Many employees and shoppers alike have claimed to have felt a strange presence making its self known in the pristine, sterile space of the King Street Apple store. Once home to Charleston bar and grill Cumberland’s and vintage clothing shop Granny’s Goodies, it’s widely believed that the spirits attached to those one-time local institutions are to blame for the unusual activity.

“It’s, like, so weird,” Abigail Myers said while getting her iPhone screen repaired for the fourth time since she purchased it in May 2015. “All of a sudden, the smell of burning nag chapa incense just hit me so hard, and when I looked up, I saw an older woman wearing big Elton John glasses and a one-piece polyester 70s leisure suit, waving a boa and spinning around, complaining about corporate greed and ‘the man.’ And then, she just disappeared. Like, POOF. Gone.”

“Sometimes at night, when I’m closing up the shop, I can hear the wails of a gruff Middle-Eastern man shouting at a fry cook while an AC/DC Bluegrass band plays in the background,” reported longtime Apple Genius Bar manager Ollie Crumb, “I’m having a hard time keeping employees. There’s only so many smug tech snobs in thick-framed glasses to go around, but those guys scare really easily.”

Reportedly every Monday night, lost souls of bird-chested West Ashley 20-something males in white undershirts take form, asking where to sign up for live band heavy metal karaoke and trying to persuade a long-gone bartender to reveal what $1 mystery beers they’re selling that night.







