Do you believe in ghosts?

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Chuck E
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Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by Chuck E »

I've been laid up with some vicious bug. Off work and couldn't even be bothered to read, play my guitar, or even build a model kit. I started to pick up a bit recently, but was still signed off during treatment. Once I'd got myself back in gear I started doing the above again. I had a locally published book about the history of a local building which had quite a bit of a supernatural aspect. It's a very old building and the basement is still original, with an old coal range and flag stone floor. As I was bored, I thought that I'd try a ghost story and here it is. Very short. Buzzing around in my head and on a bit of scrap paper. Hope you like it.


The Priest’s Hole.

Ian C Rutland 2017

There is something about these big old houses that had always appealed to him. In fact, just about everything about them. The set tours usually filled some handy little gaps in his knowledge and he would always stay near to the guide. They had done this countless times and he found that they opened up even more when people asked the right questions, or showed a keen interest in what they were saying. He always planned his visits and read up on the potted histories of the house, in case there was something that particularly appealed. Balefield Hall was one that he’d been meaning to get to for a while, so when he found that he was only a few miles away on a training course in Stamford, he decided to stay over and add the hall to his list.

It was late summer and the countryside was baking under a relentless sun. He threaded his way along the narrow, winding lanes, between tall hedges and leafy hollows. He splashed through a shallow ford and, in the distance, caught his first view of the hall, standing below a heavily wooded hillside. He pulled the car off the road into a dusty farm track and got out. With the engine off, there was hardly a sound. Gradually the silence started to fill with sound again. Somewhere behind him, he could hear the stream he’d just crossed, as it splashed over stones. There was a buzz of insects in the hedgerow and a bird of some sort called from the wood at the roads edge. The fields were all well-tended, but not a soul was to be seen, only a few sheep in a field over the stream, and they stood almost motionless. He pulled out his camera and switched it on. He wanted to catch this first sight of the hall. By panning and adjusting the zoom, he managed to edit out almost all the modern features in the view. The freshly gravelled road, the steel farm gate and the rusty corrugated shelter poking its peeling sides through the hedge. The shot looked as it would have looked for centuries. He pulled back and got the modern features in again. He’d photo shop them out later and make the road into a rutted dirt track. It was the only road leading up to the hall, but it was empty and he hadn’t seen another car for over ten minutes. The guide had said that it was open that day, so he pressed on. The tyres crunched on the loose gravel and left a little plume of dust in the road. The water splashed onto the car in the ford had already dried. His only air conditioning was winding down the windows.

About half a mile further up the road he came to the gates and turned in. At the head of the drive was a small car park with few cars and two mini buses, so there were some other visitors. Two kids kicked a ball around on the grass while their parents sat at a picnic table. Under a huge Chestnut tree, a small café nestled unobtrusively. It looked like some old cottage that had been modified for the tourist trade, just far enough from the house so as not to intrude. To his surprise, a number of fully armed Roundheads came out from the café and sat at the tables on the neatly kept lawn. One had an iPhone, so he guessed that it was actually a group from some Civil War re-enactment society. They certainly looked good. He took a few shots of them and they posed happily for him. He knew the hall from a television series that had been shot there quite recently and a spoof horror film that had been made in the 80’s. A bit of revenue from such work would be most welcome, he was sure. He parked up and gathered his bits and pieces. Camera, note pads, pencils. They all just dropped into the pockets of his fishing jacket, which was never used for its intended purpose, but was handy to store just about anything in, and no problems swinging a huge rucksack about in rooms filled with antiques. He made his way along the drive to the end of a dense stand of trees and there it was, Balefield Hall, looking as it must have looked since it was built. The curtain wall still extended from the west wing and ended in a small tower to his left. It had originally curved right over to the wide drive, where a gateway had once stood. He had watched Time Team on one of their three day digs as they had traced the wall and found the foundations of the chapel. The wall and chapel had been demolished during the Civil War, when the hall had had its finest hour. King Charles was supposed to be hiding there on his way back to Oxford. A large force of Roundheads had been sent to dig him out. The siege had lasted only two days, until the Parliamentarians had brought up two cannon and smashed the gatehouse to rubble. The King had never been there, but it held up the Roundheads for three days. Charles had reached Carisbrooke before the siege ended. Engineers were left to drop the curtain wall and render the house defenceless. They blew up the chapel for good measure, rather than drag the spare barrels of gunpowder back with them. The war was as good as over by this point, but they set to with a vengeance to drop walls and any other defensive feature. They ransacked the hall, but left it standing, apart from the high tower on the West Wing. A few barrels of gunpowder soon dropped the imposing, though largely decorative structure. The two lower levels had remained intact and they were later rebuilt with a new roof, so it looked more like a short, squat drum tower. These days it was almost hidden in ivy. Small windows peered out from the ancient growth. The East wing was now the family home and was off limits to visitors, which left the rest of the hall as a mixture of original apartments and rooms, and a museum of Civil War artefacts, and vintage weapons. All this, he had learned from his earlier research. Now, he wanted to get a feel of the place.

He had joined the small tour that was forming up below the ornate stairwell. Every wall was covered in displays of swords, pikes, muskets and flags, which dated from the Civil War right up to the Great War. It had been the headquarters of the local yeomanry from the 18th Century and the drill hall, which dated from 1776, was still in use up until 1947. These days it was used for weddings and other functions. He was delighted to see that the staff were dressed authentically in Civil War costumes, though all Royalist in style. Balefield Hall had, after all, always been a Royalist stronghold. The tour criss-crossed the house and the two guides, who stayed in character throughout, were humorous, informative and friendly. They fielded every question with a knowledge beyond anything that they could have picked up from books or rubbing shoulders with the Time Team. Anecdotes accompanied every question and the hour went by quickly.

After the official tour, the visitors were allowed to go around again, on their own. There were always staff on hand, if needed, so he set off again for the tower. It had intrigued him on the tour and he had been glad to go back there. It was a simple space really, with very little in the way of furniture, mostly just benches and a few tables. Two tapestries hung from the walls between which hung an eclectic mix of prints and old maps. The upper room still had the curved stairway which had once led to the upper four floors of the tower. On the opposite side was the curved stairway leading down to the dimly lit space that was now furnished as a dungeon and torture chamber, complete with shadowy figures sitting in dimly lit cells. One had reminded him of Catweasel, and he had almost expected to hear Geoffrey Bayldon’s voice echoing through the cells. It had made him smile. He didn’t go back down stairs, but sat quietly on one of the heavy oak benches. He was quite alone and he liked it that way. His imagination was starting to kick in and he could almost imagine men with their ancient Matchlock Muskets, peering out through the small windows of the tower. It would have been deafening and wreathed in smoke as they tried to hold off the very efficient New Model Army. He was aware of another person in the room and looked up. One of the staff, dressed quite plainly as a Catholic Priest, was looking down at him. He smiled. “Taking time for some silent contemplation, my son?” The priest asked. He decided to play along. “Yes Father. It has been a busy day.” The priest sat down. “For all of us. I fear Cromwell’s men will be with us shortly and then we shall be busier still.” The old guy was really immersed in the part, right down to the extremely authentic clothing. He was dressed in a long black coat over a white shirt with a high collar. He wore very old looking wire framed glasses and a soft, almost conical, black hat. A large, ornate crucifix hung around his neck, below his long white beard. “You will be safe should they breech the walls, Father?” The priest smiled. “Yes, my son. Don’t worry for me. The priest’s Hole is just below the stairs, there.”

A priest’s Hole? Funny. No one had mentioned this on the tour, which seemed an odd omission, especially since they were so well briefed. Surely, a Priest’s Hole would have been a high point in any tour. Suddenly the tower shook and smoke filled the air. A loud explosion echoed around the space and he saw flames in the windows. The sky was stained with smoke and the sun’s rays hardly penetrated the darkness. He saw the Roundheads marching forward towards the house with pikes raised. There appeared to be lot more of them, and no one was carrying an iPhone this time. Other troops seemed to running from the house, with swords and staffs. He heard a groan behind him. He turned to see the priest pushing at a stone behind the edge of the tapestry. The priest cried out to him. “Help me, my son, they are here already. Too soon, they come. Too soon.” Not knowing what was happening, he stepped back to the priest’s side. “How can I help?” The priest turned. He looked genuinely scared. “Here, the cracked stone. Push on it and the door will open.” In a daze, he pushed and together they managed to displace the stone. Amazingly, the wall beside the stairs swung back. The priest made for the opening. “I need to hide. Will you be safe, my son? We could both hide here and get out through the lower gate. ” His head spinning, he answered. “Yes Father, I will be safe. You go.” The priest nodded. “I will pray for your deliverance, my son.” He hesitated. “My bible. I don’t have my bible.” Something connected in his brain and he reached into his pocket and brought out his small Gideon’s Bible. “Here Father, borrow this one. You’d best have this torch, too, it’s going to be dark in there.” The priest took it but looked confused. ‘Still in character, he thought. “Look, just press this button and squeeze the handle and it will light your way.” The priest did as bidden and was amazed when the small torch lit up. “Good luck Father. God be with you.” The priest made the sign of the cross. “And with you my son. And with you.” With that, the stone door swung closed. He staggered back into the room and was suddenly aware that the silence had returned. He guessed that there was a way out from the hole, so he gathered his things and made his way downstairs. Another crack echoed around the walls and there was a cheer from the courtyard. It was the re-enactors. They certainly weren’t messing about. Smoke drifted away on the small breeze and they took their bows.

The tour guides turned back to the entrance and saw him standing there. The Lady of the house spoke over the chatter and laughing. “Look, you missed the display.” He smiled. “I watched it from the tower. Very well done. I was amazed. The priest hiding and all that. What a great experience. Thank you.” He realised that the tour guides were looking rather quizzically at him. She spoke again. “The Priest? Hiding?” “Yes.” He replied. “The Priest’s Hole in the tower. You know.” She shook her head. “No, we didn’t know. We always believed that there was a Priest’s Hole, but no one ever found one. We guessed that it was buried when the chapel was blown up. You remember, Time Team were looking for it.” He nodded. “They never did find it. It’s in the Tower.” She shook her head. “The Tower? How do you know?” He was getting confused now. “The guy upstairs who was acting as the priest. One of your team, he showed it to me. He was very good, too. Shall we go and find him, or is there a back way out? The other guide looked stunned. “We don’t have a priest on the staff, and we don’t have a priest’s hole, neither.” He looked from one to the other. “But you do. I’ve seen them, just minutes ago.” They were still looking at him as if he was mad. “I’m not kidding. Honestly. Look, let me show you. Please.” They looked at each other and shrugged. The Lady spoke first. “Well, looking won’t be a problem. You say the priest went into the priest’s hole?” He nodded. “Yes. It was quite dark, so I loaned him my torch. He said he needed his bible, so I loaned him my old Gideon’s One that I had a school.” The man led the way and they returned to the tower. The conversation had been overheard and they had attracted quite a following as they climbed the wide staircase. There was quite a lot of excitement and people thought it was another part of the show.

The room looked just as it always had. Low dark beams of oak, the heavy oak benches and tables, the heavy tapestries. The Sun had moved around a little and its pale rays lit the edge of the tapestry above the cracked stone. He moved the tapestry and there was the stone with the crack, just as before. He turned. “Shall I show you?” They nodded. You could hear a pin drop. He pushed, but the stone wouldn’t budge. He tried again and he thought that he felt it move a little. He turned. “Help me.” The man joined him and they pushed hard. Suddenly the stone moved back with a loud grating sound. The wall behind the stairs suddenly cracked and a door hidden within the stones swung back. It was dark inside, but a figure could be seen in the gloom. At that very moment, the Sun hit the other window and a bright ray of sunlight shone into the Priest’s Hole, locked shut for hundreds of years. There, for all to see, was a skeleton, dressed in black, an ornate cross around its neck and in its bony hands a small Gideons bible and a bright silver LED torch.

In the room, there was a loud gasp as the skeleton was revealed. People looked at the long dead priest, at each other. Some laughed nervously and others, though they had jumped when the Sun hit the small space, were now starting to think that it was all part of the show. There was even a little round of applause. Some even started to take pictures. The guides were going to stop them, but what could they say? They were as shocked as anyone. Eventually, the people started to leave the room, as some other tour guides arrived.

The woman looked at him. “How did you manage to get in there and put your things into his hands? Why would you do that?” She sounded quite hostile. He could only shake his head. The man came to his rescue. “Nobody has been in there for centuries. Look at the cobwebs and the rubble behind the door. He could never have pushed that stone back on his own. I don’t understand this, but that door has been closed fast since the priest died. There’s no way in or out.” The Curator pressed past them and reached for the bible. As he lifted it free, the dry old papers fell to dust, only the card cover remaining. There inside was a name and a date. He was behind the Curator and could see the words that he had written all those years ago. The Curator turned. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” He could only nod. He was looking into the small room. Behind the chair, where he had seen a hatch and ladder before, there was just a pile of rubble. The escape route had been blocked.

There was no way out and no one left to find the priest. Until today.
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lancfan
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by lancfan »

Very good tale Ian.

David.
David.

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iggie
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by iggie »

Very good indeed, I enjoyed reading that very much
Best wishes

Jim
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MarkyM607
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by MarkyM607 »

That sounds more like a Temporal Displacement story to me!! :ha: , but worth a read and believably written. :grin:
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Chuck E
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by Chuck E »

Some friends just published a paperback with some spooky goings on and some temporal displacement, so I thought that I'd have a shot.

One of the stories had a scene in which, a young girl is running for her life and runs a hundred years into the future ( Our present.) and is helped in her escape.
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MarkyM607
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by MarkyM607 »

Chuck E wrote:Some friends just published a paperback with some spooky goings on and some temporal displacement, so I thought that I'd have a shot.

One of the stories had a scene in which, a young girl is running for her life and runs a hundred years into the future ( Our present.) and is helped in her escape.
Hi, don't get me wrong, no criticism intended. I wish I could write my stories with half the realism and substance yours had. I did enjoy it as well. :grin:
(Did the girl get up to 88mph?), still interested to read that one too!. :grin:
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Eric Mc
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by Eric Mc »

No.
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MarkyM607
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by MarkyM607 »

Eric Mc wrote:No.
No?.
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by SouthEast Aviation99 »

I've written a couple of (very) short wartime ghost stories. I personally find the topic fascinating.
I personally do believe in spirits and spiritualism, many mock me for it but I am convinced of their existence.
I do however have my own theory about apparitions. Basically that there are endless time streams, (no one knows exactly what time IS after all) all running along side each other and for what ever reason, perhaps a great emotionally charged moment such as a death, the time streams sometimes get brought so close enough together that people in what we perceive as the present, can see events that we perceive happened in the past, not as flesh an blood, but as an image imprinted on time.
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by iggie »

The CITB training college at Bircham Newton is haunted by a selection of RAF Servicemen....I've never seen anything, but there is an unsettling presence that I have felt and that is commented on by a great many people who have attended the college over the years. There are numerous reports and stories and in my opinion too many for all of them to be untruths or faked.
My great Uncle and Aunt lived in south-western France, and had a converted barn that had been used for hiding allied servicemen on one of the the routes to Spain. I have (as did several others) smelt the distinct aroma of Players tobacco in one corner of the house (which is the original barn) late at night, attributed to the last aircrew to be hidden there before their betrayal by pro-Vichy informants. The barn was surrounded and (as was common practice) set alight, the escaping occupants being gunned down.
Best wishes

Jim
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MarkyM607
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by MarkyM607 »

I think for certain there is stuff out there like this, even with a science based life there is always something that doesn't tick all of the boxes as far as being explained or answered. The time stream idea is interesting, parallel dimensions are, I think, at least theorised if not proven so maybe...
Some people say it is a mental thing for the person viewing the ghost or whatever and I think people are not seeing things because of some problem up top but ghosts and the like use a mind to appear. Just my ideas. :grin:
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Chuck E
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by Chuck E »

I have seen only one ghost. Coming home late one Saturday night with my dog, I opened the front gate and was quite surprised to see my old Headmaster standing by my front door. Kim, my retriever, walked towards him and I looked down to latch the gate. When I looked up, he was gone. My Mum, who always checked the Hatched, Matched and Dispatched Columns, mentioned a couple of days later that Mr Sewell had died on Saturday night. He stood there as plain as day.

One of the architects working on our local, and very haunted, theatre, had just set up a camera to take shots of the stripped out stalls. The theatre is in the middle of a very expensive renovation. In two of the photos, two figures can be seen standing at the rear of the stalls, but the auditorium was empty. This is not the only time that a camera has picked out the two figures.

There was a well known ghost of a small dog, too. During the removal of an internal wall, the skeleton of a dog was found. There have, to my knowledge, been no sightings since it was found.

I'm keeping an open mind. Senor Reno Pepe, who built the theatre in 1901, is well known for letting people know if he is displeased about something in the building. He regularly slams a door up in the fly loft. The door is a very heavy steel and wood door, that is held shut with a cable and weight. It is never left open, has a number key to open it from the Follow Spot position and cannot be moved by drafts. From time to time, it slams shut, very loudly.
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by MarkyM607 »

Chuck E wrote:I have seen only one ghost. Coming home late one Saturday night with my dog, I opened the front gate and was quite surprised to see my old Headmaster standing by my front door. Kim, my retriever, walked towards him and I looked down to latch the gate. When I looked up, he was gone. My Mum, who always checked the Hatched, Matched and Dispatched Columns, mentioned a couple of days later that Mr Sewell had died on Saturday night. He stood there as plain as day.

One of the architects working on our local, and very haunted, theatre, had just set up a camera to take shots of the stripped out stalls. The theatre is in the middle of a very expensive renovation. In two of the photos, two figures can be seen standing at the rear of the stalls, but the auditorium was empty. This is not the only time that a camera has picked out the two figures.

There was a well known ghost of a small dog, too. During the removal of an internal wall, the skeleton of a dog was found. There have, to my knowledge, been no sightings since it was found.

I'm keeping an open mind. Senor Reno Pepe, who built the theatre in 1901, is well known for letting people know if he is displeased about something in the building. He regularly slams a door up in the fly loft. The door is a very heavy steel and wood door, that is held shut with a cable and weight. It is never left open, has a number key to open it from the Follow Spot position and cannot be moved by drafts. From time to time, it slams shut, very loudly.
That is so cool... and scary!! :grin: . I would love to see something but I also think I would become a jelly very quickly and ruin the moment!!. I did watch the Ghost Hunters and the like, not sure if I could manage to do that sort of thing, can't sleep in total darkness so walking around in it might not be much easier!!. I do believe there is stuff out there like this no matter what science and the modern world may say (I do like science by the way!. Not sure about the modern world!! :ha: )
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Chuck E
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Re: Do you believe in ghosts?

Post by Chuck E »

It wasn't a bit scary. It gave me goosebumps when my Mother mentioned it, though.

Imagine that you are walking through town and see someone you know in the crowd, but they just disappear among the shoppers. Later you may find that they died. On the other hand, you may walk through town and see a hundred people, when you only passed 98.

I guess that you would be more scared if the situation was more spooky, like old buildings and dark, stormy nights.

I wrote a farce for a local group, featuring a ghost, or two. A bit of a 1950's Carry On type show.
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