| Author: | Rod Papworth | ISBN: | 1230001437850 |
| Publisher: | FeyWitch | Publication: | November 21, 2016 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Rod Papworth |
| ISBN: | 1230001437850 |
| Publisher: | FeyWitch |
| Publication: | November 21, 2016 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
This story, is basically about the intense love shared between true soul-mates, and as a necessary part of the storyline, some chapters contain references to the sex activity between the lovers, with some descriptions which may be deemed to be unsuitable for young readers under the age of 18.
The Haunting Inn
of Witches End
By
Roderick C. Papworth.
Chapter 1: Once upon a time ...
I suppose all stories about mystical happenings and ghosts should begin : ‘once upon a time there were some children.......’ well, NOT this one ! .... that’s the traditional start for make-up stories, children’s books maybe, sometimes referred to as faerie tales.
The story you are about to read however, is much more truthful and real, there are no monsters, vampires or ghouls, this is about a haunting by a building, The Witches End Inn and the people whose lives were manipulated by the ghostly Inn and its keepers for their own end, that of existing again in earthly form.
But first, Ghosts!...
What are they ? often thought to be glimpses of the past, images of people who have died and gone, and yet, to those of us who are gifted with the sight to see them, ghosts can still be seen, reported to ‘haunt us’ from behind the veil of death.
They are seen going about their existence as they would have done in their earthly lives, showing no sign of recognition of us or our modern environment at all, if we take a moment to consider this interaction we might wonder, who is haunting who ? maybe it’s us who are doing the haunting by looking into a world that is normally hidden from us, in a way, a bit like watching others through our modern CCT devices. Anyway, to give a name to this hidden world, I have called it ‘The Gap’ .
When the gap becomes transparent to us, overlaying our world, we see the ghostly beings that are there going about their existence, they carry lanterns in the night that still show their flickering light, walk through our modern walls where once there was a door long since bricked up or maybe there was no wall at all in the time of their lives.
Sightings have reported ghosts seen walking on floors and ground that they would have used in life rather than on the existing levels, changed by building or landscape over many years. for instance, Florence Nightingale is sometimes seen to still walk the wards, but she appears to walk on the original floor which in her time was several inches below the floor that now exists. A line of Monks in Suffolk can sometimes be seen in the night following a path up a low hill to their monastery. That building may still exist for them, yet to us it was pulled down long ago and is now just a flat field with no path.
Now, that's all very well but there is much more to the concept of ghosts than just a lot of people who don’t seem to know that they are dead ! It’s easy to think of ghosts as the un-resting spirit of once living animal life, but, everything, without exception can be seen in its ghostly form, that is to say, ghostly people don’t appear naked, they are fully dressed, they carry objects and are seen to ride in coaches drawn by horses, doing all the activities they did in life and with any of the paraphernalia that they once used, therefore, whatever the object, it may be seen in its ghostly form.
So, with this in mind, this story follows a very strange haunting, very far from the normal concept of ghosts, this story is different !
The circumstances that led to the Witches End Inn’s haunting started over 400 years ago, 1615 AD to be exact, for that was the year when the very fine Inn was built that was to become the subject of this story.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A newly married couple, John and Grace, acquired a small, rough plot of land on a windswept hillside above the village where they grew up. They had been together ever since anyone could remember, they grew up together sharing a friendship few people could understand, but many envied. Without exception, everyone expected them to marry.
Now they were married, both knew they wanted to be Inn keepers, just like their parents before them. No, that’s not quite right, they wanted to be better than their parents. They wanted to build an Inn that would become the life and soul of happiness, love and well being for everyone.
So they made ready the land, purchased what they needed and began building.
Using wood, stone and horsehair, with some friends to help, they put their hard work, sweat and love into the Inns creation. In keeping with a wiccan way of life, a dead bird was hidden inside the wall above the front door for protection, runes were scratched in the stonework to attract paying travellers to call and stay, and still more to repel violent or criminal types. A Besom was placed beside the back door to sweep out the ‘negative forces’ and the dust left by not-so-well meaning spirits.
When the Inn was at last complete, they named it : 'The Witches End Inn'. The Inn stood proud, proclaiming it's name on a sign which hung from a tall post by the small front gate. It was a happy place, overlooking the fells near the top of a hill in the area we now call the lake district. Reached only by the small lane which gave the Inn it's name, in turn, the lane earned its name 'Witches End' from the burning post which brought about the end of many unfortunate victims, men, women and even some children, all condemned to the fire, accused of witchcraft.
For those of us who are invited, the lane may still be found to this very day, winding its way up the hillside from the village below, leading to the Inn, and the end of a long, invisible Ley-line which signposted the Inns magical existence .
The Inn was well built, comfortable, warm, light and welcoming to all, a place where troubles and stress were left outside, within its walls there was always laughter, dance and singing, all helped along by an ample supply of drink. It was therefore a happy place to be where everyone looked after each other, no matter if one was poor, somehow good food and drink would be provided without charge, people seemed to be changed in some way just by being there... in fact, the very fabric of the building seemed to live.
As the years rolled gently by, Grace and Johns happiness was made complete when on the sixth day of August, 1625, Grace gave birth to a daughter who they named Hazel. The following years passed with much happiness, life was good.
But, when Hazel was just ten, there came an end to the happy lives they led, a turn in their good times as John, became very ill. Within the year, John’s health had hit rock bottom, there was no more that could be done and he died..
Absolute devastation took over Grace and Hazel’s lives and a sad blackness dominated The Inn for the next 5 years, then, A man named Lezah came to the Inn. Somehow, light seemed to come again to cut through the black sadness and slowly happiness returned. It was not long before it became clear that Hazel and Lezah shared a spirit bond that locked them together with a passion that others would only dream of, except that for Grace, she saw only to clearly, just as it had been between Grace and John, and she so missed that.
Hazel was just seventeen when they were married, a quiet wiccan wedding in Lezah’s home town of Lowestoft with just a few close friends was all that was possible. But now The blackness had gone ! And life was again good.
This Inn had a character and a will of its own, gently bending it's owners to its needs, it was excited just to exist. Sometimes, it would have a little fun, it would jam the front door on a cold day quietly sniggering at the owners attempts to get it open, Often loudly creaking a floorboard when Lezah crept down to the bar in the night for a drink or puffing smoke back down the chimney just when Grace was making up the fire were other favourite tricks... Hazel was quite strict and did not take kindly to tricks, so, since she cleaned and looked after the Inn, it did not dare play tricks on her very often .... sometimes it did get it’s friend the wind to give a little whistle when Hazel bent down to pick something up, then to make strange laughing sounds to show it's pleasure for what it had done. Anyway, Hazel did have a cute behind and Grace with a soot black face was a sight indeed to be a cause of mirth.
...............................................
Despite the happiness found inside, the Inn was a slightly sinister looking building with its overhanging upper floor, a squeaky sign and rugged pathway to the door. A short way down the hill there was a witches burning post where convicted witches were tied and burnt to the shouts and jeers of the crowd, always to the preaching of the appointed local witch hunter.
The victims having been tried and found guilty, or in most cases, just told they were guilty of witchcraft, were then dragged screaming up the lane on the end if a rope, the question of guilt did not matter, everyone wanted a good night out, driven on by the witch hunter and his incessant preaching, the crowd was urged into a frenzy, when the hunter was ready and he could see that the crowds anger and mood was right, he commanded that his innocent victim be stripped naked and tied to the post on top of the stone hearth, wood was piled up around them and set alight. A small potato or apple was often forced into the victims mouth by the hunter so they were not able to escape the pain of being burned to death by screaming. The hunter said nothing about the invisible gag, instead telling the people that the condemned person proved their guilt by not feeling the pain, hence they did not scream out as the flames burnt their flesh away. These terrible punishments were mostly carried out on a solstice or equinox night, or even a full moon if need be, in order to cleanse the victims soul, was the claim of the hunter. knowing full well that such nights were sacred to the people, he made use of those special nights to his own ends, that of adding insult to the people and know that no one could object... least they too would feel the warmth of his flames.
This story, is basically about the intense love shared between true soul-mates, and as a necessary part of the storyline, some chapters contain references to the sex activity between the lovers, with some descriptions which may be deemed to be unsuitable for young readers under the age of 18.
The Haunting Inn
of Witches End
By
Roderick C. Papworth.
Chapter 1: Once upon a time ...
I suppose all stories about mystical happenings and ghosts should begin : ‘once upon a time there were some children.......’ well, NOT this one ! .... that’s the traditional start for make-up stories, children’s books maybe, sometimes referred to as faerie tales.
The story you are about to read however, is much more truthful and real, there are no monsters, vampires or ghouls, this is about a haunting by a building, The Witches End Inn and the people whose lives were manipulated by the ghostly Inn and its keepers for their own end, that of existing again in earthly form.
But first, Ghosts!...
What are they ? often thought to be glimpses of the past, images of people who have died and gone, and yet, to those of us who are gifted with the sight to see them, ghosts can still be seen, reported to ‘haunt us’ from behind the veil of death.
They are seen going about their existence as they would have done in their earthly lives, showing no sign of recognition of us or our modern environment at all, if we take a moment to consider this interaction we might wonder, who is haunting who ? maybe it’s us who are doing the haunting by looking into a world that is normally hidden from us, in a way, a bit like watching others through our modern CCT devices. Anyway, to give a name to this hidden world, I have called it ‘The Gap’ .
When the gap becomes transparent to us, overlaying our world, we see the ghostly beings that are there going about their existence, they carry lanterns in the night that still show their flickering light, walk through our modern walls where once there was a door long since bricked up or maybe there was no wall at all in the time of their lives.
Sightings have reported ghosts seen walking on floors and ground that they would have used in life rather than on the existing levels, changed by building or landscape over many years. for instance, Florence Nightingale is sometimes seen to still walk the wards, but she appears to walk on the original floor which in her time was several inches below the floor that now exists. A line of Monks in Suffolk can sometimes be seen in the night following a path up a low hill to their monastery. That building may still exist for them, yet to us it was pulled down long ago and is now just a flat field with no path.
Now, that's all very well but there is much more to the concept of ghosts than just a lot of people who don’t seem to know that they are dead ! It’s easy to think of ghosts as the un-resting spirit of once living animal life, but, everything, without exception can be seen in its ghostly form, that is to say, ghostly people don’t appear naked, they are fully dressed, they carry objects and are seen to ride in coaches drawn by horses, doing all the activities they did in life and with any of the paraphernalia that they once used, therefore, whatever the object, it may be seen in its ghostly form.
So, with this in mind, this story follows a very strange haunting, very far from the normal concept of ghosts, this story is different !
The circumstances that led to the Witches End Inn’s haunting started over 400 years ago, 1615 AD to be exact, for that was the year when the very fine Inn was built that was to become the subject of this story.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A newly married couple, John and Grace, acquired a small, rough plot of land on a windswept hillside above the village where they grew up. They had been together ever since anyone could remember, they grew up together sharing a friendship few people could understand, but many envied. Without exception, everyone expected them to marry.
Now they were married, both knew they wanted to be Inn keepers, just like their parents before them. No, that’s not quite right, they wanted to be better than their parents. They wanted to build an Inn that would become the life and soul of happiness, love and well being for everyone.
So they made ready the land, purchased what they needed and began building.
Using wood, stone and horsehair, with some friends to help, they put their hard work, sweat and love into the Inns creation. In keeping with a wiccan way of life, a dead bird was hidden inside the wall above the front door for protection, runes were scratched in the stonework to attract paying travellers to call and stay, and still more to repel violent or criminal types. A Besom was placed beside the back door to sweep out the ‘negative forces’ and the dust left by not-so-well meaning spirits.
When the Inn was at last complete, they named it : 'The Witches End Inn'. The Inn stood proud, proclaiming it's name on a sign which hung from a tall post by the small front gate. It was a happy place, overlooking the fells near the top of a hill in the area we now call the lake district. Reached only by the small lane which gave the Inn it's name, in turn, the lane earned its name 'Witches End' from the burning post which brought about the end of many unfortunate victims, men, women and even some children, all condemned to the fire, accused of witchcraft.
For those of us who are invited, the lane may still be found to this very day, winding its way up the hillside from the village below, leading to the Inn, and the end of a long, invisible Ley-line which signposted the Inns magical existence .
The Inn was well built, comfortable, warm, light and welcoming to all, a place where troubles and stress were left outside, within its walls there was always laughter, dance and singing, all helped along by an ample supply of drink. It was therefore a happy place to be where everyone looked after each other, no matter if one was poor, somehow good food and drink would be provided without charge, people seemed to be changed in some way just by being there... in fact, the very fabric of the building seemed to live.
As the years rolled gently by, Grace and Johns happiness was made complete when on the sixth day of August, 1625, Grace gave birth to a daughter who they named Hazel. The following years passed with much happiness, life was good.
But, when Hazel was just ten, there came an end to the happy lives they led, a turn in their good times as John, became very ill. Within the year, John’s health had hit rock bottom, there was no more that could be done and he died..
Absolute devastation took over Grace and Hazel’s lives and a sad blackness dominated The Inn for the next 5 years, then, A man named Lezah came to the Inn. Somehow, light seemed to come again to cut through the black sadness and slowly happiness returned. It was not long before it became clear that Hazel and Lezah shared a spirit bond that locked them together with a passion that others would only dream of, except that for Grace, she saw only to clearly, just as it had been between Grace and John, and she so missed that.
Hazel was just seventeen when they were married, a quiet wiccan wedding in Lezah’s home town of Lowestoft with just a few close friends was all that was possible. But now The blackness had gone ! And life was again good.
This Inn had a character and a will of its own, gently bending it's owners to its needs, it was excited just to exist. Sometimes, it would have a little fun, it would jam the front door on a cold day quietly sniggering at the owners attempts to get it open, Often loudly creaking a floorboard when Lezah crept down to the bar in the night for a drink or puffing smoke back down the chimney just when Grace was making up the fire were other favourite tricks... Hazel was quite strict and did not take kindly to tricks, so, since she cleaned and looked after the Inn, it did not dare play tricks on her very often .... sometimes it did get it’s friend the wind to give a little whistle when Hazel bent down to pick something up, then to make strange laughing sounds to show it's pleasure for what it had done. Anyway, Hazel did have a cute behind and Grace with a soot black face was a sight indeed to be a cause of mirth.
...............................................
Despite the happiness found inside, the Inn was a slightly sinister looking building with its overhanging upper floor, a squeaky sign and rugged pathway to the door. A short way down the hill there was a witches burning post where convicted witches were tied and burnt to the shouts and jeers of the crowd, always to the preaching of the appointed local witch hunter.
The victims having been tried and found guilty, or in most cases, just told they were guilty of witchcraft, were then dragged screaming up the lane on the end if a rope, the question of guilt did not matter, everyone wanted a good night out, driven on by the witch hunter and his incessant preaching, the crowd was urged into a frenzy, when the hunter was ready and he could see that the crowds anger and mood was right, he commanded that his innocent victim be stripped naked and tied to the post on top of the stone hearth, wood was piled up around them and set alight. A small potato or apple was often forced into the victims mouth by the hunter so they were not able to escape the pain of being burned to death by screaming. The hunter said nothing about the invisible gag, instead telling the people that the condemned person proved their guilt by not feeling the pain, hence they did not scream out as the flames burnt their flesh away. These terrible punishments were mostly carried out on a solstice or equinox night, or even a full moon if need be, in order to cleanse the victims soul, was the claim of the hunter. knowing full well that such nights were sacred to the people, he made use of those special nights to his own ends, that of adding insult to the people and know that no one could object... least they too would feel the warmth of his flames.
