NAMELESS THING OF BERKELEY SQUARE

Considered by most paranormal experts to fit more accurately into the realm of hauntings, the Nameless Thing of Berkeley Square has left behind tantalizing shreds of evidence - and more than one corpse - which suggests that the "ghost" which inhabits a room on the 4th floor in what has been referred to as "the most haunted house in London," may not really be a case of spiritual infestation at all, but rather a predatorial, cryptid phenomenon.

Accounts of the Thing date as far back as the early 1840's, though no one is exactly sure when the first confirmed sighting was. The creature has been described as an amorphous being, formless and slimy, which emits a "gruesome sloppy noise" when it moves. While accounts conflict regarding the actual shape and size of the beast, at least one eyewitness has included tentacles in his description of the creature, likening the beast to a small, viciously deformed octopus, which pulls itself across the floor, leaving a viscous trail in its wake. This description has led some researchers to speculate that the Thing may actually be some kind of FRESHWATER OCTOPI or amphibious, marine animal that managed to migrate from the Thames into London's subterranean sewer system, where it was able to infiltrate the Berkeley Square home via the plumbing.

There can be no doubt that 50 Berkeley Square can boast a horrific array of paranormal encounters (ranging from strange sounds reported by neighbors to the confirmed deaths of guests and domestic servants), but there is one confrontation which has become the benchmark of this legend. Although the details of this narrative have varied in minor degrees from one retelling to another, the core of the account has always remained the same:

In 1943, two sailors from Portsmouth, Robert Martin and Edward Blunden, after having squandered their lodging funds on an evening of drunken ribaldry, broke into the then abandoned Berkeley Square home in search of a night's rest. Discovering that the lower levels of the house were uncomfortably damp, the sailors migrated upwards, finally settling down in the now infamous room.

Blunden, presumably the more sober of the two, expressed the anxiety he felt upon entering the room, but these fears were promptly dismissed by his shipmate, who used his rifle to prop open a window to allow for a breeze. It wasn't long before the two men were huddled on the floor, fast asleep.

Sometime after midnight Blunden awoke to see the door to the room creaking open. Little by little a sliver of dim, grayish light crept across the wooden floor. Too terrified to move, Blunden managed to wake his accomplice. The two men sat up as they heard a strange, moist, scraping sound slowly approach them. Later, Martin claimed that it sounded as if something were dragging itself across the floor.

Suddenly, the terrified men leapt to their feet and came face to face with the abhorrent visage of what could only describe as a hideous monstrosity. The creature undulated between the sailors and what was their only hope for escape; the open door. Then, just as the trembling Blunden began to reach toward the rifle - which was still wedged in the window frame - the creature suddenly lunged forward, wrapping itself around the young sailor's throat.

Seizing the opportunity, the panic stricken Martin ran from the house, screaming for help. Soon enough he stumbled upon a patrolling police officer. Although skeptical of the young sailor's frenzied tale (and no doubt attributing it to the almost overwhelming stench of alcohol which permeated his uniform) the officer dutifully followed Martin back to Berkeley Square.

Martin and the officer ran up the stairs, but found no sign of Blunden in the 4th floor room. Martin reclaimed his rifle as the two men continued to search the house. Their efforts seemed to prove fruitless however, until the men entered the basement and were greeted to an image which would scar them for the remainder of
their lives.

Lying at the base of the stairs in Berkeley Square�s moist, rock walled cellar was Blunden's dismembered corpse. His body lay in a mangled heap, with his head wrenched viciously to the side. The officer reported that the young man's eyes were wide with unimaginable horror, and his face frozen in a grimace of twisted terror.

For the past 80 years the ground floor of the house on Berkeley Square has played host to an antique bookshop known as Maggs Brothers. Although there have been no reported sightings of the creature in the 20th century, this can easily be ascribed to the fact that if indeed this creature has oceanic roots, it has, in all likelihood, returned to the sea. Or - more chillingly perhaps - it and its offspring may still be lurking in the labyrinth of centuries old tunnels, which weave their way beneath Great Briton's relatively serene, capitol city.