I'm in the mood to regale you with one of the ghost stories from my ghost walk in London. So, sit, back, and dim the lights to make your environment a little bit more spooky...
This story is set at the Old Doctor Butler's Head Pub which is located down some alley in the financial district in London. This story happened years and years ago, when the streets of London were filled with horses and carriages.
One night a priest was enjoying a pint at the Old Doctor Butler's Head. A cab pulled up in front of the pub, and a lady dressed in black hurried into the pub. She came up to the priest and said "Father, you must come quickly. I know of a man who desparately needs to talk with a priest. He has a grave sin to confess."
The priest could tell that it was a serious situation from the look in her eyes. It was most irregular for someone to approach him in a pub to ask for his services. He quicky finished his pint and followed the lady to the cab. She gave the cab the address and instructed the priest to ask for the master of the house upon arrival.
The priest arrived at the house and knocked on the door. The butler answered. "I've been summoned by the master of the house. He has a desparate need to speak with a priest."
"That's strange," replied the butler. "I'm pretty sure that no such summons has been made. However, I will bring you to speak with the master."
The master was an elderly man; perhaps in his sixities. The priest explained that a woman had directed him to speak to the master of this house because a man was in desperate need to speak with a priest. The master looked somewhat perplexed "Well, I certainly did not send for a priest. I live alone. I can't think of anyone else who may have asked for a priest... unless it was the butler."
The priest shook his head. "Your butler seemed quite unaware of the situation. It could not have been your butler who was in need of me. I travelled quite a long way to be here. Are you sure that you have nothing that you'd like to discuss with me."
"No, I'm sure I do not. I am a very pious man; I have led a godly and just life. I go to church every Sunday and give a generous tithe. My priest knows me well and knows that I try to please God..." The master trailed off. "Well, actually, since you are here... There is one incident that has troubled me for twenty years. I have never dared speak of it to my own priest, because I am so ashamed. But since you are a total stranger, I feel that perhaps I should tell you." The master's face became slightly pale and ashen at the thought of this secret.
"Please tell me this secret my son. I can see from your face that it deeply troubles you. Telling a man of the cloth will help you find redemption in the eyes of God."
"I am a widower," divulged the master. "My wife sadly perished twently years ago. One night we got into a heated argument during which I pushed her away from me. In the heat of my anger, I applied too much force to me and she fell back, hitting her head on the mantle. Her injury proved to be fatal. Her death was recorded as an accident, but... it was my fault. I killed her. I've never told a soul the truth about her death."
The priest took the master's hands in his own. "This is a very grave secret to have kept all of this years. I would like you to come to my church tomorrow. The service is at 10 o'clock. After the service, we can talk more about this and I will pray for you in a house of God. This is a matter of much importance. Please come."
"Oh, I will Father. I will. I've been troubled by this secret for twenty years. I will see you at your church Father." The master thanked the priest profusly for his visit and got directions to his church.
The next day, the priest scanned the congregation for the master. He was not in the church, nor did he come to speak with the priest after the services. The priest felt troubled by the master's absence. He was quite sure that the man was sincere in his desire to talk with him again. He decided that he must return to the house to make sure that the master was well.
He knocked on the door. The butler answered. "Hello sir, I have come again to speak with the master," the priest explained.
"I'm sorry Father. The master passed away in his sleep last night," the butler replied.
The priest was stunned. "May I come in? Perhaps I could give the body a blessing."
"Certainly." The butler lead the priest up the stairs to the master's bedroom, where he was lying in bed. The priest began to pray over the master's body. He noticed that the man looked at peace; during his many years as a priest, he had prayed over many bodies and it was rare to see one that had quite the look of peace as did the master.
While he was finishing his blessing, the priest noticed a framed photograph on the table by the master's bed. He recognized it at once. It was a photograph of the lady who had summoned him to this house the previous evening! He picked it up and brought it to the Butler. "Who is this woman, sir? She was the one who found me in the pub last night and sent me to this house to speak with the master!"
"That is very strange, Father." said the Butler slowly. "This is a photograph of the late mistress of the house who passed away twenty years ago. An accident took her. "
The priest looked at the Butler with wide eyes. "She must have known somehow... she must have known that the Lord was going to summon her husband last night. She knew that he had a grave sin on his soul that he needed to confess... That must be why she summoned me."
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This was probably my favourite ghost story of the "Haunted London" walk I went on. It reminds me a lot of the ghost stories that I read as a kid; they always had some sort of twist ending.
Many summers ago I worked as a summer student in the art gallery in Stratford. Since it was a popular site for tourists, we got a lot of pamphlets about upcoming tourist-y type events in town. I noticed that there was a weekly ghost walk offered for $5. Since I'm a sucker for a ghost story, I thought that it'd be a good alternative to going out for coffee or a movie one night and convinced a couple of friends to go along with me. It was quite well done, I'd wager to say it was slightly better than the one I went on in London only because it probably contained more ghost stories. (The one in London had a lot of historical information too... which was highly enjoyable... but if I was a local looking for spooky stories, I'd be slightly disppointed.) Anyhow, now when I'm in Stratford, I always pass by certain places thinking "There's the poltergeist house" and "Oh look, it's the old haunted orphanage".
Of course, all of this talking of ghosts begs the questions, do
I believe in ghosts? As I've mentioned, I've loved a spooky ghost story since I was a kid, and I've always been attracted to things like Tim Burtons movies (I think deep down, I'm a bit of a goth kid).
But, being the math/science girl that I am, the left side of my brain kicks into action and demands a rational explanation for supernatural phenomena such as ghosts, ghouls and hauntings. One of the most interesting scientific explanations for supposed hauntings that I've heard about it is low frequency standing waves. These are sounds that can be produced by something in an environment that humans are unaware of since they cannot hear them. However, they affect the human body by messing with some of our senses, such as causing our eyes to vibrate; this would explain any weird apparitions that someone could see. Infrasound can also lead to hyperventilation which can cause people to panic and can confuse the senses further. (
Here's a neat article on ghosts and infrasound if you're so inclined.)
Once in my life have I sort of, maybe, thought that I could have encountered a ghost myself. This incident occured a couple years ago when I worked in an isolated community in Northwestern Ontario. The building in which my classroom was located used to be the local nurses' station. It was now divided in two; half was my classroom and the other half was the local computer centre. One afternoon, I had stayed after school to do some work. I thought I was by myself but I could distinctly hear a baby crying. I figured that the director of the computer centre must be next door with her little grandson so I walked through the connecting door to say hello. No one was there. I looked out the window to see if anyone was around but there was no one. Weird. Could it have been the ghost of a baby who may well have died in that building years ago? Or was a low frequency standing wave messing with my perception? Or, maybe I was just working too much...
Soooooo, do you believe in ghosts?
I took this picture of a Welsh beer truck because I found it amusing that the beer was called "Brains".
I saw lots and lots of sheep during my trip.
This is Llangollen, a picturesque town in Northern Wales.