The Ghost on Church Hill

The old brick house with its gabled roof and stained-glass windows had been converted into a church building. The church was on a hill. A narrow path bordered by wild ferns led up to it from the main street. It looked quite odd among the few cottages scattered here and there in the tiny community of Meadow Valley. Travelers passing by often stopped to take pictures of this Gothic looking church in the middle of ‘nowhere’.

Right behind the church building was a cemetery where members of the church who died were buried. Rumors had it that many years ago, an axe murderer was buried there. Some still held to the belief that on full moon his ghost came out of the cemetery and roamed about. Some said that they heard him sharpening his axe at midnight, but no one had ever seen him. But the residents of Meadow Valley stayed away from Church Hill (as it was called) after dark.

Pastor Ben was the new pastor. The previous pastor had left in quite a hurry, reason unknown. Pastor Ben lived in an adjoining community but was expected to spend every other weekend in Meadow Valley. He would sleep in the vestry of the church which had been converted into a small bedroom/study. His parishioners would provide his meals while he was there. Pastor Ben was okay with the arrangements. He knew about the rumors of the axe murderer, but he said that such superstition had no place in a Christian’s life. Nevertheless, on his first weekend there, he took his wife, Belinda, with him. She was a short fat lady, often lovingly described as a Pillsbury Dumpling after the Ad.

That first Saturday, Pastor Ben and his wife were invited to lunch by one of the church members. The lunch turned out to be more like a big dinner. The meal was good and the conversation very enlightening. Pastor Ben had counselled his wife before they went, “Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut.” This was good advice for any minister going to a new church. You learned a lot from just listening. When lunch was over, Pastor Ben and his wife were given a bag with leftovers to have for supper and a warning to stay indoors with the doors locked, just in case….?

Pastor Ben sat at his desk in the little converted bedroom/study. There was no electricity, but there were enough oil lamps to provide adequate lighting. He was contemplating whether he should modify the sermon he had prepared in light of what he had heard at lunchtime. His wife lay on the bed reading. As if reading his mind, she looked up from her book and said, “Dear, preach the same sermon you planned on preaching. Remember what you always tell me, “Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut.” We don’t know if what you heard today from one family is just gossip or factual. It’s your first sermon and should not be based on hearsay, but on what the Spirit says to you.”

“The axe murderer’s spirit?” Pastor Ben asked jokingly. He put away his notes and decided to go to bed.

The next morning after an eventful and restful sleep they woke to be greeted by a beautiful sunbeam streaming through the window which faced the cemetery. Pastor Ben looked outside. How peaceful it looked! All those graves lying so still side by side, beautiful flowers on the most recent ones, he thought. It looked so very tranquil.

A knock on the door, and a young lad entered carrying a basket. “Morning Pastor. Mi Mum sends breakfast,” he said. Belinda took the basket, thanked the lad and he left.

Later that day after a meaningful and welcoming worship service, Pastor Ben and Belinda were invited to a get-together function. It was a sumptuous meal and most of the church folk were present. They wanted to know if Pastor Ben and his wife were comfortable in the vestry room and if they had slept well. The more forward ones were bold in their questions, “Did you hear any sounds like sharpening tools in the night?” “Did you feel afraid?” “Did any strange sounds wake you up?”

To all the questions, Pastor Ben answered positively and truthfully, “We slept very well thank you and we were comfortable.”

Pastor Ben and Belinda retired early. It had been a busy and tiring day, but productive. Meadow Valley was promising to be a welcome reprieve from the noisy congested community where they lived. They discussed the day’s proceedings as they lay in bed. The congregation was small but there was a lot of room for improvement. There were many families who did not go to church because they believed there was a ghost on Church Hill and were afraid. Pastor Ben fell asleep with a prayer on his mind that the Lord would open a way to convince these people that there is no axe murderer roaming about. 

Pastor Ben awoke to the sound of a howling wind. The building shook and creaked. The sole lamp he had left on with the wick turned down, fluttered and went out. It was pitch dark. The stormy atmosphere with its dark clouds obscured any light from the moon. Pastor Ben felt for his flashlight under the pillow. It was there to hand if he needed it. Satisfied, he snuggled under the covers and tried to sleep. His wife had not even stirred. How could she sleep through the racket that the wind was making outside! Then he heard it. A grating sound, like someone scraping or scratching metal or … sharpening a tool?

“Belinda, wake up. Do you hear it?”

“What? Why is the room so dark? I can’t even see my hand.”

“There is a windstorm and the lamp went out. But listen, what do you hear?”

“I hear a lot of wind. Now go back to sleep, Ben.”

“Listen carefully.”

Belinda was wide awake now. “It is so dark. What time is it?” Pastor Ben took his little flashlight and looked at his watch which was still on his hand. “It is 15 minutes after midnight,” he said with emphasis on ‘midnight’.

Belinda yawned. “Well, it is too dark to do anything. We might as well try to sleep.”

Just then, there was a break in the wind, and an eerie sound like a wail split the air. Belinda grabbed hold of her husband, “What was that?”

  “I don’t know.”

“Maybe it is the axe murderer killing somebody,” she said jokingly.

“You’re joking, but suppose it’s really a ghost?” Pastor Ben sounded scared. "There are lots of things we don't know about the spirit world."

“Well, peek outside the window and see what's making that sound.” Belinda said, “You don’t really believe there is a ghost, do you? ‘Superstition has no place in a Christian’s life’,” she quoted.

       Just then they heard it again. A scraping noise, like someone scratching metal or … sharpening a tool? “There’s a reasonable explanation for that sound,” Belinda said out loud. “Ben, look through the window and see what it is.”

         “Why don’t you look? I’m not that curious. I wonder if the last pastor heard that sound,” Pastor Ben mused. “He left suddenly you know, and nobody knew why.”

The scraping sound got louder. It seemed nearer to the window this time. Pastor Ben started to pray, holding his wife tightly in his arms.

“Ben, don’t be so scared. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” she repeated.

“How can she remain so calm?” Pastor Ben thought to himself, but continued to pray, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name….”

         The sound stopped. There was dead silence.

“Shh! Shh!” Belinda whispered. “His axe is sharpened enough now, and he is coming to get you, Ben. You better run!” she teased.

          Ben had nothing to say. His wife did not believe about any axe murderer coming out the tomb. He didn’t either but there was a niggling doubt forming in his mind. So he listened and waited, his arm frozen around his wife’s torso. Her body was relaxed, and soon small snores were escaping from her lips. “How could she fall asleep so easily!”

The strange noises outside had ceased and so had the rain. Pastor Ben looked at his watch. It was now 1:55am. The rest of the night passed slowly. During the fitful and intermittent sleep that the remaining hours allowed, Pastor Ben dreamed of ghosts and murderers. 

The bright sunlight that shone through the window was a welcomed start to the new day. Pastor Ben dragged himself out of bed. He looked outside. How peaceful it looked! All those graves lying so still side by side so very tranquil. Did last night really happen? Or was it a nightmare? Belinda jumped out of bed full of energy. She put her arms around her husband and quoted, “This is the day that the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it.”

             “Thank you, my dear, thanks for reminding me,” Pastor Ben visibly relaxed.

             After breakfast, Belinda announced, “I am going to investigate the noise we heard last night.”

             Pastor Ben looked alarmed, and then he smiled. He did not want his wife to see how panicked he felt inside. “Are you going to investigate the axe murderer’s activities last night, Dear?” He forced his voice to be casual.

             “Yes, Ben, come with me,” she said. So, together they went outside towards the cemetery. It was cool and peaceful. Nothing seemed disturbed. Belinda, who read a lot of detective novels, began looking on the ground for footprints.

             “Ghosts don’t leave footprints,” Pastor Ben said, “and if they did, the rain last night would have washed them away.”

             Belinda ignored him. They came to a spot where the earth was quite dry. “Look here, Ben, here’s some kind of imprint. Isn’t this a hoof print?”

             Pastor Ben stooped down and examined the spot. “Yes, dear. This definitely is a hoof mark. Looks like a calf or a horse. Here’s another one. These look freshly made.”

              “Let us follow them and see where they lead,” Belinda said.

The sun was shining brightly now and the animal hoofs looked clearer. After they walked a few yards they heard a donkey braying. Then they saw it in a bush nearby. A rope was dangling from its neck. It seemed to have gotten away from its owner.

             It was getting late and they had to pack to go back home. So Pastor Ben and Belinda decided to go back to their room. Belinda was disappointed that she had not solved the mystery of the ‘axe murderer’ roaming at night, but she vowed that next time she came to Meadow Valley she would, even if she had to go out in the middle of the night to investigate.

             As they approached the building, Pastor Ben noticed a few more hoof marks leading up to the vestry wall, where the eaves formed an overhang projecting from the rooftop. The ground here was quite dry and the hoof prints were plain. The wall itself, protected by the eave overhang, was dry but there were some wet spots that discolored the wall. He looked a little closer. He found a few animal hairs.

             “Belinda,” he called excitedly, before she entered the building, “I have solved the mystery. There is no axe murderer ghost. That donkey got away during the rain and came under this eave for shelter. It was rubbing its hide against the walls. See the hoof prints here, and some donkey hairs on the wall. That was the scratching sound we heard like the sharpening of a tool. Sounds seem louder at night, you know.”

             “So, there is nothing to be afraid of,” Belinda said. “We need to let people know that.” 

“Yes, dear,” said Pastor Ben. “We will, but it is going to take a while and some convincing before they accept that there is no ghost on Church Hill.