But even we couldn't hide from a satellite, and eventually Pocklebridge appeared on the maps. GPS could find him using his postal codes. People still had no reason to come here, so for a while it didn't really matter. We continued our quiet little activities and everything seemed fine. But word of mouth is a powerful thing, and it spreads faster than most viruses. After all, how many places do you know that not only have a haunted house, but an entire street? Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get the original essay It started with Eiderdown Cottage, the first house on the left on Willow Street. Its elderly owner died, a lovely old thing named Edith Crabtree, and she left her little place to a niece in London. The niece arrived and soon began complaining about nighttime noises, strange lights in the windows and all sorts of disturbances. I can't say any of us were surprised. Then number 3 Willow Street was next, left empty by the death of its owner, gap-toothed old Freda Smacksmith, and again the house was inherited from a cousin from Birmingham. Other disturbances have been reported, including ghostly whisperings over the back fence at midday. Number 12, at the very end of the alley, where the street turns into a scrapyard, was next. This went on for months – the old people died, leaving their homes to long-lost relatives, who soon complained. that things were going badly in the night. Eleven months after Mrs. Crabtree's death at Eiderdown Cottage, everyone in Willow Street was talking about ghosts – even the uncompromising physicist who scoffed at their existence. He quickly changed his mind, I can tell you that. Of course the internet found out, as hell always does. People began visiting Pocklebridge to see the haunted houses, bringing cameras and picnics. Tourists strolled through the gardens, listening to whispered conversations over the fence. #6's family discovered that their resident ghost liked to rearrange the linen closet based on thread count and people started paying fees to come see her. We even brought in TV crews, letting their hysterical hosts run wild in homes with thermometers and infrared. The ghosts stopped being pests and became more like pets, wandering around the house playing with the furniture. The families who moved in began to understand why people didn't want to leave Pocklebridge. That's the problem, you see. No one ever leaves. And let me tell you, we have twenty other homes in the neighborhood with aging occupants. This makes twenty additional houses that will be left in wills and inherited by strangers. Around twenty additional houses are just waiting for new arrivals. Twenty more houses with phantom footsteps, flickering lights and knocks in the walls. Keep in mind: this is just a sample. Get a custom paper now from our expert writers. Get a Personalized Essay This Town… It’s Becoming Like a Ghost Town.