Tag Archives: ghost stories

The Thai-light Zone – Episode 4

Hope yesterday’s frightfest didn’t have you running for  your mummy! Sorry, the depravity of the past few days of stories has left my sense of humour shrivelled up to a husk. A tiny zombie husk. It just limps around in my skull, moaning and occasionally banging into walls, not unlike the students responsible for the entertainment we’re currently enjoying.

Tonight’s treat is served up by Jane, who has  opted for the more traditional ghost story, albeit one with a curiously enigmatic ending. Hang onto your hats ny friends, it’s going to be a bumpy ride as we ascend…

The Ghost Mountain

Once upon a time there was a boy. The boy had a house behind the mountain. It was a bold mountain. He lived with his brother. He never knowed about this mountain. But his brother knowed everything about this. He asked his brother about ghost mountain.

This mountain had a boy died inside. Because the rock fall out of the mountain when he got some vegetables and got some animals. He died to supress. And body was separated.

The body was separated. So he died to scare the people for to know separately. And He approach to scare verey day.


Wow. That poor boy, all alone up the mountain. He  must have had a cold or something to have been unable to smell what The Rock was cooking. All he wanted was some food but instead he died – to supress! But to supress what, dear reader? Perhaps we’ll never know.

And that’s only one of the mysteries of ghost mountain. He also died ‘to scare the people to know separately’, indicating some psychotic, Pol Pot-like fear of collective knowledge, possibly induced by traumatic experiences in the hereafter. I could puzzle over this one sentence for days, nay weeks. And what of the capitalised ‘He’ in the final sentence – could it be that God himself has joined this wretched child in his reign of terror?

Okay, I’ll stop here – there’s already enough to keep you up till the small hours, poring over your books of philosophy and straining to glean some inside into the warped machinations of Jane’s brain. It’s certainly been enough for me to cast doubt on all that I thought I knew, all those fundamental assumptions and axioms I held dear.

But for now it’s farewell until next time. I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope, for our final descent into the well of woes that is…