A Ghost’s Demand

This is a well-known ghost legend told faithfully in the southwest mountains of Virginia for 150 years. One account given by a local man in the late 1930s was written down.

A circuit preacher

A preacher caught in a freezing rain one night stopped at a farmhouse to request shelter.

The farmer informed him he had no room, but there was an empty cabin across the field. After supper, the farmer accompanied the preacher to this old house to help him gather wood and light a fire for the night.

Before he left, he told the preacher he hoped he wasn’t afraid of ghosts, for the cabin was haunted. Shrugging off the warning, the preacher placed a chair by the fire’s warmth and read his Bible for a couple of hours.

After he fell asleep, he awoke several hours later, to find the fire had died out. He struck a match to check his watch. Twelve o’clock—midnight.

As he hunkered back down into his bedroll, he heard a loud noise. It sounded as if someone had unloaded a wheelbarrow full of bricks on the roof. He went outside only to find the rain falling softly, and no one else around.

Once back in the cabin, he heard a rooster begin to crow but this sound abruptly stopped, as if something had choked the bird into silence.

Unnerved, the preacher sat down and began to read his Bible once more. He looked up from the book, hearing a loud moan. He couldn’t tell where this sound originated. He stoked the fire and sat back down.

He then heard a series of moans and groans, these cries surrounded him. It sounded like a female sobbing. This woman called something out, which he could not make out. Then the sounds stopped.

The preacher heard footsteps approach the back door. It swung open, and he caught the vague form of a woman who was crying. She faded, and the door slammed shut.

He tried to resume his reading, but the sobbing and moaning began once more. The door opened, and the form appeared once more. This time the preacher invoked a prayer and asked, “What do you want?”

The figure half floated, and half fell, in the direction of where he sat. This spirit then sobbed and grabbed his coat lapels with her hands. She drew her face up close to his. 

She was wearing a dress that was faded and in rags. Her hair was tangled around her face. There were dark empty sockets where her eyes should have been. She didn’t have a nose.

The preacher gasped for breath as he sat frozen in fear. The frightening form spoke. “I want to be properly buried. You’ll find my bones buried over there.” She pointed to the hearth rock, near the fire.

She turned back. “My sweetheart killed me for my money. If you do what I request, and come back tomorrow night, I will tell you were its hid.”

The preacher listened frozen to the spot. “Bury me in the churchyard, all except my little finger on my left hand. Invite all the neighborhood folks to come to supper tomorrow. Put my finger bone on a plate, and pass it around.”

She floated above him. “It’ll stick to the hand of the one who murdered me.” She then sobbed and faded down into the hearth.

The preacher sat in the chair the rest of the night, unable to sleep. The next morning he enlisted the help of the farmer—telling him about what he heard and saw.

The two men dug up her bones and buried them in the cemetery. The preacher performed a solemn funeral service and arranged for an excellent supper that night.

A plate with the finger bone was passed around. When it reached a grey-haired man, it stuck to his hand. He started to holler and tried to get it off, but it held fast.

The man was so horrified, he confessed to the murder, at which point the bone fell to the floor. It was a crime he had committed 40 years before. A week later, he was hanged.

The preacher returned to the cabin once more. The spirit true to her word showed him where the money was hidden. But he was never able to wear his favorite suit coat again. The spirit’s fingers had burned holes right through the lapels.

Norwegian Ghost Tale

A good collection of ghost folktales from Norway were first written down over 200 years ago. 

Several of these originated after the Black Plague had devastated the country. This disease hit Norway harder than the rest of Europe. The result was many of the tales that came out of this period of Norway's history were still being told in the 1800s. 

The following tale, The Midnight Mass of the Dead * is one of these stories.

It was late one Christmas Eve as Adelina sat by her fire; she hoped the firelight would help keep her awake. She wanted to attend the Midnight Mass. But the fire’s warmth had the opposite effect--it lulled her to sleep. She did not wake until she heard the village’s church bells ringing for the start of Mass.

In a panic she ran out of house and down the snow-laden hill. She arrived at the church just as the Mass started. She took a seat and focused upon the priest who stood on the altar.  

She had trouble concentrating as a feeling that something was amiss overtook her. With every breath she exhaled the church seemed to become colder and colder. She noticed that the other parishioners that sat near her seemed pale and motionless.

She wondered at the quiet joyless responses they gave the priest. At Christmas normally people were happy. Halfway through the Mass a feeling of horror clouded her thoughts as she realized what was wrong. 

Everyone that she had recognized in the various pews were villagers who had died. Now she sat frozen afraid to move looking neither left or right.

She felt several sets of eyes glaring at her as many of the dead around her started to grumble under their breath. Shortly before the priest gave his last blessing a neighbor she recognized approached her. This lady had died a few weeks before. 

She took Adelina by the arm and whispered frantically, “You must leave.” Terrified Adelina stayed frozen in place. The neighbor shook her and said, “Go now, before the priest ends his prayer.” “They will kill you.”

Coming to her senses she fled the church and ran up the hill quickly as ghostly footfalls seemed to pursue her. She had no trouble staying awake till sunrise. The next day as she entered the village church only the living were inside and she was able to stay until the Mass ended.

*  Scandinavian Folktales, translated by Jacqueline Simpson

Prince Edward Island: Cemetery Dare

As I have mentioned in other posts it is fascinating how ghost folktales spread from one part of the world to the next. 
Each region that tells these stories insert their own regional flare—to make sure the listener or reader knows the story happened locally. A story is always more compelling if it happened in one’s own backyard. 

In the past I have shared two versions of the traditional folktale about a person who is dared to go to a graveyard at night and leave proof they were actually there. The following story is from Canada and it is one of my favorite versions of this traditional tale. This version leaves the ending to the reader’s imagination—in a way this makes it scarier.

A farmer by the name of Kemp was new to the area having left Scotland to start a new life. He like many other highlanders settled on an island called St. Johns west of Canada in the 1700’s. * He was able to clear his land and plant crops quickly. 

One evening after he finished building his new home he decided to seek company. He found himself at the local general store. He approached a wood-burning stove that several of his neighbors were gathered around. 

Two of the men were hotly debating whether the old French Cemetery was haunted. ** One of them loudly stated that the spirits there were not exactly peaceful. Another man joined the debate reminding the two men that many witnesses including him had seen a strange light floating above a graveyard. 

Kemp breaking into the conversation announced to the group in general that he did not believe in any silly superstitions about ghosts.

At his statement several men shifted uncomfortably—for many of the locals believed something evil was in this cemetery. The group fell silent and then one of the original debaters stated, “If there is only dried bones in that cemetery—then you shouldn’t be afraid to spend the night there.” 

Finding the man’s dare humorous Kemp immediately accepted it. Another member of the group grabbed a pitchfork leaning against the wall and handed it to Kemp. “Here, take this fork and plant it somewhere so we know you actually entered the graveyard.”

As the Scotsman left, the owner of the store called out, "If you do it I will give you several months’ supply of tobacco." The group heard Kemp walking down the road in the dark whistling a tune. 

The next morning Kemp’s wife entered the store frantic—had anyone seen her husband. A small group of men upon hearing her pleas rushed out.

When they entered the cemetery they called out Kemps name but they heard no reply. Uneasy, they started to search the area. 

Within moments a member of the group shouted and pointed toward the pitchfork’s handle standing upright with no apparent support. As the group closed in on the fork they spotted Kemp’s body lying frozen on the ground. 

Kemp’s features seemed to reflect some unseen horror. The terrified men bent down to pick up his body but it resisted. One of them discovered the cause. The pitchfork’s tines were holding Kemp’s coat firmly to the ground.

Frightened, the men left the cemetery quickly. Once back at the store the members of the group pondered—who or what had plunged that pitchfork into the ground after the Scotsman had collapsed. ***

* Prince Edward’s Island at one time was called—St. John’s Island.

** In the 1500’s the island was a French colony. In 1873 it became a part of Canada.

*** This ending is different than other folktales because it leaves what happened to the imagination of the reader. 

Unlike other similar tales it does not have the victim who takes the dare die by their own hand in the cemetery--in other words trapping themselves with a knife or in this case a pitchfork as they plunge it into the ground. Then thinking something evil or ghostly has got them they die of fright.