The Angry Ghost and Other Stories

by Peter Spokes

  Luther returned to the diary:

  “23 Jan 1756:

  As expected, I have heard nothing of Hammett. I am pleased for apart from his lack of reverence to my position and his romantic inclinations to the Witch; it was becoming more clear to me that he was not one with the faith, and was becoming increasingly vocal in his scepticism of my methods in seeking out and putting down the evil in my parish.

  During my time seeking out all that is unholy, I have become acquainted with some rather undesirable miscreants and for a small sum, I feel I could persuade them to complete the task of moving the witch’s corpse.

  Tomorrow I’ll seek out the little band of undesirables. They will find the grave, dig up the remains of the witch Mary and, once returned to me, I am going to bury the remains within the walls of the graveyard where her spirit will remain incarcerated until the end of days.

  I know that the power of this consecrated edifice will be strong to keep her spirit entrapped.

  She had the temerity to turn down my advances and belittle the power I wield in my exalted position. For her impudence, she deserves eternity in perdition and the damnation that she has chosen.”

  Scene 5: The Diary 5

  “Can you believe this guy?” Luther said looking up again at the father.

  The father shook his head sadly. “Poor Father Hammett and those poor wretches he murdered so horribly…”

  Luther looked to the next page:

  “12 Feb 1756:

  Tonight, my suspicions that the woods are now dangerous were vindicated. The witch’s corpse was brought to me, be it two evenings later than I instructed.

  I looked into the mud-plastered face of one of the miscreants I had employed to bring me the corpse.

  He was alone -– and quite mad.

  Saliva dribbled unabated down his chin and onto a ripped shirt, while his eyes kept rolling back into his head and he nodded incessantly.

  Gently, he laid the covered corpse at my feet with surprising reverence – though whether this veneration was to me or the corpse I was not to know.

  An arm fell from the folds of the sheet but rather than a decomposing limb, a soft pink appendage lay there. I told myself that I should not be troubled by this as I knew of her malevolent and corrupt faith.

  All the while the man – Finlay or Finney I think his name was – muttered incoherently to himself about branches that tore and ripped. A clear indication of the level of his madness – I thought – but then remembered the abuse I had endured when I had worn that satanic neckband.

  I had planned to renege on the payment by telling the fellow that as he was doing God’s work and it would be heretical to expect payment, but found it unnecessary for – without a word – he turned and staggered back towards the woods.

  I saw no sign of his accomplices.

  I will bury her: There shall be no headstone or any other evidence of where she lay. There is a very large unkempt area beyond the graveyard but still within the church’s demesne where she will never be found.

  There cannot be any chance of future exhumation. I have in place an order concerning the specific nature of my own funeral and the advanced arcane knowledge I have vigorously learnt should enable this to pass and ensure that the witch’s body and spirit never leave the confines of the graveyard, though I know that this church will forever hold the divine powers necessary to keep the woods out.”

  Luther looked up at the father. “I wonder what he meant by arcane knowledge?”

  “That’s the second time he’s intimated that he dabbled in darker things than Catholic doctrine – if that’s possible.”

  “Do you know where Kramer is buried?”

  “I don’t but I doubt it was in this graveyard; all the stones and statues were quite modest… and have been moved – along with the bodies – to the new churchyard in Enbridge.”

  “I would have thought that with Kramer’s arrogance and self-importance he would have had a ten-foot memorial.”

  The father smiled. “I would have thought so too.”

  “So, they’ve all been moved to Enbridge?” Luther asked.

  The father nodded.

  Neither said anything for a while and then Luther spoke:

  “I’m sorry about what happened to your… relation.”

  The father said nothing for a moment before, “… Who was it that you were looking for? Was it one of the poor unfortunates that recovered the witch’s corpse?”

  Luther was surprised by his own immediate reserve in revealing his ancestor – and the father’s lack of intuition. Though not enthusiastic in saying that he was related to one of the miscreants, at least it would have likely been met with an understanding nod of sympathy.

  Despite this, he knew what his response was going to be and berated himself for his reticence.

  “No; Mary – it was Mary, the woman that Kramer hung… and burned… the witch… She is my grandmother several times removed.”

  “So sorry.” The father appeared genuinely sympathetic. “But you need to let it go…”

  “Excuse me?” Luther replied not understanding.

  “You speak of her in the present tense as if she is still around but… like my relation…” he shook his head, “… they are gone.”

  Luther looked up at the father and paused while several options to a reply came to mind.

  But – for now – he let it go.

  Chapter 6

  Scene 1: The Spirit in the Woods

  That evening Luther returned to the Witch’s Grave; he had no trouble finding it this time and was actually glad to see Mary sitting again as before atop the mound. He found it illuminating how quickly a mind can accept the generally considered unacceptable.

  Several times on route he had raised his fingers to his neckband to ensure there was still plenty of space between the vine and his neck but still was reticent to removing it – if that were indeed possible.

  He walked over waving away the stirring vines, stood in front of Mary and looked down into her green eyes. “I found Kramer’s diary but I don’t know what you want me to do.”

  “Free me, Luther; free my spirit to the woods and my beloved.”

  “Beloved?”

  “Yes. There is a… spirit… that is in the forest. He has been here almost as long as I.”

  Luther looked around at the trees and the darkness between them.

  “He’s always here, waiting to be with me again – in fact, he has helped you to find me.”

  Luther thought of the times he had walked through the woods more easily than he would have thought possible.

  “But you’re here; are you not already together?”

  “I cannot see him – only sense his presence. I have spirit and body but both are held in the churchyard. I was once quite… powerful and so can still project an image – an extension of myself only. To my beloved I exist as only… a conscious memory.”

  “That’s very sad,” Luther said quietly to himself, “to be so close to the one you love, and yet … not be with them.”

  He addressed the witch, “Kramer’s diary mentions a neckband with a stone on it that he took from you – it nearly killed him – is it significant?”

  Mary smiled. “Not to freeing me; my beloved made it for me.” She looked down. “It had an opal gemstone threaded on to a vine.”

  “Opal?” Luther asked.

  “Yes; the value of gem stones arises from the fact that they are essentially from the same material as the soul… you say it nearly killed Kramer… excellent. I wonder what happened to it?”

  Luther looked down for a moment regressing slightly into his rational thought processes before:

  “I believe it returned to the woods… before I found it,” Luther said quietly and opened the neck of his shirt.

  She looked surprised and
then thoughtful before smiling. “Maybe it found you. The woods have accepted you – I’m so glad – for you would be dead now if they had not.”

  Luther swallowed hard and nodded while checking the looseness on the neckband once again. “Is there anything… special… about opal? Because it burnt Kramer; why was that?”

  “You have already met him?” she asked incredulous. “Did he recognise you?”

  “I think so… he said that he would never let me free you.”

  After a pause Mary said, “The opal holds a very potent power of positive energy for protection. It can cause… problems… with the wrong person. Once my beloved learned that I was involved with Kramer he made the neckband for my protection. It was his first attempt at the craft. He warned me that Kramer was evil. He told me he was not just a bad man but – he sensed – an insidious malevolence… and something more… something much, much more.”

  She smiled. “It is of no surprise to me that Kramer wasn’t… attuned… to it.”

  “And I am, because of you?” Luther said.

  “In part… but also because of my beloved.”

  “I’m related… descended from the two of you?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  Luther looked around him. He felt remarkably relaxed and comfortable. The air was cool and the oil lamp provided a meagre luminosity to the scene that only intensified the focus and privacy of the moment. In an odd way he could not explain, the ambience was such that he felt he never really wanted to leave this place.

  “So, am I right in guessing that I’m supposed to dig you up and return your corpse to the woods; and that will free your spirit?” Luther said eventually.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid that I don’t know where you are buried,” he said wincing.

  Scene 2: The Cats

  Mary looked up clearly surprised, “You must know; that information was in his diary – was it not?”

  Luther shook his head.

  Mary looked down, crestfallen.

  “Kramer wrote rather figuratively about it being somewhere in the unkempt part of the graveyard and though much of the graveyard is now overgrown, we know it’s on this side because he said he could see it from the tower window, but there’s an awful lot of space there and in 250 years things are more… overgrown.”

  Luther continued, “Don’t you know where you are buried? You knew where Kramer’s diary was hidden.”

  “One evening I saw him hiding it,” she said.

  “You were in the chapel?”

  “No, but the twins were,” she said looking at the cats once again playing with Luther’s bootlaces. She looked at them. “My sisters always loved cats so I’m not surprised that they continue with the form.”

  Luther looked over as they played. He paused. “So they… those cats… are your sisters?”

  Mary shook her head. “Of course not,” she said and Luther smiled with some relief – but she continued, “the cats are possessed by my sisters.”

  Luther fully expected to regret his next question but felt he had to ask it anyway, “Why would your sisters want to chew my laces?”

  Mary shrugged. “I guess they pick up the traits and fancies of the cats or maybe the cats’ desire to play with your laces is too great for my sisters to control,” she said still despondent, but then looked up suddenly. “There is something you need to understand. I had strong powers…”

  Luther looked up.

  “… But I could not use them…”

  Luther’s initial interest suddenly waned. “So what good is that?” he asked trying his best not to sound negative.

  “Lizzie and Jenny never possessed any powers of their own…”

  “… Again…” Luther started.

  “… but used mine. That is why we were always so close. That was our way of protecting each other. I hold the power but my sisters wield it.”

  Luther nodded unsure what he was hearing. “Kramer’s diary…” he began, “… says you were first burnt and then hung… and cursed him with fire and flame…?”

  Mary gave Luther the broadest smile; “Flame is our familiar and the power I hold. Unfortunately, that evening, by the time my sisters arrived, I was close to death and my powers much reduced. But what I had was unleashed on Kramer, though once my life was… no more… my sisters had no power to use and Kramer… persisted.”

  “Familiar? Aren’t they supposed to be witches’ companions and normally cats, wolves or bunny rabbits?”

  “… Yes… but with us it was flame.”

  Luther said nothing but remembered a moment when he had walked unharmed from his burning mansion. ‘It was a miracle that you survived the flames’, the fireman had said.

  He looked up at the branches as they swayed despite the absence of any wind, and listened to the calm of the woods.

  “How can you tell the cats apart?” he asked somewhat obliquely.

  “Don’t be ridiculous; they are my sisters,” she said.

  Luther sighed.

  Scene 3: Non-physical Life

  Mary looked down while Luther studied the cats for several moments before looking up at the vines still swaying this way and that – occasionally swatting a few that got too close. But then he began to focus on what he was actually seeing. He started to wonder if his eyes were playing tricks as he noticed that many appeared to pulse in their movement as if in time to a heartbeat as they caressed Mary’s form.

  “Mary; how do these vines find you when you are essentially not here?”

  She answered but it was clear from her eyes that her thoughts were still someplace else. “As I’ve said, I was once powerful and so despite my… demise… I still possess a very small residual like a shadow or echo – something that is not there but the product of something that once was; the trees in these woods have always been most sensitive to my presence – even a non-physical one.”

  “Non-physical presence?” Luther said intrigued.

  “There is a very strong sentience here,” she said quietly.

  “So, if they can find this ‘very small residual presence’ could they not locate the presumably stronger spirit and physical presence of your actual body?”

  Mary looked up at Luther. “Maybe, but they could not overcome the wall. For reasons I do not understand, the wall has recently become weaker enabling my… echo. But they still cannot cross it.”

  “But that wall looks like it might fall over in a strong wind.”

  “It’s not the physical wall; it’s what it represents; the boundary where the hallowed ground begins.”

  “Do you consider the ground evil, or holy?”

  “No… just different.”

  Luther looked at Mary and then the waving vines for several silent minutes and then made his decision.

  “I need to speak to Father Bremmer.”

  “That is good. I have tried to speak to him as his help is needed also, but he is not as mentally… resilient as you.”

  “He is a religious man… they have their strong doctrines that force their beliefs,” Luther said.

  “But his ancestor was not swayed by the church’s doctrines. I have tried to guide him here as I have you. But he denies me with his… reluctance in believing.”

  She paused as if she were trying to find her words. “I will be honest, Luther, Kramer will be hard to overcome. I was naive in my belief that he was just some lowly priest. There were rumours that he was involved in… dark arts and a prince of dark learnings. I underestimated his abilities for the dark gods have rewarded him for he has never succumbed to death. As I lie imprisoned, I’m aware of his presence in both a spiritual and corporeal existence.”

  “That’s impossible,” Luther said dismissively.

  Mary admonished him with her eyes. “Considering you are currently talking to a ghost… or an ech
o of one… you should probably redefine in your mind what is – and what is not – impossible.”

  “Anyway,” Luther continued, “all the bodies were moved over to another churchyard.”

  Mary looked up suddenly and stared at Luther. “Why…?”

  “It seems that a bigger church now acts as Morthaven’s focus of worship,” he answered. “The chapel no longer serves as a node of religious power.”

  “That’s it!” Mary said. “The church’s power has waned recently… that would explain how it is I can break away from its confines.”

  “So…” Luther stared back excited, “… if the church could lose more power, these trees could find you?”

  Mary nodded her eyes lighting up. “Possibly,” and continued; “but to destroy Kramer we must kill him twice – first his physical representation and then his physical body or his spirit will return. Both need to be destroyed.”

  “But we don’t have the physical body; it’s in another graveyard.”

  “No, it isn’t; I feel its presence,” Mary said and continued; “both you and Father Bremmer will need to find it… and be protected; Kramer will know his vulnerability.”

  She stood up suddenly excited. “Luther, come with me – I’ve thought of something that might help.” And with that she turned and disappeared – literally.

  Luther ran to the location where she had been and looked over to see her beside a tree some fifty or so paces away. He caught up with her only for her to disappear again and appear some distance away.

  After several such disappearances, Luther found Mary standing beside the roots of an old elm.

  “Reach down behind those roots,” Mary said. “You’ll find a hessian bag. Take it and keep it with you – always.”

  “But what’s in…” Luther started.

  “Something that will help,” she said.

  “How did you know it was here?” Luther pressed.

  Mary smiled with eyes as well as her mouth, “It was here that my beloved and I first kissed.”