Salutations, fearest reader. Allow me to introduce myself. Some know me as Demonologist, others, reverentially, as Investighoster, but you, my intrepid friend may simply refer to me as Ghost Hunter (or simply, Bill, if you wish to reach me via email). If truth be said, I came to the city of Exeter to give myself a brief respite from my occupation. You see, ghosts are as tireless as they are tiring to investigate. Of course, while no residency on this Earth is spectre free, there are some places where the undead are less bothersome – perhaps even restful. I was under the impression that Exeter was such a place. But alas, ‘twas not. ‘Tis not. Nay, these spirits were not restful at all. They were, in fact, restless. Tread carefully, fearest reader, for the happenings I will confer in my investigations are no ordinary happenings. For instance, have you ever ventured forth to £2.50 (formally £2) meals? And have you, by chance, taken a refreshing beverage from their fridge? You may recall it refusing to close, instead, insisting to swing open, releasing a cold, ghostly chill. Perhaps you brushed this incidence aside. Perhaps, like many, you were a fool. But this is no ordinary phenomenon. You may argue the failure to close was due to faulty design; you may argue that the chill arose from the very fridge itself. Though I wish such explanations were true, they are but fallacies. There is only one explanation: ghosts, are at play. Tremble, if you dare, fearest reader, but take care not to tremble too vigorously. Ghosts can smell fear, you know. It’s in your sweat.
