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In London, if you were to ask anyone with at least some fascination about the paranormal what the most haunted house was, they would probably direct you to a lonely block. This lonely block, in question, is named 50 Berkeley Square. Considered to be the “Most Haunted House in London”, 50 Berkeley Square had quite the fair share of paranormal phenomenon happen in its foundation.
The first sightings of ghosts usually described a young woman, completely pale in color. It is unknown how many times the apparition was sighted, but the newspapers reported that she was sighted at least 50 times. These newspapers in question dated back to 1789.
She would be normally seen sitting at a windowsill, and if you were to walk up to her, she would let out a bloodcurdling scream, and hurl herself out the window, disappearing before your very eyes. You would look out the window, but there would be no trace of her anywhere. No blood, no prints, just the air.
They say that this woman was named Adeline, and she had jumped out the window in order to escape her abusive uncle.
Jump to the early 1840’s, here we have our first “victim.” After his barroom mates had disagreed with what he had claimed, they challenged the noble. With one hearty swing, Robert Warboys leaped up in the air, with a bottle of Ale in his hand, and said “I wholeheartedly accept your preposterous harebrained challenge!” Everyone stared at him. It was a crazy idea. Nobody knew what was up there, nonetheless whatever it could do. After a heated argument later, the landlord had reluctantly agreed to allow Warboys to stay up in the attic for one night. Though the landlord had one request. He had told him to set up a bell and a cord, which would ring it if “anything out of the ordinary” came through the door.
Warboys was woken up by a sudden ringing of the bell. With slimy, slapping sounds muffling his screams, Warboys shot his pistol. After it was done, the thing’s eyes gleamed as it gazed hungrily into Warboys’ eyes. It quickly dissipated into the night.
The landlord, after hearing the gunshot from the attic, ran with a gun in hand, and barged through the door. He lit the candle Warboys was armed with, and found him, pale as snow, lip curled up, and bloodshot eyes. He had seemed to have died of shock
Jump to the year 1872, whereas aristocrat and politician George Lyttelton had placed a bet to stay in the house’s attic for one night. He had set up a bed in the nearby corner, and had also taken a shotgun with him. Though Lyttelton had no such belief in the paranormal or superstition, he had just taken it for “good measure.”
A gunshot was clear in the night. Something had disturbed Lyttelton. When questioned, he claimed that some sort of mass had writhed from the ceiling and had plopped to the ground as soon as he shot it and disappeared. He also said that the upper rooms were “supernaturally fatal to the mind and body.
Some stories say that it happened a year after, or at least seven years later, but a family soon moved into the block. The daughter of the family in question was due for her fiancée to visit, so in order to accommodate the guest, the father had asked the family maid to set the guest room up in the attic. Without hesitance, the maid entered the attic and began to work.
She died later in the mental asylum. She was found in the corner of the room, screaming “Do not let it touch me!”
Our last, and most titular story would take place on an unknown, or undecided date. The most prevalent date would be in 1887. Two sailors, Robert Martin and Edward Blunden, had just gotten drunk and needed somewhere to stay awhile before their sobriety went out the window. Somehow, they had gotten into the block, and was also vacant. Instead of just sleeping on the first floor, they made the grave mistake of entering the attic. Here, this is where things get peculiar.
Blunden nudged Martin, and repeatedly said that he had felt that there was something up with the attic, and had felt very anxious. Though not as sober as him, Blunden just told him that it was just from being drunk, and dismissed the presence. In some cases, Blunden set up a piece of wood, or a rifle to prop up the nearby window, and they proceeded to get some rest.
What happened that night would forever change Martin’s life.
At around midnight, Martin awoke to the sound of slimy, wet plopping at the door. He watched as a wet puddle engulfed the floor. slowly, the door creaked open. Upon seeing this unfold, Martin woke Blunden up, who, after hearing the door creak, jumped up. The door then was swung open, and the creature grumbled at the sailors. Blunden, knowing the time was now, ran to the gun, only to slip up and become enveloped in the creature’s arm.
Blunden struggled against the creature’s grip. Martin knew that he needed to save him. He looked around to find a weapon. There, holding up the window, the weapon. He quickly snatched the weapon and attacked creature’s arm. Even after multiple, vain attempts, it wouldn’t budge. The sailor’s friend yelped in panic before being dragged towards the creature, or whatever the hell it was. Knowing that it was hopeless for his friend, and would be hopeless for him if he didn’t escape, Martin quickly trailed down the steps. The sailor’s wails filled the entire square as he ran to get the police.
It is unknown how, but Blunden was found dead. Some stories say he was found in the basement in the same condition as Warboys’, Some say he had broke his neck while attempting to escape, or rather, impaled on the front fence of the property.
Its been a while, hasn’t it?
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