Please. Just run.

I am not a credulous man. 

Yes, I believe in spirits & ghosts. OK so I believe in gods too. And I won’t do anything 13 times, opting instead for 12 or 14. I believe that hallucinations & dreams are actually real. I believe Stevie Wonder is or isn’t blind. I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky. But I have never believed the universe would give me a game show to present if I asked it to. 

I hope I have convinced you that I’m not some open-minded, gullible madman. Because it is vital you believe that what happens next is true, every word of it.

When I walked down the stairs of that all you can eat Indian Buffet I never expected to see a dead body.

The blow was softened somewhat when I realised it was not a human corpse, merely that of a deceased hand dryer. I breathed a sigh of relief until my eyes adjusted to the eerie gloom and I saw the awful truth:

This airy cadaver was still functioning. By what power I did not know and by God I wish I had turned tail and ran for my life. But that eternal flaw curiosity bit me and wouldn’t let me go.

My gaze fixed on the wall & I shivered. My hands trembled even as I struggled to fully comprehend the awfulness of the vision before me.

A hand dryer.

Powered by trapped human souls.

The walls teemed with ghosts, trapped in perpetual torment. Swirling in a collective anguish, wailing silent screams.

Snared no doubt by some satanic ritual involving mango chutney & lentils.

I tried to look away.

I screamed.

I collapsed.

24 hours later I awoke at home, in my bed. “It’s ok darling,” said my wife, who is also my cousin (relax, I’m in the aristocracy), “You’ve just been having a nightmare.”

“Of course,” I said to myself, smiling, “Just a nightmare. Thank God for that.”

And then I looked at my hands.

Wrinkles & bruises covered them. My skin was translucent & frail. And as I stared in horror what little flesh remained melted away leaving just bone. 

I looked up.

But this was no longer my bedroom.

And I could not move.

And I realised.

I too had been trapped.

Please.

Do not suffer my fate. If you go into the toilets beneath a vegetarian all you can eat buffet and you see a dead dryer which still breathes and still roars. Run.

Run for your life.

It’s too late for me now.

And please.

If you see a bearded TV presenter and he tells you "We don't want to see the £250, 000"

Run.

Run for your life.