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I guess it was the summer of 1990...it was a Friday night about 9pm. I was out in a local bar
in my home town of Windsor in the UK, with three close mates having a few drinks. The bar
was called "Crosses Corner" they changed the name; it was called "The Hope"). I'm
standing there with one mate in front of me, and the other two on either side of me; my back
towards the only door into the pub (with my left hand holding my pint and my right hand down
by my side). We were just talking when I felt my right hand squeezed by a cold hand. I
turned around, expecting to see someone I knew -- no one there! I turned back to my mates
who were still talking, and knew it wasn't any of them. With that, the hairs on the back of my
neck stood up; I shivered; and had the weirdest feeling like I was being watched, and was
quite scared. With that, I put my drink down and walked out of the pub. A mate came out
and asked me what was wrong, and said I looked like I'd seen a ghost. Well, I felt one -- I'm
sure of it. A few years later, I got friendly with a girl and she told me her parents ran the pub
when it was called "The Hope." She told me it was haunted by a man she had seen a few
times when she lived above the pub. It still makes me shiver thinking about it, and I swear I
felt that ice cold hand squeeze my hand.
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