GHOSTBUSTING A short story
I have a friend, Rocky, who believes in ghosts. Mind you, he also believes in flying saucers, corn circles, and the Bermuda Triangle. A bit on the gullible side, to say the least; the shaggier the story, the more likely he is to swallow it hook, line, and sinker. Rocky was in the habit of watching a television series called ‘Most Haunted’, and this, plus reading up on a little local history was sufficient for him to come up with the idea of doing a little ghost-hunting himself. He learned that Stoke Gabriel Parish Church is reckoned to be the most haunted church in the country, and he determined to confirm this for himself by spending a night in the church armed with recording devices. He became utterly convinced that it would bring him fame and fortune, that he would be the first man to make proven contact with the other world.
Rocky, however, was not quite as intrepid as was his plan, and eventually, he asked me if I would accompany him on his adventure. I laughed off the idea at first, but Rocky is a somewhat touchy soul, and became indignant at my attitude, so eventually, against my better judgement, I agreed. We decided to do a preliminary visit to the church, and if suitable, to seek permission for Operation Spook, as I christened it.
The churchyard was small and a little overgrown, and to our surprise, we found the church door unlocked. It was a typical country church, small, atmospheric and full of the character of ages. The evening sun streamed through the colourful west window, illuminating dark carved pews and a stone flagged floor. In front of the alter was a very large stepladder, at the top of which was a precariously perched man working on a chandelier. He quickly descended the ladder, dusted himself off, and introduced himself. John Merryweather turned out to be the local vicar, and a very friendly chap he was. Rocky explained our idea to him and asked would it be possible. The Rev. Merryweather found the whole idea very amusing
“Well, despite the all the spooky stories, I have been here for nearly eight years, and have never seen or felt any ghostly presence, or heard any strange noises, but if you are really serious, I have no objections, but do bear in mind, the church gets extremely cold at night. Perhaps you may consider a small contribution to the Roof Fund?”
Rocky readily agreed to this, and a date was agreed for the following Friday night,
At the appointed time, we arrived for our sojourn, fully equipped with sleeping bags, flasks of coffee and other stronger beverages, a state of the art video camera, tape recorder, and several candles. The vicar settled us in, and said he would be back next morning. He also asked us to lock the door from the inside after he left to prevent any chance of intruders. We settled down in our sleeping bags, and I suggested we take turns staying awake, but Rocky insisted he would be wide-awake and alert throughout the night. He had no intention of missing any chance of communing with the spirits.
In the event, Rocky’s snores were loud enough to wake the dead, but fortunately didn’t, and the whole night turned out to be a complete washout. Not a flicker from the candles, not a movement of a prayer book, nothing. The only moan we heard was from a passing drunk in the churchyard, who apparently tripped over a grave. By dawn’s early light, we were too cold to be disappointed, and having drunk too much coffee, toiletry considerations caused us to pack up and leave earlier than planned, and before the vicar arrived. It was either that or pollute the holy water in the font.
Once back home, Rocky’s long suffering wife quickly produced a wonderful cooked breakfast, which restored our flagging spirits. Rocky said that we owed the vicar an apology for not waiting for him, and so penned a quick letter of thanks, enclosing a cheque for £20 for the Roof Fund.
A few days later, Rocky received a reply. The incumbent vicar, Very Rev. Williams thanked us for our donation, but was puzzled by the name on the envelope. Apparently, Rev. Merryweather had been the priest some 20 years previously, and had broken his neck when he fell off a stepladder while repairing a chandelier.
