Unforgettable

Supernatural Stories | Aug 8, 2012 | 12 min read
48 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
My name is Grant Cyfer, though after this evening my friends would call me Loo …… Loo Cyfer. I'm not a snappy or stylish dresser, more often than not you will find me in a baggy pair of jeans and an assortment of T Shirts either featuring my favorite bands (Metallica, Slayer, Kreator, Tyr, Bathory, the list is endless and I'm sure you know them all, not) and a pair of trainers that have seen better days.
I've got hair longer than tidy, which doesn't seem to know what color it is, it used to be a kind of strawberry blond, but it seems determined to be grey. I'd like to put that down to a hard life, but I haven't had more knocks or stress than your average Joe, quite the opposite and I'm only 33 and not many would guess that either
(Probably putting me younger, especially if I wore a baseball hat to cover the hair).

Am I successful, depends on what your measure of success is, if your measure is married with kids, good job, big house, nice car, nice holiday's and generally making the Jones's jealous, then maybe not. I do live in a big house, it's my mum and dad's, which I am in no hurry to leave, I have a nice car, well I like it, most don't, I have a good job, it doesn't pay well but I like it, I'm not married with kids as I'm saving myself for Mrs Right, who seems to be having trouble finding me, a lot of Mrs wrongs have found me, which wasn't as bad as it sounds, on occasions very interesting.

Back to my story, I sat with tears in the corners of my eyes, burning red cheeks, a strained grimace on my face and trousers round my ankles (it wouldn't be the only time that my jeans would be round my ankles either and it's not as promising as it sounds), in a disgusting toilet in an old pub we had stopped in on the way back from the beach.

It had been a good day out so far, the weather had been fair for early summer, not too hot, fairly clear skies and no sign of any rain, which was unusual as rain is the typical British summer. Apart from a little sun bathing (not too good to see me stripped to the waist, so I kept it limited), the day was spent playing on arcade games, eating burgers and hot dogs, Crazy Golf (which when I play is more like utterly ridiculous Golf), eating Doughnuts and Candy Floss and then shake it all up on roller coasters and Dodgems……..Bloody Marvelous fun.

I had been considering ordering food before I came into the toilet, but as quite often is the case; the hygiene in the toilets is not a country mile from the hygiene in the kitchen, so I decided I would be giving it a miss.

I sat straining as I had now been for a couple of minutes, on what must have been a monster turd, which seemed to have the temperament of a Green Peace supporter chained to a tree, that just wouldn't be moved, (there was still at least a two and a half hour journey on the coach and I didn't fancy getting caught short and having to squirm in my seat, with my ares cheeks squeezed tighter than a gnats chuff, while the driver decided if he would pull over so I could crap behind a tree) when suddenly the toilet light flickered briefly for the first time, causing me to call out

"Hello, who's there? "

No reply, I gave another push and wondered how many piles were planning to pop up to mark this occasion as I read on the toilet door about how cheap Mary was if you fancied a shag and that Tommy had a little dick while Lee was a poof that loved giving head.
It would seem a lot of people are armed with a pen when they go to the toilet, some are especially well prepared with permanent markers. Judging by some of the bizarre writing on the door, they must have sniffed the marker pen first.
The constant in most of the writing is about blow jobs, accusations of Homosexuality, cheap sex and football teams. Wouldn't it be nice to sit on the throne and read fine poetry, a murder mystery perhaps or even a thriller? Again the light flickered this time for about three seconds.

"Who's there, is that you Rob, stop fucking around with the lights"

No response, but then the air turned cold, causing my breath to vaporize. I turned my head towards the window above and behind me, to see if it was open, but it wasn't. The cold seemed like a gentle but constant breeze blowing on and almost through me, causing me to shiver.
The light flickered a third time and then went off. What with my awkward turd, the freezing cold and some idiot pissing about with the lights I lost my temper and shouted

"Shut that fucking door, turn on the light and then piss off you fucking idiot"

The light suddenly flicked on and before I could say thank you very much now piss off, the face of an old man came through the toilet door and looked down at me.
Now when I say the old mans face came through the door, I don't mean the door opened and he popped his head in, I mean his head came through the solid wooden door, right between Tommy's little dick and Man Utd Rool (maybe there should be a dictionary in toilets to help the budding writers).
I shrank back into the toilet seat with fright and shock as the grey haired, bearded old man stared down at me, he was clearly annoyed and shuffled forward a little, revealing more of his slender hunched shoulders covered by a tatty black dressing gown, that had a thick collar almost like a coat. He raised his right hand to his sneering mouth, holding a bony finger in front of his lips and said

"Shush, be quiet in here"

The next thing I heard as the old man withdrew from the solid toilet door was a lot of splashing and a sound that resembled a balloon rapidly deflating as the turd found the motivation it was looking for.

I've absolutely no idea how long it took me to come to my senses (if you can call it that), while I tried to figure out what had just happened and you guessed it, no luck with that. A voice suddenly broke the silence "Jesus Christ did I just see a ghost", which I soon realized was my own.
So then back to the fact that I was still on a toilet and maybe the coach would be leaving soon, as I had no idea how long I had been in here (god I hope it hasn't gone already, my friend's warped sense of humor goes way beyond the ability to leave me stranded).
Brought crashing back to reality with the fear of missing the bus and being stuck in this God forsaken pub, I rapidly rubbed between my butt cheeks with the squares of old newspaper that were hanging from string on the toilet wall (looking at which newspapers they were originally from, it would be fair to say there was probably more shit already on them, before I used them) and stood pulling my jeans up in one swift movement.

Having yanked the rusty lever to flush the toilet, I reached eagerly for the handle of the aluminum barrel bolt on the toilet door, swiftly pulled it to the left and shouted "Fuck It" with venom, as I looked at the small piece of aluminum in my finger tips that had just snapped off, leaving me stuck in the toilet. The door was solid with no gaps at the top or bottom to try and squeeze through and being a single toilet there were no escapes to the side either.

With visions of the coach pulling off, with my laughing friend waving out the window, playing over and over in my mind I tried several ways of pulling the bolt back so I could open the door. A couple of coins (a fifty pence piece and a two pence piece) didn't work, I tried to get my finger nail in, but ended up cutting my finger tip, a couple of swift kicks bruised my toe but at least released a bit of rage, still the door remained firm. All was not lost however; I could climb out the window, which looked just big enough to squeeze through.

I stepped up onto the toilet seat, and found a large collection of dead insects and cigarette buts on the window ledge and stuff I don't even want to begin to describe, let alone climb over. I unlatched the window and opened it, which I could push out and up, I then stepped up onto the cistern, whilst putting my arms through the window in a kind of diving motion, once my arms and upper body were out, I reached my hands back onto the window sill and levered my upper body out, so far so good. The little protruding bit of metal that you fasten the window handle to was pushing into my generous belly, but what the hell; I'll be out in a jiffy.
Pulling my stomach in (most of it anyway) I levered my upper body forward and felt a pull on the waist of my jeans as they caught the protruding window fastener. I was stuck staring into pitch black below with my legs dangling in the air, so I tried wriggling from side to side, but I couldn't free my jeans. I thought I would try to bounce up as I pushed further forward that should do it.
Well I went flying forward into the darkness with the big heave ho, but my jeans didn't go with me. Having loose fitting jeans meant they slipped off me as I fell forward and were turned inside out and left dangling from my ankles as I fell. I was not aware of this or the bang as the window closed again, for some time, as I had been knocked out by the pile of bricks beneath the window that the back of my head found as I fell.

I will later realize when looking back at tonight's adventures that I was out for over three hours. The rain beating down on my sopping wet body brought me around. It took a while for me to realize where I was and that I had my jeans around my ankles and to remember how I got to be in this unenviable predicament.
I knew a lot of time must have passed because the toilet light was off (Unless that Ghost was still around), which meant the coach had long gone and I was stranded in the middle of nowhere, on a rainy night, at a haunted pub, with my jeans round my ankles, soaking wet through and a lump throbbing on the back of my head, well It doesn't get much better than this does it, do I know how to party or what.

Having managed to drag my sopping wet jeans to my thighs, I gingerly stood up and proceeded to pull them all the way up, which was more difficult than it should have been, as it felt like they were covered in Super glue and clung to whatever they could grip on the way up.

My eyes were gradually adjusting to the darkness to the point I could make out the outline of the pub, maybe a few more carrots in the future could improve things a little. My best bet would be to head to the front of the pub, in the faint hope that they might still be open or at least someone might be in to offer some assistance, dry clothes and a Tea or Coffee, warm open fire, dream on.

It was very slippery, the mud was squelching under my feet louder than the squelching of my soaked training shoes. I slipped over as I turned the corner; my right foot went away from under me like a porche. I tried to grip the wall of the pub to regain my balance, but ended up grazing my hand, as I went crashing to the ground, just great.
I've often watched the comedies where a guy keeps slipping over, which has audiences in stitches; I never dreamed I would one day be the star, I could almost hear the accompanying piano music.

Moonlight burst through the cloudy night sky and bathed me in an almost mystical glow. I was Feeling completely and utterly sorry for myself as I reached the small beer garden at the front of the pub and was quite startled to hear.

"That's a different look"

The front of the beer garden was in the shadows of the moonlight and was barely lit by a small light above the front door; I could just make out the shape of a man sitting at the table just in front of the window.

"I call it the soaking wet, stuck in a toilet, fell out the window and slipped on my arse, crap luck look"

"I don't think it will catch on"

"You and me both", I walked towards the chap with the sense of humor and noted the pub must have been closed as the door was closed and there were no lights on inside.

"There are no cars in the car park, how did you get here" he asked me

As I sat down at the table he was at, I recounted my whole sorry tale to date and although initially irritated by his chuckles and laughter, it drove me to put on the sort of performance that Shakespeare would have been proud of.

"That's me" I finished with "What about you"

"I'm in the doghouse, my girlfriend runs this pub and I help her, she's my ride here and my ride home, I'm hoping she'll cool off and come back for me, it has been a while though so I'm not too hopeful.

"Does that phone work", I pointed to a small payphone outside the pub.

"Yep, it takes coins; it's not one of those irritating card phones that no one can use"

"I hope there is a taxi service running" I said as I stood and began to walk to the pay phone

"There is, but they may take a while to get here"

"I don't mind that, I just want to get on my way home, although it won't be cheap……. Did you want me to get a cab for you?"

"No thanks, I'll just hang on here, I'm sure she will be back"

I let out a sigh of relief as the ring tone purred in my ear, the dim light in the door way just illuminated a phone number on a card pinned by the phone. I dialed the number and bit my lip nervously as the phone rang longer than I felt comfortable with and nearly cheered out loud when a male voice drowsily answered, "Baxter cabs".

"Hi, I need a cab urgently" I blurted out, followed by the departure and destination details. The tired man advised that a cab would be sent, but due to shift swap and driver shortage it could be over an hour, which I willingly agreed to, anything to get on my way.

"You got one coming then" the stranger asked

"Yeah, could be over an hour though" I replied as I sat down at his table again

Amazingly the stranger was good company and time flew by though it was never an hour, not even half that when the headlights appeared.

I again offered the stranger a lift in the cab but he insisted his girlfriend would eventually come back for him. It was a relief climbing into the back seat, it wasn't the classiest of cars, but it felt like a Rolls Royce to me.

I wound down the window and called out a last goodbye but heard no reply, I couldn't see him either as the outside of the pub was again engulfed in darkness.

"I suppose you were here trying to see the ghost were you" asked the cab driver, I must admit it took me by surprise and it was a moment before I answered.

"I wasn't here to see the ghost, but I did see him and it scared the crap out of me" I couldn't resist smirking at my clever response, though I couldn't be bothered to explain

"You saw him then, shame really he was a lovely young guy"

"Young guy, he looked like a haggard Scrooge to me, I would have put him well over sixty"

"No he was a young guy" responded the driver, "loads of people have seen him, always near the car park"

"No" I began; I wasn't sure what the driver meant "I saw him in the toilet, while I was having a dump to be exact"

"Well that would be a first" replied the driver, "all the stories I've heard and there has been a few, are that the ghost is seen in the car park or the front of the pub where he was killed"

I could feel the beginnings of goose bumps popping up as the driver continued

"He was a barman, boyfriend of the woman that owned the pub; he was a bit of a Romeo, slept around a bit until his girlfriend found out"

I felt my jaw drop as he finished his sentence

"She stormed off and left him the night she found out, but came back after he'd closed up and ran him over in the car park, killed him stone dead"

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Reviews

Velma golden Aug 9, 2012

I also think this story was a exceptional read, but who was the old man ghost. Must be a story there too. I have not seen your other story yet,but know from this one gotta be very good. Am looking forward to reading more from you, keep us entertained, you

Steven Drake Aug 10, 2012

Thankyou for the comments Velma and please read "Second Insight" if you get the chance. Grant, (loo) Cypher will be back in my next story "Bear Shirt" which follows on from "Unforgettable" :) have a great weekend

Alexandria Aug 8, 2012

This is a great story. I have no business in the men's room, but I felt like I was trapped in there with Grant. The description of scenery throughout the story made it very vivid. The only thing I am confused about is the ghost in the bathroom. I would lo

Steven Drake Aug 8, 2012

Thanks Alexandria, I have another story "Second Insight" on Short n Scary stories please read and tell me what you think. Grant is a main character in my next story "Bear Shirt" which I hope to release soon :)

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