Clouston Hall

*100% true except I forgot the names srry! So I made up names and put them in.* The girl who died in the banister, the renters who died mysteriously, the stories of the paranormal activity at this modern day art gallery. Taken place in the 1880's and made me pee my pants for months (LOL JK but I was scared.). Keep readin for a true story, and my entry for the spooky story competition.

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2. The ghost stories.

An art studio? A perfect place for me to rent out! My name is Tim Burlock and this is my partner Joey Rudler, we are a tag team of artists from California. I truly want to rent out the place, but it's in Franklin, Tennessee, and we are in Los Angeles, California. The place is renting out for as long as wanted and it comes with the supplies! Good deal right? They also pay for more supplies! I look over at Joey "We should rent out this place, it's called the clouston art gallery." I say hesitantly, careful not to rush it. "where is it..?" He asks obviously suspicious. I tell him where quietly. "Tennessee?!" he hollers. "THATS HOURS AWAY!" I flinch back into my green cushioned chair. "If we pay the rent, they pay for the whole trip along with our art supplies." I mumble. Gosh Joey needs to calm down. "Fine, we need the studio and it's a good deal, let's pack up, and give them a call." he says. **at hall in future this took place in 2009** "so here are the keys and just call us up if there's a problem!" the land lord said. Seems fair enough. "um thanks c'mon Tim let's unpack out suitcases." Joey guesturred me towards the door. We walk in the hall to see a massive banister, two huge front rooms, a cellar door, and of course the bedrooms and bathrooms. We make our way to the bedrooms to unpack. After we unpacked it was night already. Joey was getting undressed as I was in the bathroom shaving. I feel a cold finger trace down my vertebrae givin me the chills. I was a tad bit creeped out but there must be some explanation. After we're all ready we get in bed and fall asleep. Something seemed to almost open my eyelids forcibly around 3:00 AM. A women stands propped up against the bed frame. I want to scream, and wake up Joey, but I seem paralyzed. I finally pull off the slightest of a nudge to joeys arm. He wakes up as the lady moves closer towards me. Joey shoots up and bolts towards the door. Thanks joe that's lovely. The women eventually leaves but she was mumbling something...!, my name! She was mumbling Tim...!! I fall asleep scared and traumatized but I was too tired to care. In the morning I get a phone call. I answer. "hello?" I ask the anonymous caller. "hey Tim it's Joey." Joey says. "um by any chance can you take my stuff, pack it all up, and um put it on the sidewalk outside the house?" "why don't you just come in and get it?" I say. "TIM WE SAW A GHOST, I SLEPT IN A CAR AND CALLED YOU FROM A PAY PHONE! JUST BRING THE STUFF WE ARE MOVING OUT." He yells. "fine." I say. Right as I'm leaving with our stuff a old women stops me. "this place is setting off a odd aura." she says ghastly. "what?" I say confused. What the hell is she saying? "she's swinging." she says pointing at the banister. "their marching." she says pointing at the front room. "She is searching." "Oh ok?" I say fearful. What is this. The town does have civil war history, but does the house? **author note** yes indeed the house does have history, as you read in chapter one. And this is the last chapter since I'm getting freaked writing about it since I went there.**
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