The tourist trail was a distant memory now,the days of elbowing our way in amongst the multitudinous camera clicking hoards to take a photo of a Glacier or mountain were long gone as we journeyed the road less travelled,onward to the real New Zealand. Destination St Bathans, more specifically The Vulcan Hotel and a night in the Haunted hostelry.
A brooding overcast day, a brief stop in a grave yard and nothing and no one for miles, set the scene perfectly as the fun bus screeched to a halt on the gravel car park opposite the the exceedingly ordinary looking, yet infamous, Vulcan Hotel and the reputedly haunted, room 1.
After much debate we booked in for the night and were shown to the room adjacent to spooksville central, we agreed to take it then settled down to a lovely meal and pondered the night ahead.
We were the only guests and according to the visitors book, only the third set of visitors in the last year, yes this was a happening place. Communication proved to be difficult that night as it often does for these wondering pomms, I ordered a pint of old dark, I got a Jug of VB, not once but twice. I reasoned with the apprehensive bride that alcohol in abundance was the best protection against Ghosts and Goolies, so as the night drew on and the little bar filled with country folk, we supped till we could sup no more and made our way to bed.
I locked the door and checked under the bed,I don't do scared as a rule but I'd decided there was no fookin way I was walking that corridor to the toilet at night so a nice porcelain sink would be the receptacle for my unwanted VB, if needed, and under the dresser lay an old potty should the bride be taken short.
We snuggled down into the comfy creaky old bed and noticed how dark dark can be "fooks me its black in the wop wops bride" says I "black as arseholes I reckon" I continued to deaf ears, for she had slipped away already.
It really was dark, so dark that I could not even see my Penis which usually nestles itself just under my chin when I sleep on my back
I too succumbed to the affects of too much beer and slipped off to sleep....
At precisely 1.00 am, we were awoken to the most horrendous noise, the noise of the door to our room being forced , the handle was twisted vigorously and the door sounded like it was being shook off its hinges, in a blackness I have never before witnessed, in a forgotten hotel in the middle of nowhere in the early hours of the morning, something or someone, was tying to force its way into our room. After 20 seconds or so the attack ceased, nothing more was heard, not even footsteps away from the door.
I earnestly ask you now, Kbers of the night. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT
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Originally Posted by shafty
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