ALT A pink and white striped cloth sticking out of a packet with "Ultra Absorbent Cloth" written on it, hanging on a shelf amidst other cleaning products.

ALT Computer screen pop-up endless loop

ALT At Béthune, I saw the ghost of a man named Private Challoner, who had been at Lancaster with me, and again in 'F' Company at Wrexham. When he went out with a draft to join the First Battalion, he shook my hand and said: 'I'll meet you again in France, sir.' In June he passed by our 'C' Company billet, where we were just having a special dinner to celebrate our safe return from Cuinchy - new potatoes, fish, green peas, asparagus, mutton chops, strawberries and cream, and three bottles of Pommard. Private Challoner looked in at the window, saluted, and passed on. I could not mistake him, or the cap-badge he wore; yet no Royal Welch battalion was billeted within miles of Béthune at the time. I jumped up, looked out of the window, and saw nothing except a fag-end smoking on the pavement. Challoner had been killed at Festubert in May.

ALT My platoon commander, 2nd Lieut. Jackson, who was passing at the time, heard it and smiled at me, and as he smiled I saw Death looking at me out of his eyes, and I knew that his number was up. I can't describe what I saw. It was just Death, and it made me afraid in a ghastly, shuddering way which was foreign to my present way of being afraid. The momentary transfiguration was just as unpleasant as if his features had melted into the bones of a death's head. He was killed in the first few minutes of the attack.

ALT A blackboard of events, with dates of the ghost stories in the tweet