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Again, does it really matter if this is a true story or not? (Highly doubtful that it is.) But, who cares? Arnie spins a damn good yarn! Come on, Arnie, give us the next installment.

Trevor: The gay area is in the Lakeview neighborhood - approximately Halsted Street & Belmont Avenue. Log onto www.chicago-bed-breakfast.com or call 773-394-2000 for any B&B's in the Lakeview area. Have fun - hopefully, you are planning on being here for the Gay Pride Parade on June 30th.

OOOOPPPPSSSS - sorry, posted under the wrong header!

ARNIEEEEEEEEE----we can't wait anymore, we need to hear the rest of the story!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok everybody, What is this ttt, Topping and to the top mean? Maybe a dumb question to some of you, but I am new to this. Thanks. PS: Arnie we are waiting!!!!

Curious: just means "to the top" - brings the thread to the top 50 if it has slipped beyond - makes it easier for someone to see and post, if they so desire.

Oh no.. I got wrapped up in this. Anyone out there think Arnie IS a Ghost... a tech-happy ghost who is all leading us on..in some devilish plot to lure us into visiting Portland Maine???? lol

Ok. I had a friend of mine who works at the NY Public Library research this and she came up with ..... NOTHING! This place DOES NOT exist.

Thanks Michelle. That's what I've been trying to day all along, but No Doubting, Natalie, Boo, Tam and a few others seem to be buying it. Oh well, as P.T.Barnum said, there's one born every minute.

Thyra: I thought the same thing - Arnie is a ghost!!!! Katerina: No..I posted that I DO doubt this is a true story - but who cares????

annrice- shelly originally posted this over 2 years ago, it was a poster named maria that brought it back up. I can not believe that I have let myself become so engrossed in this. Even if it is made up, Arnie is a good story teller. Arnie you should think about writing short stories, of course you might never have the chance if you don't finish this story soon.

Come on, Arnie - it's time for milk, cookies, my blankie and story-time!!! And it's raining & gloomy here in Chicago - a perfect setting.

Heard the phrase 'serious acne' at work. I thought 'where have I heard that lately'. Hmm, then realized Syrus Aeckney. Just sounds similar? Oh well. Come on Arnie, let's hear the story.

Here is the next installment, only two more to go! Lisa was terrified. She looked at the man—now fully immersed in the glowing light from the lamp—and saw that he was swathed in blood. Her eyes dropped down to his hands resting at his side, and she noticed the long wooden handle of some sort of tool extending upward through his loosely clasped left hand. Because the light only radiated in a fairly small circle around the lamp, Lisa couldn’t see the head of the tool resting on the floor. “An axe,” she thought “or perhaps a scythe.” Of course all of the above took place in less than two seconds. Lisa felt her heart pounding like a freight train and yet she didn’t move. She stood there, staring in horror at the stranger’s unwelcoming visage and didn’t move a muscle. Likewise, he stood there bathed in the glow of the lamp--staring, not at her, but through her. Knowing she had to get out of there, Lisa began to back up—slowly—toward the doorway. As she took her first tentative step back, the blood-soaked stranger took a matching step toward her. “Oh my God!,” she thought, “He SEES me!” Not sure if she was right or it was just a coincidence, Lisa took another step back; the stranger matched her. Believing she had no other choice, Lisa took a third step back—and felt her heel and back thump against the wall: somehow, she had misjudged where the doorway was. The second Lisa’s back hit the wall, she let out a shriek; the moment the shriek left her lips, the stranger’s eyes found her. For the first time since Lisa had encountered him, the stranger was looking right at her. At first he looked surprised—almost as if she had appeared out of nowhere. Then, as his eyes focused on her, the look of surprise was replaced by a look of anger, and then the anger replaced by mad glee. As the man continued to stare at her a slow grin crept across his face. The look of his horrifying rictus was more then enough to rid her of her temporary paralysis. Lisa turned 180 degrees to where she knew the doorway must be and bolted for it: She slammed into the wall—head first—and fell back on her ass. Stunned by the blow to her head, she slowly got to her knees and turned to see where the stranger was. Fortunately, he hadn’t moved--except to turn his body so that he still faced her dead on. Lisa stood up, refusing to take her eyes off him. Once again she backed to the wall and felt for the doorway but with no luck. Somehow, she must have lost her bearings when she fell down. With her head clearing a bit and her back against the wall, Lisa began edging her way along, feeling for the doorway with her hands behind her. As she moved, the man‘s gaze followed her progress, the grin never leaving his face. All of a sudden she realized the section of wall she was sidling along had brought her within about three feet of the silent stranger. Lisa stopped. The man’s left hand began slowly rising forward from his side—directly toward her. She could plainly see the worn and cracked wooden handle as it rose through the light of the lamp. Forward and upward it ascended until, finally, Lisa could see what kind of tool he had: It was a pickaxe. And it was covered in blood.

Here is the next installment, only two more to go! "Lisa was terrified. She looked at the man—now fully immersed in the glowing light from the lamp—and saw that he was swathed in blood. Her eyes dropped down to his hands resting at his side, and she noticed the long wooden handle of some sort of tool extending upward through his loosely clasped left hand. Because the light only radiated in a fairly small circle around the lamp, Lisa couldn’t see the head of the tool resting on the floor. “An axe,” she thought “or perhaps a scythe.” Of course all of the above took place in less than two seconds. Lisa felt her heart pounding like a freight train and yet she didn’t move. She stood there, staring in horror at the stranger’s unwelcoming visage and didn’t move a muscle. Likewise, he stood there bathed in the glow of the lamp--staring, not at her, but through her. Knowing she had to get out of there, Lisa began to back up—slowly—toward the doorway. As she took her first tentative step back, the blood-soaked stranger took a matching step toward her. “Oh my God!,” she thought, “He SEES me!” Not sure if she was right or it was just a coincidence, Lisa took another step back; the stranger matched her. Believing she had no other choice, Lisa took a third step back—and felt her heel and back thump against the wall: somehow, she had misjudged where the doorway was. The second Lisa’s back hit the wall, she let out a shriek; the moment the shriek left her lips, the stranger’s eyes found her. For the first time since Lisa had encountered him, the stranger was looking right at her. At first he looked surprised—almost as if she had appeared out of nowhere. Then, as his eyes focused on her, the look of surprise was replaced by a look of anger, and then the anger replaced by mad glee. As the man continued to stare at her a slow grin crept across his face. The look of his horrifying rictus was more then enough to rid her of her temporary paralysis. Lisa turned 180 degrees to where she knew the doorway must be and bolted for it: She slammed into the wall—head first—and fell back on her ass. Stunned by the blow to her head, she slowly got to her knees and turned to see where the stranger was. Fortunately, he hadn’t moved--except to turn his body so that he still faced her dead on. Lisa stood up, refusing to take her eyes off him. Once again she backed to the wall and felt for the doorway but with no luck. Somehow, she must have lost her bearings when she fell down. With her head clearing a bit and her back against the wall, Lisa began edging her way along, feeling for the doorway with her hands behind her. As she moved, the man‘s gaze followed her progress, the grin never leaving his face. All of a sudden she realized the section of wall she was sidling along had brought her within about three feet of the silent stranger. Lisa stopped. The man’s left hand began slowly rising forward from his side—directly toward her. She could plainly see the worn and cracked wooden handle as it rose through the light of the lamp. Forward and upward it ascended until, finally, Lisa could see what kind of tool he had: It was a pickaxe. And it was covered in blood."

Two more installments! Anie, you are cruel

Now the question is...Is Arnie telling us a story he made up or one that someone else made up and he is merly copying? Good story nonetheless but this is getting annoying!Better have a good ending! I used to work graveyards (by myself) at The General Palmer Hotel in Durango, CO. General Plamer built the hotel back in the 1898 (he also built some railroads which is what took him to Durango I think). The hotel was victorian and just scary to be in by yourself at night. I think I just had an overactive imagination but I did hear that people had seen/heard/felt ghosts at the Strater Hotel(another Victorian built around the same time) just down the block.

I don't believe in ghosts, but this is very entertaining...can't wait for the rest.