The Forgotten Books
It makes a change for me, nowadays, to get out of the city and enjoy the countryside, mother nature at her best. I’m about to meet a man who claims to have seen a sheep, "beamed upwards," by aliens.
What a load of old codswallop you might say but, its my job to report these things, if I didn’t do this, my wage would stop coming in and I wouldn’t be able to afford life’s little luxuries like, my battered old land-rover or my terraced house in Undercliffe.
I’m meeting him in The Old Glen House, on the top of Shipley Glen, not far from where this abduction took place. His name is Andy Scott, before you think anything, don’t say it! ‘Beam me up Scotty.’ I’d already thought of that.
Strange, when you’ve never met somebody, they have this invisible aura that only you can see, I suppose being the only customer in the pub, at this time in the morning, might have something to do with it.
‘Andy Scott,’ he looked at me, ‘you must be Jason Kelly from the newspapers’ he said, ‘lets find a quiet table to sit and chat,’ I looked around and thought, just pick any direction and you wont go wrong.
I got out my notebook and Dictaphone, I always bring the latter in case I mishear what’s being said. ‘Right, let us start at the beginning, in your own words Andy.’ He gave me a run down of what he thought he saw, how he came out of the pub late at night, he saw this bright light in the sky, looking towards Eldwick.
I know for a fact the sheep run free on the moors, there are cattle grids to stop them running riot but they are just happy to stay and graze.
Then he told me how he saw a beam of light shine down and how he saw a sheep or something being ‘beamed upwards.’ I asked him if he’d had a few drinks, he said one or two like.
After he had told me of this strange encounter, I thanked him and told him I’d look into it all. To be honest I don’t think it was anything unaccountable for, in fact it was probably either a police helicopter using their spotlight or maybe the Air Ambulance.
As I was getting back into my Land-rover, the acoustic part of Stairway To Heaven played beautifully by Jimmy Page was heard, coming from my mobile phone, ‘hi mum’, ‘just wondering if you’re coming over for dinner on Sunday, you can bring your lady friend if you want’, ‘do you mean Lydia, mum’, ‘oh is that her name, yes bring Lydia’, ‘I’ll see what she’s doing, I have to get off now but will see you then, love to you and dad’, ‘and to you son’. My mother was still a bit funny when she was talking on mobile phones, she was old fashioned that way, always abrupt and serious, no small talk, straight to the point.
By the time I reached Shipley town centre it was knocking on for dinnertime, so I treated my self to a burger at MacDonalds, nothing but the high life for me. After, I made my way to Greengates, another exotic location of Bradford.
Sometimes, my work and social life collided with each other, I had received word from my boss, at The Bradford Star, there was ghostly going’s on at an old house in Greengates. This particular building, ( Lumber’s Hall ) was well documented for hauntings going back hundreds of years. I knew all of this because of my own personal findings as a local historian.
Back in 1699, the building was built for the local land owner, apparently he was quite a ruthless man, he was a wife beater and not at all nice to his children. On his deathbed he cursed the house and anyone who lived there. For the next 100 years his future generations lived there and yes they were blighted with sudden deaths, freak accidents and strange occurrences. Eventually around the year 1802, they sold up and moved far away from the hall.
The house remained empty for a number of years until a local mill owner bought it and moved in. Where the building stood, it overlooked the Leeds and Liverpool canal, which was purposely built for mills, like his own, to carry the wool to the port and eventually overseas. He was a very friendly man with a wife, who he adored and 3 children, 2 girls and a boy. At first all was well, without warning, strange noises were heard during the night, he put it down to the old piping so he got them removed and replaced them. The two girls shared the same bedroom, as one of them was afraid of the dark. One night, they both woke up at the same time, one of the rocking chairs had started to move. They got up as one and ran to their parents bedroom screaming in terror. That was the beginning of the end, other strange things happened like hearing footsteps when there was no one there, objects moving from one place to another. In the end up, for fear of their lives, the family moved out of Lumber’s Hall.
The house stayed empty till 1920, a gentleman by the name of Peter Greene, bought it, he was a bachelor, thought to be a scientist of sorts, though very mysterious in his looks and behaviour. Rumour was, he was a friend of the infamous Aleister Crowley, the self acclaimed devil. It was documented ‘he had wild parties till the early hours of the morning’, gossip at the time also said, ‘people in dark clothes and cloaks came to visit him’. Although these were all rumours going around the village, people were still weary of going near the hall. He lived there until 1934 when they found him, hanging by his neck in the main hall. Again the house stayed empty until 1970. The Greengates Rural Museum was founded and exhibited local historian artifacts and the like. They are still there with some really good pieces on show, now and again I go down and help them out with any talks they are having, which is why I am now on my way there.
As I pulled up at the hall, the curator was waiting for me in the vestibule. The hall itself was quite a domineering gothic like building, set in its own grounds, a short gravel driveway led to a small carpark. Inside, the hallway was all mahogany, most places have this aura about them, this one was a feeling of uneasiness or dread.
‘Hi Jason’, ‘how's it going Bob’ I said, to one of my old colleagues, ‘you know this place, there is always something going bump, in the middle of the night’, we both smiled at his last remark. ‘What happened this time’, ‘upstairs, in the library’ he said. We made our way up to the first floor, the timber floor boards creaking as we passed over them, the library was in the west wing. ‘I take it something has happened’, ‘yes, certain book’s have been placed in the wrong order, you know we have a certain filing system’, ‘yes’ I said, knowing that I helped in its creation. ‘Are you sure its not kids having a lark about’, ‘I wish it was, but every time it happens, we put them back in the rightful place’ said Bob.
‘Is it the same books, or are they different each time it happens’, ‘no, the same books every time’.
I picked up one of the books, which had been put down on one of the little tables used for decoration, strange I got this funny feeling, as though some one or thing had been sat at the table reading it, I looked at the cover. The Professor by Charlotte Bronte, my mind started working overtime, had we been visited by a Bronte ghost?. Back to reality, ‘you know Bob, without thinking too much, this book reminds me of the supposedly scientist, Peter Greene, The Professor’, “honestly, I never thought of that but yes, you could be right”. We put the book in its rightful place and had a wander around the rest of the building. By the time we had finished, the daylight had turned to dusk, at 6 o’clock it was getting dark early, in October.
By the time I got back to my home in Undercliffe, it was way past 8 o’clock, me and Bob had been chatting and digesting what had been happening at the museum, not just these latest one’s but all the others. As we talked, a séance came into the conversation, but would that be wise, given the history of the hall.
When I had a quick shower, I came down stairs looked in the mirror and imagined The Fonz from Happy Days, yes I do watch retro TV, I opened my trusty old laptop and wrote all my days work onto The Star’s worksheets. With it being Friday, I had the weekend to myself, well nearly.
Tomorrow I had a walkabout in the cemetery, it was a regular event I did for the Local Historian Society. Undercliffe Cemetery was a hive of information for anyone interested in Bradford’s long industrial past and its famous and infamous citizens.
I heard a knock on the outer door, it opened and in walked Lydia. ‘Let me guess, you stood in front of the mirror, splayed your arms out and said, HHHEEEYYYYYYY!’. I smiled back at this gorgeous, 26 year old, long haired blonde, who I met when covering a story a few month back. She always dressed so elegantly, no matter what the occasion, to the unknowing eye we were the perfect couple but alas we were just good friends, though I would like us to be more but I don’t want to push it.
I’m 25 years old, at 6ft 2 inches, slim, clean shaven, like to knock about in Wrangler jeans and a t-shirt, though I do occasionally smarten myself up, the only time I need glasses are for reading. ‘So do you fancy going out for a meal OR do you want to stay in for a cosy exotic dinner in’, she replied, ‘I’ll settle for a take-away curry from the usual’.
After our meal we sat on the couch, I put some soft rock on and we talked about what I’d been up to during the day, Lydia, worked at one of the many office’s in the city centre, no matter what we chat about, we never get bored with each other. I asked her what her plans were for the weekend, ‘nothing doing’, ‘how about a night in Haworth with me’, ‘Its about time you started getting a bit romantic, I was beginning to worry about you’, to my surprise she leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. How the hell do I tell her, we will be staying with my mum and dad.
Later that night…
“And here lies Sir Anthony Gadie, he was a military officer and one of Bradford’s Mayors also an MP, he was born in 1868 and died in 1948.
I look around and I’m talking to myself in the cemetery, hell its misty tonight...”where did you come from”, a figure has just appeared about 20 yards from where I’m stood.
What is he pointing at?
I need to see, I know curiosity killed the cat...but !
Where the hell did the guy go to?
WHO THE HELL IS Ellis Bell?
‘SSSSSSSHHHHHHH SSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH, its alright, you’re in bed with me and its safe’, ‘you had a bad dream, that’s all’. Talk about waking up with a sweat, even if it is October.
‘Well, did you eventually get to sleep’, ‘I did, thanks love’ I said to Lydia. We were having a light breakfast, due to me getting ready for my historic walk around the cemetery. ‘When I come back, how about we go for a pub lunch, then we’ll make our way to Haworth’, ‘sounds like a plan, though I do need to go back to mine, for some stay over things’.
I met up with my group at the main gates, I greeted them in my usual witty way, when we started walking a little mist started forming, even though it was 10 in the morning, the mist gave it an eerie setting, normally I’d be happy with that as it would get their minds working too but, after my dream last night, I felt unsettled.
I started them on the guided tour, in the usual part of the cemetery, as we got to the overgrown part I felt a presence, out of the corner of my eye I saw a glimpse of a face of someone who wasn’t in our party, he just felt out of place. Maybe it might have been the way he was dressed, or his demeanour, as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t make me understand. I looked at him fully and encouraged him to speak, everyone turned as one, confused at first then they looked back at me, without warning, he had gone. I apologised to all, as they must have thought I was mad, maybe I was.
As we sat down to our meals in The Raggalds Inn, I told Lydia about the walk around and the strange occurrence, she said, ‘are you sure your imagination wasn’t running riot’, ‘you did have a bad dream last night’. I pondered on that, while munching on a piece of celery. ‘On the subject of strange happenings’, she looked at me confused, ‘I have a little confession’, I took a big breath, ‘we are staying with my parents in Haworth’, she seemed to relax then and said, ‘is that the confession, I thought it was going to be serious’.
The Kelly mansion, as I like to call it, is a four bedroom detached terraced house on the main street, it has been in our family for generations, owned outright.
By the time we got there, it was late afternoon, with it being a tourist location Haworth was always busy, no matter what the weather. I managed to park my car at the side of the house as usual, no sooner had we got to the door, it opened, ‘Hiya son, is this your girlfriend’, ‘mum, rather than standing on the doorstep embarrassing both Lydia and me, can we come in first’. We all entered the kitchen, ‘hiya dad’, he was sat at the table, cup of tea in hand. ‘If you want, put your bags in the hallway and you can take them upstairs later’, he gave me a knowing look, ‘sit down the both of you, would you like a cuppa’ my mother asked, we both nodded.
Before we had our evening meal, Lydia and myself went for a walk up towards the church, it was getting dark early but in Haworth, all was safe. As we were nearing the graveyard, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a figure, it was a girl in a shimmering white night gown, I turned to Lydia ‘its a bit called for that one over there isn’t it’, she looked to where I had turned and the figure had gone, ‘is your imagination running riot again’ she laughed. I’m sure I hadn’t imagined her, she was there and now I come to think about it, she had a book in her hand.
Back at the house after our nice long walk, we settled down to my mother’s special fry up, forget about the calories, once full we retired to the sitting room. ‘So how did you two meet,’ as I said before, my mother is always straight to the point, I looked at Lydia and prompted her, ‘Jason was covering a story I was partly involved in, and we just hit it off,’ ‘what wa…,’ I cut my mother’s next words by saying, ‘I can’t remember what it was now,’ I did, but I wasn’t going to embarrass Lydia. After we had all enjoyed the evening together and a good bottle of wine or two, we said our good-night's. Earlier I took the bags upstairs, my father let me know him and my mother had a chat about sleeping arrangements, she was going to separate us but he had told her to wake up, he’s not a kid any more.
‘I do like your parents, even though your mother is straightforward,’ ‘she definitely is’ I replied. No matter what Lydia wears she looked stunning in her black baby doll nightie, ‘when we get back to mine, please wear that,’ ‘when we get back to yours, I wont be wearing anything,’ I smiled at the thought. I’m afraid it a well known saying, ‘not to tonight, Josephine,’ it just didn’t feel right in my parents house. We gave each other a big kiss good night and went to sleep.
Why do you look so familiar, where have I seen you before?
She was skipping down the cobbled road from The Parsonage, her tight curled hair bouncing lightly with the movement, was that a book she is carrying, held to her chest. She couldn’t have been more than 15 years of age but she had a mature smile on her face.
I followed her, she never saw or even felt my presence, it was as though I was watching a movie, next we were in the grave yard, now I remember you, I saw you stood where you are now, except...this is just a dream., isn’t it!
How can you feel the cold in a dream, it seemed so real, how does one tell if he is still sleeping or if he has got out of bed and walked up here with out any one knowing.
The girl looked at me and with a finger, indicated me to come to where she was, when I got nearer her features seemed to glow brightly but there was a transparency about them, as though I could see right through her.
No sooner had I got to where she was, she turned and started to walk behind the church, she stopped beside a wall, took a few of the stones out , around these parts of the country there were no cement, it was all dry stone walls., she then placed the book inside a cavity and replaced the stones.
Next we were outside the Parsonage, she looked at me and without opening her mouth, “REMEMBER” came into my head, “DON’T FORGET”.
‘THANK GOD FOR THAT!’ Lydia got her phone out and said, ‘I’ve found him, were at the Parsonage,’ ‘you scared the hell out of me and your parents, I never knew you walked in your sleep,’ ‘What...where,,,am I still dreaming,’ ‘no you silly sod, you’re not, I noticed you weren’t at the side of me,’ ‘I waited a few minutes, got out of bed and couldn’t find you,’ ‘your parents must have heard me and we all started panicking,’ ‘at least we have found you, can we go home now before we wake the rest of the living and maybe the dead.’
Back at the house I apologised to my parents, ‘I’ve never walked in my sleep before,’ now I thought on, was it a dream or could there be something more supernatural about it. What did I have to remember, just then a book fell of the bookcase, I picked it up and read the title, ‘Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell,’ ‘where did you get this book from,’ my father replied ‘I sent away for it, I now have the complete works of all the Bronte sister’s, why?’
Ellis Bell I thought, it then dawned on me, this was the pseudonym of Emily Bronte, have I been haunted by her?
The realisation slammed into me like a 10 ton bus, it all came back to me, the book that fell off the bookcase in the museum by Charlotte Bronte, the grave stone in the cemetery Ellis Bell, The Parsonage, the girl with old fashioned dress and looks, oh my God, it all fit!
‘I know this might sound crazy to you all but I need to go to the graveyard right away,’ my parents looked at me as though I had gone crazy, maybe I had, strange Lydia didn’t, in fact she got her coat on before I got mine. ‘I’m obviously coming with you’ she said.
To the normal observer, we would have looked a strange sight, rushing up to the graveyard in the middle of the night, at least we had a full moon so all was bright. When we got there I said to Lydia, ‘we need to go to the rear of the church by the wall,’ she looked at me puzzled but never asked for an explanation. Luckily, Lydia had the foresight to bring a torch, she switched it on as it was darker where we stood, I started taking stones out where I had been shown to look, I found the cavity and sure enough there was a book of some kind, ‘oh my God, its here,’ I brought it out and showed Lydia, we both looked at each other and laughed.
I then felt a shiver run down my spine, I looked beyond Lydia and saw a young girl, the same one I saw earlier, shimmering and glowing in white, only this time she had a radiant smile on her face. In my thoughts I heard her saying, ‘thank you.’
