This week, I’m dragging you kicking and screaming to Victorian England for the tale of the Veiled Apparition of Cheltenham: a bitchin’ widow who floats through fancy-ass houses with all the subtlety of a silent fart in a church.Seventeen people saw this ghost, and none of them got the “boo!” they were hoping for. No flying shit, no screams—just slow, creepy vibes and a whole lot of “fuck off” energy wrapped in mourning clothes. If you want your hauntings loud and violent, look elsewhere—this one’s for the weirdos who like their ghosts like their tea: cold, bitter, and served with a side of mystery.So pour a stiff drink, hold onto your monocle, and get ready for a haunting that’s as polite as it is unsettling. Because sometimes, the quietest ghosts leave the biggest mess.
This week, I’m dragging you kicking and screaming to Victorian England for the tale of the Veiled Apparition of Cheltenham: a bitchin’ widow who floats through fancy-ass houses with all the subtlety of a silent fart in a church.Seventeen people saw this ghost, and none of them got the “boo!” they were hoping for. No flying shit, no screams—just slow, creepy vibes and a whole lot of “fuck off” energy wrapped in mourning clothes. If you want your hauntings loud and violent, look elsewhere—this one...