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The Angry Ghost and Other Stories

Page 54

by Peter Spokes


  And with that she disappeared.

  Reaching down Luther dug around the roots with his hands and just as he was about to give up, his fingers found a soft material. He lifted a small bag. From its condition, it was clear that it had been there a very, very long time. It felt as if it contained earth but feeling not unlike a sleepwalker in a play, he simply withdrew it, tied it to his belt and left.

  Luther walked back through the woods in the direction of the chapel. His mind was so engaged with his thoughts that he gave no thought to his route, and so was blind to the method that created the path before him and the large creature that watched him go.

  Scene 4: The Father’s Help

  “Well, the ‘ex-inhabitants’, as you put it,” the father said drily relating to Luther’s reference to the graves, “would have been given a Christian burial in full accordance with the edicts laid down which would include several ecclesiastical requirements performed by the father.”

  “Presumably Mary would not have been subject to this?”

  “I doubt it very much. I mean no offence, but it would have been quite normal for someone of Mary’s… persuasion, to have been buried in unhallowed ground; perhaps outside the graveyard wall – and before you say it – I share your feelings of disgust with Kramer, and not only because of his contribution to my ancestor’s demise; remember Father Hammett had a great respect for the viewpoints and values of other communities – as do I.”

  “I’m sorry, Father…” he looked up slowly, “but to be honest, I find myself… well, feeling some ill will towards you, though I know not why, but I felt it before I knew anything of Mary or her death at the hands of a clergyman.”

  The father appeared not offended; in fact, he seemed quite intrigued by the statement.

  He looked closely at Luther for a while before he spoke, “Do you feel an anxiety with a feeling of irrational hostility?”

  Luther looked up surprised, “… Absolutely.”

  “I feel the same, but only when I am here in the chapel,” the father gestured around him. “In the woods or in the village, the feeling is gone. That is another reason – other than the picture in the tower – that I sleep in the Winnebago in the car park.”

  He continued, “We have never spoken anywhere but in the demesne of this chapel. Do you think that it’s possible that it’s not me but something else…? Perhaps another influence…?

  Kramer?… A few weeks ago I would have considered that quite ludicrous but now…” Luther felt encouraged by the father’s words and felt good that his own dislike might not be for the father after all.

  Luther felt it was time to be open and honest.

  “Father… I understand your… thinking on what is and is not possible but… I’ve seen Mary… the witch… the ghost… and spoken to her… It was she who first told me of Kramer and was the young woman I saw in the sacristy showing me the location of Kramer’s diary. She wants me… us… to free her, and I believe I have thought of a way to do it.”

  “Us? Luther, before we go further with this, I too need to be honest. I don’t believe in magic, witches or goblins… although… I must be truthful… I too have seen this woman.”

  “Mary said she had… tried to communicate with you… but you are not receptive to her.”

  The father paused, “There is no rational argument for the existence of witches… real witches, that is. It was superstition, paganism and a few healers that created the stories. I do work long hours and sometimes take books and manuscripts to my trailer to research further into the night. So, some sleep deprivation can create all sorts of confusion or uncertainty.”

  “I can see why she had trouble with you,” Luther said seriously. “But for some reason she needs your help… as well as mine.”

  Luther continued. “We are not and have never been strangers or spectators to the hanging and burning that occurred all those years ago. I am born of Mary and Father Hammett and I believe you are too.”

  The father looked down shaking his head, “I know that in our past some individuals calling themselves witches proclaimed to be healers or might declare their ability to remove a wart or lumbago through witchcraft and otherwise gifted with otherworldly powers, but – let’s be honest – if it worked it was always a placebo effect on the recipients. Witchcraft does not – and has never – existed.”

  Luther studied the father silently for a while before smiling. “Up until a few days ago, I would have agreed… but no more. Boy, there are things I could show you!”

  “But, Luther; you are an educated man!” the father said his voice raised in frustration.

  “And because of that, I am open to things… my mind is not closed. Mary told me that I will need your help, though I’m not sure why. She told me you are to me what her sisters were to her.”

  The father looked up and stared at Luther. “I don’t see how I can help.”

  There was an awkward silence before Luther started up with, “Father, what makes the graveyard ‘hallowed’ and the walls resistant to… non-ecclesiastical forces?”

  The father raised his eyebrows a moment and then: “The graveyard would have been blessed by a priest or other ecclesiastical personage and as for the walls – well, they are simply borders or boundaries that enclose that consecrated ground.”

  “Is that all? So, the boundary’s material construction is unimportant,” Luther said surprised.

  “Absolutely; I knew someone once who had a stream at the end of his church’s graveyard; a boundary can be anything. Luther – where are you going with this?”

  “Father, I’m going to ensure that Mary’s corpse is found and returned to the forest, and perhaps this is the help that Mary requires of you. It seems clear from Kramer’s diary that she is buried somewhere in that unused, unkempt area behind the chapel but I don’t know where.”

  “That’s a very large area to dig.”

  “I don’t intend to dig,” Luther said and then spent several minutes discussing his plan to the father.

  When Luther had finished, Father Bremmer looked down for a while, and then: “I must say that what you suggest seems a long way outside the realms of possibility.” The father looked back up at the upper window of the church tower and the figure seemingly leaning out from his picture – almost as if he were listening. “I’m really not sure of this but… if this will convince you that all this is nonsense… then I’m in.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Luther said sincerely and left.

  Scene 5: More of the Father’s Help

  Luther’s mind was trying to understand the meanings behind such seemingly spurious terms such as ‘sanctity’ and ‘consecration’. He understood both terms to refer to people, objects or almost anything that could be judged as special, generally in a religious or ecumenical way.

  So, what made the graveyard ‘consecrated’? Did a member of the church say words over the graveyard; was there a ceremony? What created the ethereal ‘wall’ between the graveyard and the woods? And how could it be removed? The walls were weakened with the removal of the corpses, the bell and regular masses.

  He agreed with Mary that it must be what the wall represented rather than the physical structure.

  The church has ‘sanctity’; it is a central node of religious presence, but what gives it energy or allows it a power to inhibit other powers and energies?

  What about the good and evil idea? Father Kramer was clearly evil and yet was still able to dwell in the churchyard but was not welcome in the woods, whereas the foliage of the forest – which one would consider natural and certainly not malicious – was unable to penetrate the barrier. Unless maybe as Father Kramer considered Mary evil and Mary loved the woods – and apparently something that lives there – ergo, the forest is evil. But then it was clear that the motives behind Father Kramer’s murder of Mary actually made him the evil one, so how was his spirit able to
exist in the church’s grounds?

  Luther felt his thoughts going around in circles.

  Then he remembered Mary’s reply; maybe there is no such thing as good and evil – only difference; but a difference that has the power to create corruption and killings as well as growth and nurturing.

  Father Bremmer seemed to be expecting him for he was standing at the gate when Luther arrived. “Father, I need some understanding about the graveyard,” Luther began.

  “Certainly, but I’ve looked up in the records and know where Kramer was buried.”

  “But the gravestones are now gone?” Luther said intrigued.

  “Indeed they are but nonetheless… I know and wonder…” he answered cryptically.

  The father led Luther out of the chapel before following a path that took them along to the far side of the graveyard.

  The father stopped and pointed. “This is where – according to the records – he was put to rest.”

  Luther and the father stared down at the earth. Both knew what they wanted to do but were unsure how to utter it.

  The father walked back to the chapel and returned with two spades.

  “Let’s dig,” he said simply. “But you know we’re not going to find anything.”

  Luther looked up as Father Bremmer continued, “As I’ve already said, the bodies have already been removed to Enbridge. But I’m sure his presence still exists here in the graveyard.”

  “Mary thinks so too,” Luther responded.

  After just twenty minutes, an area of soft ground evidenced the place where the coffin once lay.

  Luther sat down disheartened.

  “So we have learnt nothing,” he said.

  The father smiled. “On the contrary, we are certain that his bones are not in his grave – but still here nonetheless.”

  He looked directly at Luther and then at the surrounding stones. “I still feel a malevolent presence.”

  As they returned to the chapel they looked up. Jacob Kramer stared at them from the high window of the tower.

  Scene 6: Deconsecration

  It was an hour before dusk when Luther and the father stood at the gate looking across the graveyard. Wearing his episcopal regalia, the father looked warily at the thorns, spikes and stinging fauna that made up the last eighty feet of the yard.

  “If you are right about Mary’s body, I don’t think there will be much left after 250 years,” he said uncertainly.

  Luther nodded.

  “… And if we find the corpse, it might simply be one that had not been transferred – due to some administrative screw-up.”

  Luther smiled. “That which looks for Mary’s corpse will make no mistake.”

  He looked over at Luther. “This is extremely unorthodox,” he said, and put his hand on the gate.

  “Wait a moment,” Luther said suddenly putting a hand on the father’s shoulder.

  The father looked back and followed Luther’s stare at the tower.

  In the light of the rising moon they could see into the tower window.

  “Good Lord – the portrait’s gone!” the father exclaimed.

  “No. I believe the portrait is still there… but the subject isn’t,” Luther whispered.

  After a further moment, he continued. “This ceremony to remove the barrier…. can’t you do it from out here?”

  The father shook his head. “No. The deconsecration ceremony is quite specific in its requirement of me to walk within the boundary.”

  “Kramer won’t like that; he’s going to want to stop you.”

  The father smiled. “What you say is quite absurd; there is always a logical explanation but if I’m in danger I’m surely no safer from him outside the walls anyway.”

  Luther shook his head. “He won’t leave the graveyard. From his diary, it was clear that he was afraid to leave his domain – he felt protected from the woods. But once inside the walls there is just us and him… and Mary… and he still may be a danger to her… and us. Mary told me we had to destroy his physical presentation and then his bones or his spirit will always persist.”

  “You are planning to remove his protection,” the father said. He smiled. “I wish I had your faith. I’m sure that Kramer is still gazing from his portrait but… the moonlight is probably hitting the glass at an oblique angle obscuring him.”

  Luther took a deep breath, “Father; take this.” Luther raised his arms behind his neck and untied the knot of the neckband. “This may protect you.”

  “What is it?”

  “The neckband mentioned in Kramer’s diary. I think it gave me some protection when Kramer attacked me. It burned him… so we, at least, know that he can feel pain.”

  “And what about you?”

  Luther smiled and touched the hessian bag at his belt. “Mary told me that this would help.”

  The father raised an eyebrow and after a pause he shrugged and tied the neckband in place.

  “You are putting a lot of faith into something only you see or believe in; you think you could hurt a ghost with that bag?”

  Luther’s smile faded. “I very much hope so. Let’s go – and don’t hang back with your words. You need to do this quickly.”

  Scene 7: Kramer

  The father and Luther walked through the gate and into the unkempt graveyard.

  Despite the density of the undergrowth the father managed to ease himself between it and the wall.

  He coughed and looked over at Luther before raising his arms and beginning the deconsecration of the graveyard:

  “This is no longer a sacred place and has by my decree lost its dedication and blessing…” he started.

  As the father spoke Luther kept looking towards the chapel at the window and the vacant portrait.

  “… I do remit this earth, and all objects remaining in it, for any lawful and reputable use, according to…”

  The father stopped and looked around.

  All had become suddenly quiet; the night birds had become silent; the breeze had died and the trees stopped their swaying seemingly in anticipation.

  “Do you think we should continue this in the morning?” the father whispered.

  Then there was a sound like a serpent’s hiss from the tower and a dark amorphous shape drifted slowly down the wall and started towards the father; it coalesced into a tall and gaunt creature that Luther had seen quite recently.

  The father’s mouth fell open. “Good God!”

  “Don’t stop!” Luther shouted rushing forward to intercept.

  The father continued, “… err… reputable… reputable use… according to the laws of this land.”

  Jacob Kramer slowly raised his head and stared at Luther with undisguised hatred.

  “Get out of my way, Witch Spawn!” he spat.

  Luther squared his back and sent his fist at Kramer’s face. To his amazement he connected with Kramer’s jaw, which snapped his head around.

  Despite the power in the blow, Kramer turned his head and stared at Luther.

  “You are as an insect to me… and are quite wrong to think that the neckband will protect him.”

  With that he pushed Luther with such a surprising force that he was thrown several feet away into the undergrowth.

  Dazed and holding his chest, he looked up to see Kramer turn and start towards the father.

  Luther felt pain as he breathed – broken rib, he thought.

  He then caught sight of two dark shadows moving – with seeming purpose – towards the father. Luther’s initial concern dissipated as he watched the black cats move close to the father and sit down on either side before him but facing Kramer, rather like a pair of sentinels.

  Luther felt a little put out; weren’t they his cats after all – weren’t they here to protect him?

  Kramer stopped and snarled at
the cats as Luther watched amazed as the felines leapt at Kramer, each one with claws extended and ripping into the flesh of his face. After some moments, he managed to throw them from him but they landed on their paws and leapt snarling once again at Kramer’s increasingly torn face.

  There was no blood; that had dried up a long time ago.

  A second time the cats were thrown back but this time there was a shimmer and two raven-haired young women appeared beside the cats. Despite their apparent youth, their bright green eyes flashed at Kramer with a warning that made him stop in his tracks.

  Kramer’s red eyes stared wide from his ripped face for a moment as dried flesh hung to his beard. “How are you here?” he hissed before slowly turning his head to look at Luther and the hessian bag at his waist. “Ah, I see.”

  Kramer started towards the father as the latter unsteadily continued his recital but the twins stood their ground.

  “You are finished…” hissed Lizzie, “… your evil time is ended and this time…”

  “… The burning will finish you, Warlock!” finished Jenny.

  “You still dare to insult and mock me!” he snarled. “Do you think me imbecilic? You can do nothing to harm me. You never had any powers unless…”

  “I was near!” said a familiar voice from behind Luther.

  Both Luther and Kramer stopped and looked around in surprise as Mary walked towards them.

  Scene 8: Mary

  Luther watched Mary walk past – more solid he thought when last he saw her.

  “Remember my leaving gift, Kramer?” she hissed. “You may not as you were somewhat preoccupied with the flames eating your face!”

  Kramer’s eyes narrowed. “I remember your hanging corpse and the ashes of your sisters.”

  For a moment, Kramer appeared uncertain as his gnarled hand touched his scarred face, but then “… but you are spirit only,” he spat, “… and so are your sisters,” and then he smiled and started to laugh. “I am both flesh and spirit,” and with that he slapped her face sending her several feet away.

 

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