MISTER MYSTERY RESPONDS

Let me ask you a question: Do you snore? First of all, make sure it's not your neighbor who is complaining about your snoring. Once that possibility is ruled out, make sure again. Then grab a chair and place it in the center of the room. Start spinning around it while counting to twenty-two out loud. When you get to twenty-two, hurry up to take a seat. If the chair expels you, that means there is someone sitting on it, probably a ghost. Now focus: you have a ghost sitting in the chair. Sneakily go find a thick rope, pounce on the ghost and tie him to the chair with the rope. If he resists, grab the lamp from the nightstand and hit him on the head. Then call a cab and ask the cabbie to take you to the furthest cemetery. (Don't forget the chair.) Tell the cabbie to wait for you until you leave the cemetery. There, you stand before the chair and pronounce the following spell: "I conjure you, ghost, free yourself from your chains just as I free you from your restraints!" ...

A phantom is scary, whereas a ghost strikes fear. Phantoms sometimes wear a toupee, while ghosts prefer to carry a toaster on the head. Phantoms are staunch enemies of goblins, while ghosts are staunch enemies of elves. (Goblins and elves are staunch enemies of the British Prime Minister, who in turn is staunch enemy of Sir Jonas C. Brubacker's phantom and his political clique.). A phantom can become a ghost under certain conditions (for example, on request of the Pope of Rome or someone called Ignatius). In contrast, a ghost cannot become a phantom under penalty of being forced to wear shorts. (Wearing shorts is a humiliation for both phantoms and ghosts, unless the shorts are yellow in which case it’s still a humiliation for phantoms while for ghosts it’s just a sample of bad taste.) Phantoms and ghosts compete for the same territory, and their way of competing is as follows: The phantom and the ghost face each other and both imitate a baboon. Whoever attracts a female baboon win...

In Chattanooga, by the Tennessee River, stands a three-story wooden building, the Cairo Hotel. This hotel is the most haunted in America. So haunted that not even ghosts dare to inhabit it. Therefore, you might think that the hotel is deserted; but nothing is further from reality. The Cairo Hotel is full of haunted stuff. But haunted stuff of a kind subtler than ghosts, elemental creatures, vampires, werewolves et cetera... Of a kind that made President John Quincy Adams say, when he stayed overnight there after unsuccessfully trying to solve the Muskogee Indians' mess (the Muskogee Indians had drunk all the coffee from the southern states in protest against the Treaty of Indian Springs). He said “Fiddlesticks! How awful, Sweetie!”, and immediately went to invite the Muskogees to spend a night at the hotel. The next morning, the Muskogees agreed to sign a new treaty by which they ceded most of their land to Georgia and gave Adams a bandolier bag.

If you want the portrayed person’s voluntary collaboration, the best technology for taking paranormal photos is Daguerreotype. Ghosts and other paranormal beings (vampires, gnomes, elves, zombies…) are not very supportive of new technologies. They prefer the classic ‘camera obscura’ with extensive use of chemistry to treat the glass-protected plates as well as long exposures which can last up to several years in conditions of total darkness (paranormal beings avoid the light). The best ghost portraits were obtained using this procedure by Scottish photographer Roger Pickman, who in the mid-19th century, toured the Scottish castles offering ghosts the possibility of having a full-length portrait or just the bust. “Ghost with his head under his arm holding a Dundee cake” is his best-known portrait. But it’s also worth highlighting other artistic variations on the same theme, such as "Ghost with Dundee cake on the head", “Ghost with Dundee cake under his arm", "Ghost w...

If you see ghosts, the most recommendable thing is to go cut your hair. The sensitivity of ghosts to human hair is well known. Harriet Darrelson, the famous Victorian ghost, was attracted to men with queue. At that time only men of Chinese origin wore queue. It is believed that this is the reason why Harriet's ghost moved to San Francisco’s Chinatown, where the Chinese men began to suffer a strange setback consisting of the painful sensation that someone was pulling their queue. For his part, Sir William de la More, Bart., a ghost at Chester Castle in Cheshire, England, was upset when he discovered that his new tenant was using a toupee, and did not stop until he was kicked out of the castle. This attraction to natural human hair is believed to stem from the ghosts' hatred towards vegetables, hair being a defining characteristic of mammals.

In my view, the deductive capacity of Sherlock Holmes has no paragon in the history of Criminology. Sometimes it would be said that he possessed psychic powers, and that it was through such powers that he guessed things. And now that I've brought psychic powers up, let me tell you an episode that personally made me put my hair on end. From time to time, Holmes and I used to go for a walk late at night. The streets were calmer and lent themselves more to reflection and relaxed conversation. Well, there was an itinerary we frequented. We left Baker Street, took Marylebone Road, then along Kilburn High Road, to finally reach the Thames as it passed through Chelsea. In the course of this itinerary a curious phenomenon happened every time. When we passed a house that overlooked Paddington Basin, it fell at our feet a roasted hazelnut. Obviously, after experiencing this phenomenon a certain number of times, we were already forewarned and looked up trying to determine where "the gi...

Scottish castles are really scary. Especially because of the low doors. After two days entering and leaving the infinite rooms of Castle Menzies in the Highlands, Holmes and I had got a tremendous headache. Those damn stone lintels! Holmes had the outlandish theory that the Middle Ages were populated by dwarves. However, the ghost we had seen the first night in the castle was of a larger stature, which led Holmes to think that the ghost that harassed Menzies family was not of medieval times; that he might even be a contemporary of ours... and not exactly dead. “And how do you explain that he has no head?” I asked. And then Holmes mentioned the huge amount of aristocrats who ended up guillotined during the French Revolution. I didn't know whether he was teasing me or he believed that all those people had continued to lead a normal life after their heads had been cut off. Sherlock Holmes’ mind was inextricable. By way of background, let me say that Lord Menzies had placed his trust ...

The next day passes without news worthy of mention. Mrs. Schopenhauer proposes some discussion topics (the maximum age that an ant can reach, the most appropriate size of underpants for a poet, the role played by art in artistic creation …) so that the Romantics are entertained until late afternoon and refrain from playing truant. Even so, Wieland disappears for hours and always comes back with his face covered in pollen and muddy shoes. This man's love for Nature is beginning to be a bit burdensome for the group, and Johanna orders Tieck to watch him and keep him away from the wildflowers. At sunset, everyone prepares to search the preserved wing of the castle again. As on the previous occasion, each one is provided with a candlestick, with the exception of Mrs. Walsolz who, according to her, prefers spiritual enlightenment and that's why she wave an Easter palm about. Led by Friedrich Schlegel, the group enters the darkness that reigns in the gloomy corridors and rooms of th...

"A ghost?!", cries Caroline Walsolz, prey to a mixture of astonishment and terror (5% astonishment, 95% terror, to be precise). Wieland has just informed his friends of what happened last night to Schlegel and himself.   And, just as if they were in Mrs. Schopenhauer's salon, a lively debate begins chaired by the very Mrs. Schopenhauer, who let fly: “Maybe it was Goethe's ghost.” “Nonsense! Goethe would never debase himself to be a ghost!” “However (Adele Schopenhauer declares), at the costume party to celebrate the birthday of Schelling, he disguised himself as a ghost.” “That one was Goethe?! (Schlegel jumps wringing his hands) I thought he was a real ghost! He gave me a fright and I gave him a beating! (And putting his hands together looking at the ceiling, he exclaims:) Forgive me, Master! “That’s ridiculous!”, Tieck sentences. "What nonsense are you all saying!", Bettina Brentano bursts out, "Ghosts don’t exist! They are just an inv...

They say that time is a great healer. And it must be true judging by how fast the group of romantic hikers has forgotten the incident occurred just a few hours before. After spending the day sleeping in the camp, they have taken refuge from a night storm in one of the castle’s towers that still stands. Through the arrow slits, they contemplate enraptured that wonderful spectacle of Nature that is an electrical storm accompanied by strong rainfall, wind and fog. Electricity is precisely one of the natural forces with which the Romantics are beginning to flirt. (At the University of Oxford, the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley devotes his free time to electrocuting bats with the hope of turning one of them into a superhero   who he plans to name Batman.) They ignore that, over time, this very force that now lights the night sky, will serve their descendants to illuminate places as dark and gloomy as the semi-ruined castle through which they now wander lighting up their way with candlestick...

Lady Cardbridge is sitting very upright in an armchair in her Catskill residence. It doesn’t seem that the news provided by Michael and Jacob have left her satisfied. "Gentlemen, you promised to evict that ghost from my house. What does it mean that it’s not evictable? " "If I remember correctly, Mrs. Cardbridge, you told us that house was built by one of the first settlers who arrived to New York three centuries ago." "One of my ancestors" "I suggest that house has too many years behind it. Maybe it would be better to tear it down and build a new one in its place " "No way. That house is a familiar memory and not a single object is going to be taken out of it " "And then why do you want to take out the ghost? It should also enter the pack. Maybe it's as old as the house" "Not so old. You mentioned the names of Benjamin and Robert ... " "Do you have any idea who they are?" "Benjamin was th...

The night begins to fall when Michael knock on the door of an old house in Harlem. "Why are you knocking?" Jacob asks. "Well, you never know. Imagine that there is someone inside." And then he proceeds to open the door with the key that the owner of the house, Lady Cardbridge, has given him hours before. Both penetrate the dark and narrow hall. Jacob fires a kerosene lamp, in whose light they move slowly. The interior is also very old, with furniture from past centuries and paintings blackened by the accumulation of soot and dust that permeates the entire house. Suddenly they hear a woman's voice clearly: "Benjamin, is that you?" -You see? There is someone in here. We should have waited until they opened the door. -Ghosts don’t usually open the door when one knocks, Michael. -Mrs. Cardbridge says it's a ghost, but that voice has sounded more like that of a flesh and blood woman. They both climb up some narrow stairs to the top floor. "Benj...

The patient, on the couch. The doctor behind seated in a chair. PATIENT: Sometimes I see dead people DOCTOR: I beg your pardon PATIENT: There's a dead man right here DOCTOR: In this room? PATIENT: He's watching us DOCTOR: Oh, then, do you mean a spirit? PATIENT: Did you think I was referring to a cadaver? Do you hide a corpse, doctor? If so, don’t worry, I haven’t discovered it. DOCTOR: It’s a relief. So you see a dead man. Can you describe it to me? PATIENT: Medium stature. Striped suit. Shell glasses. A great head of hair. Sharp face ... Does it remind you of someone? DOCTOR: Freddy. A former patient. Is here? PATIENT: Not anymore. It is gone DOCTOR: Since when do you see dead people? PATIENT: Since I saw that light in the sky DOCTOR: Go on. Tell me about that light PATIENT: It got into my brain. Since then my life hasn't been the same again. I see dead people, and a rubber ducky DOCTOR: Are you seeing a rubber duck right now? PATIENT: No, not now. But i...

Maybe there is not a profession more useful and at the same time more ungrateful than that of inventor. And I'm going to mention a case that exemplifies it. George W. Newton had patented more than a hundred inventions without any of them having brought him the slightest profit. I will enumerate some. A “gender recogniser”: a self-service machine that at the touch of a button informs you whether you are a man or a woman or a mixture of both (this information can be very useful to obtain a passport or any other identification document). A “direction marker” (a kind of compass that tells you where it is below, above, right and left). The "Governor of the State of Texas", a robot designed specifically to perform this task. Or the “pin dispenser”, an extremely versatile device which could also serve to govern Texas if necessary. All of them, inventions with an advanced technology for its time, but that did not find any investor interested in its commercialization. Ah, but th...

Phil Oldcorne had just taken possession of the house that his Aunt Maggie had left him in inheritance in her will. Aunt Maggie was a sullen woman who disliked people, especially when they were awake. While they slept she could still tolerate them, but awake they became unbearable for her. Hence she had lived isolated in an isolated house in an isolated village in an isolated county of an isolated island. Phil never knew her, even though when he was a child she came home weekly to visit them. But her visits were nocturnal, when everyone in the house was asleep. Maggie's sister (Phil's mother, may she rest in peace) left a key hidden in the garden so that her sister could enter the house. Phil's mother had a kind of sixth sense to know when Aunt Maggie was visiting them, but she always feigned to be asleep. According to her, the aunt lit a candle with which she moved through the various rooms where the family members slept. She stayed with each of them for a while watching th...

When the company I worked for named me manager in our branch office in Memphis, Tennessee, where Elvis Presley lived most of his life, I wasn't very happy about that. Personally I do not like rock and roll, and for me Elvis was the embodiment of that kind of music. After a morning touring the city looking for a house to rent, I was captivated by a small house in the suburbs. When I rushed to rent it, however, I made the mistake of proclaiming to the agent of the real estate agency that I preferred the suburbs because I did not like the omnipresence of Elvis' living memory that I found in the center. I tried to escape from that cult to a dead singer whose music I did not even like. As a good salesman he was, he hid me then that Elvis had resided briefly in that same house when he was still a young unknown musician. At first, everything went well. But one night I was awakened by what I thought was a recording of an Elvis song. I got up angry against the neighbor who at that time...

My dear, a ghost is a lonely being by nature. You will never see a ghost accompanied by another ghost. In fact you will never see a ghost: at least that is the most likely. And the most advisable, I assure you. A ghost is not a pretty thing to see. And I’m not speaking from hearsay! Yes indeed, my dear, I have seen a ghost. In the typical haunted house, you know: those isolated houses on the top of a hill that seem to be built expressly to be inhabited by a ghost. How did I end up there? You will see. I was on my way to Sausalito to attend a cocktail party. But while I combed my hair looking in the rear mirror, my yellow Bentley decided to veer off the highway into a dirt road. I was hoping to find some place where I could manoeuvre to get back on the highway, but the road was so narrow that I had no choice but to follow it until the end. The end turned out to be a lugubrious house with a gabled-roofed tower embedded in the middle. "My god, what a bad taste!" I thought, ...

A man named John Burgess spent the nights in Highgate Cemetery with the hope of contacting some dead person, that is, a lost soul. For that tortuous way he aspired to be admitted as a member in the Society for Psychical Research (SPR). That was his great aspiration in life, but he did not have a qualification that would support him. He had tried to impress them by doing some somersaults, but Gurney was a much better acrobat, besides they did not need any acrobat at all. What they required -he was told- was someone who maintained contact with the dead. So Burgess made that decision to walk at night among the tombs, which for any other would have been unbearable, but not for him. Burgess was not afraid of anything except of his wife Mildred, and that only when she was present. In fact, that was an added reason to spend the nights away from home. He invented an excuse: he told her that he hunted owls and other nocturnal raptors. However, he never brought any wild game, to which he argued ...

When the senior staff of the Society for Psychical Research learned that the city of Savannah in Georgia had the largest number of haunted houses per square kilometer in America, an expedition was organized with that destination. They went to a real estate agent and asked him to rent the most enchanted house of all. The greatest specialist in haunted houses of the SPR was Frederic W. H. Myers, who for a whole year had lived with a ghost in his house in London: the spirit of a woman with an apron, cap and broom who had an obsession for cleanliness. At the end of the year he discovered that she was the cleaning lady that the SPR had provided him without mentioning it. In any case, this misunderstanding had helped him acquire the experience required to coexist with a ghost. The house they rented had a most dismal aspect, consistent with its long history of tragic events that had happened in it, the most recent of which had been the accidental drowning of its previous owner in a washbasin....

Personally I am an avid reader of ghost novels. But the fact that such stories are always located in dreary and gloomy mansions outrage me. The reality is quite different, as demonstrated by the hundreds of files of the Society for Psychical Research. The case that I am going to refer is registered under file number 426 and it happened in the year 1869 in a dreary and gloomy mansion located in the county of Leicestershire. This mansion was inhabited by Lady Louisa Fanshow, a dreary and gloomy woman who many visitors confused with the ghost. Because the mansion housed a dreary and gloomy ghost, you know? (This is another of the topics that outrage me: the SPR files show that many ghosts are nice and lively.) According to most testimonies, this ghost wore a three-cornered hat and dragged chains (or continuously hit a pan with a ladle, according to some). The people of the county bind together the ghost’s existence and a gruesome episode that took place in the mansion many years ago. App...