever…
and ever…. Maaaan, thanks Overlook-Twins, are you everywhere or what? Breeze off!
Because the bretons are practical thinking people, they built a chapel and a cemetery on Loc’h, where they buried the sailors who died in maritime disasters. That was much easier than to bring them to mainland, because they anyway landed at the island of La Groac’h. And btw. the striped sailor shirts, called Mariniére or matelot , were invented there. Dating back to March 1858 French Navy-Wear Act when all mariners were required to wear a blue and white striped top in order to aid spotting and rescuing should they fall into the sea. The rules required 21 white stripes of 20 mm and 20/21 blue stripes of 10 mm and soon all sailors, particularly around the busy ports of Brittany were wearing it. The legend tells that every one of the 21 stripes stands for a victory of Napoleon… and the hole for the neck probably stands for Waterloo or what? Butt anyway that’s the shirt what became famous in 1917 as Coco Chanel wore it with widelegged pants. Althought many designers and chainstores copied that style , the original is made by ARMOR LUX, they are still in business and if you want to be prepared for all reasons what can happen at sea, you should get one.
Another island, called Cigogne has a fort, what was built in 1717 to safe the coast from pirates, dutchmen and brits. The fort was used by french troops and during the WWII occupied by germans. Today the island is used by the world famous Sailing School Les Glénans, but it’s totally haunted and during stormy nights you can hear the screaming and howling of the lost souls of the former residents. Sometimes a sudden mist comes up there and between the fog patches you can discover the praying arms of the lost souls who crave for salvation.
Till today the archipelago is a beautiful but dangerous area, every year the coast guards find bodies of smart tourists or people from Paris who thought they can hop from island to island by foot during ebb tide. Some of them end as the prey of La Groac’h who is insatiable. Also many ships end there, from rubber-rafts to million-dollar yachts, La Groac’h knows no difference. Treasure hunters mostly land between their objects of desire or in jail, because the whole area is a protected reservate.
And the boast of some bathtub-captains and the special weather there, what changes within minutes without a warning, are La Groac’hs helpers… That’s very annoying for the coast guards who have to risk their lifes to collect the peeps who fidget in the creek after a sudden storm… and otherways their Bouillabaisse, the traditional meal after a storm gets cold while they have to pick up that folks…and a cold Bouillabaisse is totally NOT tasty, just saying…
Hey my sweet friends. Today, we have another guest story submission. This one is from my friend Molly. Do you know her? If you don’t, you are so missing out on a very sweet and entertaining pup. Please make it a point to visit my friend Molly – tell her that Bacon sent you. Here’s her story submission – I hope you enjoy. Try not to get too scared my friends 🙂
HALLOWEEN TALES FROM SPOOKY LONDON POND SQUARE
As it is ‘Shocktober, we thought today we’d bring you a story from bizarre spooky London. So heading off to Pond Square, Highgate we will recount the story of the ghostly chicken.
Sir Francis Bacon (1561-1626) was a politician, a writer and a philosopher who also dabbled in some well, unusual scientific experiments when he wasn’t hamming it up. He was a pioneer in the theory that refrigeration might be used as a means of preserving meat. On a bitterly cold January morning in 1626, Bacon decided to put his theory to the test by purchasing a chicken, having it slaughtered and plucked. He then proceeded to stuff its carcass with snow. Opps looks like this chicken just got a licking. Such a fowl way to die! Ironically Sir Francis Bacon caught a severe chill as a result of his experiment and was taken to nearby Arundel House (a poultry excuse for a hospital) where he was placed in a damp bed and he died shortly afterwards from suffocation.
Ever since then, there have been frequent reports of a phantom bird, resembling a plucked chicken, that appears from nowhere and races round the square in frantic circles, flapping its wings and noiselessly clucking away. What is a haunted chicken called? A poultry-geist! Terence Long was crossing Pond Square late at night in 1943 when he heard the sound of horses hooves and the low rumble of carriage wheels. Suddenly, a loud raucous shriek, split the silence, and the ghostly chicken appeared before him. It then proceeded to run frantically around and then vanished into thin air. In the 1960’s a motorist whose car had broken down encountered the same apparition. Fearful that the bird may be harmed and in need of help he approached it, only to have it disappear when he turned away. A courting couple in the 1970’s, had their ‘peck’ on the cheek interrupted by the chicken who suddenly dropped from above landing next to them. In recent years, however, sighting of the featherless phantom have been few and far between and it might just be possible that its restless spirit has finally ’gone to the light, and accepted it’s part in the scientific breakthrough for which it gave its life. Cluck , cluck where did I pluck this from, is it a load of cock & bull I hear you say? Finger lickin good!
Oh squeal – friends today is a great story submission. Today’s story is sent in anonymously to be shared with you. Perhaps it will make you think twice about doing a double take. You don’t get the meaning of that? Well then – please enjoy the story my friends.
“A strange thing happened this past Sunday. I was in church before the service, doing those busy things I normally do. I walked through the church during the the gathering congregation and saw an older woman, a friend, sitting beside someone I didn’t recognize. I took note of it primarily because she wasn’t sitting in the pew where she usually sat, but thought nothing more. I was quite focused on my duties and paid no more attention to it.
When the service finally started, I suddenly realized that the old woman I had seen had passed away earlier this year. I looked immediately to the pew where I had seen her, and she, nor the person I had seen her sitting by that I didn’t recognize, were not there.
I’m still trying to process this. It was real. It was weird. It is comforting (I think).”
How are you making it my dear sweet friends. Are you enjoying my 31 Days of Spook. Are you getting scared yet? Do you need to hold my hoof? Today I have another great story submission by my pals Mop, Dusty, Billy, Pip, Cupcake and Cocoa. Do you know these happy little guinea pigs from Living the Squeak Life? If you don’t you are surely missing out on some entertainment and adventures. Be sure to visit their blog – and tell them that Bacon sent you.
“Whee went on a little camp not too long ago and stayed in a grand old house once the home of an old Earl. It wasn’t long before whee learned that the hall had many creepy stories hanging over it, wheek! Now whee will share our tale with you. Mop, being our story-teller, will lead this story.
I led my friends up the stairs. There were many grand stairs which led to a large room at the bottom. The perfect place for a wedding. I could already imagine the Bride-Pig coming down here from one side, meeting her father before descending down to meet the Groom-Pig at the bottom of the stairs.
Seemed I wasn’t the only one who thought this! For, what were the odds that on that very day there was a wedding? A beautiful piggy in a gorgeous dress sat at the top of the stairs.
“Sorry!” I squeaked, filled with embarrassment. Pip was rather attracted to the pale grey sow but, I promptly reminded him that she was in a wedding dress. “I didn’t realize that there was a wedding here today.”
She promised that it was okay and so on whee carried. After exploring the hall whee headed back down to where our tour guide waited. “You didn’t tell us there was a wedding today!” Cupcake wheeked, ever the old romantic.
“There isn’t.” He replied.
Whee were horrified! Who was that whee had bumped into? A bit of research soon uncovered a creepy story about an unfaithful Bride-Pig who slept with another boar on the night before her wedding. In a rage the Groom-Pig killed her and she has wandered the halls ever since, looking for the wedding that never was. Is it her who whee saw? The Grey Piggy of the hall?”
Miniature pot bellied pig and friends - Bacon, Houdini, Hemi and all of the Rock Clan with Journalist Rocky the Squirrel all out looking for adventures from the Hotel Thompson.
u Loc’h,
, they are still in business and if you want to be prepared for all reasons what can happen at sea, you should get one.
Piglove 