As you wish,
Back in my student days, or more specifically at the end of my student days, me and my friends had a final farewell booze up at a friend's house. We laughed, we drank, we ate far too many sugary confections and then stumbled home queasy and cold in the midnight air of Plymouth. Me and my friend Ben (name changed) went one way as we lived in the same general area and were walking through the sea front area, past the light house known as Smeaton's tower. As we passed it, Ben swore blind that he could hear a banging coming from inside. For my part I couldn't hear a thing. Neither could I walk straight nor form coherent sentences to be fair but my ears still worked and I heard nothing and told him as much.
Seconds passed, we waited, heard nothing and carried on our way. Ten paces on, Ben turns and urgently says that he can hear thumping from within again and walked back to the (sealed) door. For my part I was cold and tired and nauseous and drunk and in need of the toilet and heard nothing to suggest that Ben wasn't either hearing things or just partaking in tomfoolery as was sometimes his wont to do, so I called a goodbye to him and shambled my unpleasant way home.
Three days went by and none of us heard anything from Ben, not that we particularly expected to. I did mean to ask him about his lighthouse adventure when next I saw him but it wasn't by any means a priority.
Then, me and my friends who'd been at that party all received the same email from Ben's email address. It was a long, senseless mess of characters: (AAA*A*R,<<,R,aAAA-IE+EEEEeeeeeeeoarrrrrrrrrrrryi&u - that sort of thing, on and on, line after line after line.) The only thing that did make sense were the three words worked somewhere into the middle which read 'No more skin'.
And to this day none of us have heard hide nor hare of him, we were leaving university that week however and knew we were likely to drift apart, I haven't heard from two more of the old social circle since either. Also it wouldn't be the first time that Ben came up with a prank that got bogged down by one too many convoluted facets.
It occurs to me that's not actually a ghost story... I'm assuming it isn't at least.
As for lettuces, uh; lettuce, lettuce, lettuce, spindle, lettuce. (Though I wish it were otherwise, that isn't a haiku.)
) 
