Table Of ContentEchoes
An Almanac of
Ghost Stories
By
Neil Wesson
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Contents
A Ghost of a Life Brough Shorts:
A Lament for Eilean Mor Blackburns' Ghost
A Long Awaited Landing The Nightshift
A Message from the Grave Bakers Dozen
An Experimental Haunting
Ballard of the Piper
Bus Station Blues
Cries From the Deep
Curtain Call
Drawing on Innocence
Here be Monsters
Subterranean Menace
Temporal Line Works
Terminal
Death at Blackfriars
The Baker Street Irregulars
The Beachcomber
The Brake Van
The Chimes at Midnight
The Division Bell
The Drummer Boys' Ghost
The Erroneous Judgement
The Ghosts of Christmas Past
The God Forsaken Rock
The Lighthouse Keeper
The Phantom of High Street
The Radio Operator
The Saint Stevens Day Hunt
The Signalman’s Ghost
The Stairway
The Tomb of Lord Holderness
The Undiscovered Country
The Waiting Room
The Walled Up Room
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Where’s Bob
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Other Works by Neil Wesson
A Collection of Ghost Stories
The Bell Rock Mystery
All Published via LULU.com
All Characters and situations in this publication are entirely fictional
and resemble no actual events in the present, past or future.
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For Kirsty, Sam & Jacob.
I would like to thank
Sue Baker
For her help in the production on this work
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“The world is full enough, no ghosts need apply.”
Sherlock Holmes
The Sussex Vampire
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A Ghost of a Life
Raymond Vincent was a quiet, reserved and private man. It was not
surprising after the life he had led. He kept his emotional barriers
constantly in place and not letting anyone see his innermost feelings
or indeed share his private thoughts was paramount to him.
At the vulnerable age of seventeen he had lost his elderly father
to liver failure. He had been a man who had lived life to the extreme,
work hard, play hard was his motto. He had drunk heavily most of his
life and then at sixty he had paid the ultimate price. A kind and loving
father always, Raymond had missed his guiding hand in life.
This event had changed Raymond’s life indescribably and from
the moment of his father’s death, his life was no longer his own. His
time was divided between his work as a computer aided design
engineer and the welfare of his ageing mother. Any spare time he had
was dedicated to her and the running of the house.
All the usual trappings of youth never caught hold of him; as far
as he was concerned they never existed. Ten years later following the
death of his mother he made the biggest and hardest decision of his
life and moved into a house closer to his place of work. Leaving his
old home behind, he began a new life in his new abode.
Life for him did not change as much as he had expected. His
working life was back into the normal routine, starting at seven thirty
in the morning and leaving at five thirty in the evening. Home life
was also in a familiar cycle. Monday and Tuesday were dedicated to
washing and ironing while Wednesday night was housework night.
He had normally finished his domestic chores by nine o’clock so the
rest of the night was his own. The evening meal was normally a
simple affair; pasta, a selection of vegetables all covered in some kind
of cook-in sauce. Recently though he had paused at the freezer section
of his local supermarket and made a remarkable discovery,
microwave meals. Starting with a cheese and pasta dish, not wanting
to be too adventurous, he took it home and put it in the microwave
eagerly anticipating trying the meal that was now slowly turning in
the cardboard tray.
Sitting with a tray on his knee he tried the piping hot meal. Why
had he been cooking with pans for all these years when he could just
press a couple of buttons? The next week in the supermarket he
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realised that a whole new world had been opened up to him. Piling his
trolley high with curries, chillies and a whole Sunday dinner he made
his way to the till.
Raymond’s nights consisted of a little television and a lot of
reading. He was not a fan of soap operas or reality shows, so
generally he turned off the set around seven thirty.
Ray sat in his living room reading; the clocks had gone back several
weeks previously and the nights were drawing in fast; what’s more
Christmas was looming. This would be the first without either of his
parents and the thought of spending the festive season alone had not
crossed his mind until now. As an attempt to try to enter into the spirit
of the season he decided to read the Dickens novel ‘A Christmas
Carol.’
He was soon engrossed in the tale of the miserly old man. As he
read of scrooge and his meeting with the ghosts of his old partners,
Ray had the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. The feeling
was so intense that he dare not look up from his book until the feeling
had passed.
The following night as he read of the first ghost’s visit to
Scrooge, he had that same uneasy feeling. The old, well worn saying
sprang to mind but in this instant it really did feel as though someone
had walked across his grave. He buried himself in his book but as the
chapter came to an end he could bear it no longer. Slowly he looked
up and across the room.
Sitting on the settee under the window, curtains now closed, was
a slightly unnatural looking man. He was older and greyer than Ray,
but bore a strange likeness to him.
Ray stared at the ghostly figure for several minutes. Somehow
he knew it to be a phantom; was it a trick of his mind. Had he fallen
asleep while reading the ghostly tale and he was manifesting this
illusion in his mind?
Each night the spectre returned sitting in the same spot saying
and doing nothing and each night Ray said nothing to the visitor. He
never tried to communicate with the phantom at all; was it out of fear?
No he was enjoying having the company; the house seemed warmer
with another presence.
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It was a strange thing to have a ghost occupying one’s living
room. It was not the sort of thing he could bring up at the coffee
machine at work; he would be laughed out of the building for just
bringing up the subject. His colleagues’ minds were mostly closed on
such subjects as this, so he learned to live with it.
Christmas was now only a few days away and as he put the
finished Dickens novel down on the arm of the settee he looked
across at the phantom. The two glasses of wine consumed had taken
effect now; so with a large dose of Dutch courage he spoke to the
ghost, “Who are you?” he asked in a slightly slurred voice.
The spirit seemed to pause for a moment before looking at Ray. Then
it spoke, although the lips on its cold white face did not move. The
voice Ray could hear speaking to him was inside his head, is this how
all ghosts communicated?
The voice was chilling, but warm and friendly all at once, “I am
yourself Raymond Vincent.” it said.
Ray was starting to feel dizzy, the effects of the wine were
taking hold, “Sorry?” he said not believing what he was hearing.
The spirit replied, “I am your own ghost and here to help you.” The
words held Ray’s attention and he was desperate for more knowledge,
“If you follow the path you currently walk you will die in ten years
time. You will die alone in this very room, in this very chair where I
now sit.”
Ray was paralysed, how could he reply to such a statement.
‘Hang on’ he thought I don’t even know if this spectre is real or just a
figment of my imagination. Was he dreaming; substituting himself
into the role of Scrooge?
It seemed real enough; dreams always do until you wake up that
is. Why not go along with it, “How?”
“How?” the spectre started at him wearing a hard expression.
“Yes, how?” Ray no more believed in ghosts than he did aliens
or the theory of Atlantis.
“You die of boredom.”
“What?”
“You are leading a senseless life.” The ghost told him in a
friendly sincere voice. “You work and read, work and read. There is
more to life than this. As in the book you have just finished reading,
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