Ghostly Encounter by Pam Swain (best ereader for pc .txt) 📖

Ghostly Encounter

I could feel the wind against my face, numbing my senses, as I walked down the long twisting path to Dunluce Castle, on the North Antrim Coast of Northern Ireland. It was a stormy, day with black ominous clouds hanging low in the sky. The wind blew fiercely against me almost knocking me over and the torrential rain burned my face. It was the middle of winter, visitors had long gone and the castle was closed but my friend, Debbie, who worked there, had let me in while she caught up with some work in the office.

I made straight for the North East Tower, remembering the ghost story I had heard so many times about Maive Roe, the only daughter of Lord McQuillan who lived there many centuries ago. I knew her story had happened on a day similar to this long ago.

I held on to a jagged wall and stumbled over uneven rock trying to keep my balance, against the unrelenting wind. The jagged broken walls rose high above me making hauntingly spooky shapes against the darkening sky. I could taste salt spray in my nostrils and mouth from the pounding sea below. I made my way up the uneven stone steps that led to the tower, holding on to the wall as I went. I could feel them cold beneath my shoes. The wind was howling, or was it Maive wailing, sending goose bumps down my spine.

The tower was empty except for an old broom leaning against the wall. There was a cold, damp feeling and a pungent musty smell. I sat on the floor, my back against the wall, and closed my eyes. The noises of the storm and the roaring of the sea put me into a drowsy state. Then I heard it! I opened my eyes and in disbelief watched the broom methodically scraping swiping strokes along the floor by itself. My heart started to thump so hard I could hear it beating; a gentle voice was singing a melody as it swept.

“Maive, “I whispered so as not to startle her, “is that you sweeping?”

The sweeping stopped. The brush fell to the ground and the singing stopped. I felt a breeze against my face as if someone was looking very closely at me and breathing heavily.

“I am not here to hurt you. I just want to be your friend. You must get very lonely here all by yourself.” I said.

There was complete silence, and the rank smell had disappeared and was replaced by sweet aroma of perfume. The sounds of the storm and the sea had stopped and it was so silent I could almost feel it fill the room. Suddenly, the air was filled with a beautiful humming noise and gradually in front of me a figure started to appear as if through a white mist. First her head, then the rest of her body. She had long blond hair in highly decorated combs, falling about her shoulders, her face was very beautiful but pale, she had piercing blue eyes and a delicate little nose and her lips were full. She was dressed in a white full length handmade dress and had soft white shoes on her petite feet. The vision was of a young woman, slim and short in height.

She smiled at me, a sad unhappy smile that didn’t reach her eyes. We sat together and I wasn’t at all frightened, just interested and excited. As suddenly as it stopped, the noise of the storm and the turbulent sea started again. After the quiet, it roared deafeningly in my ears.
Maive spoke with a sweet, quiet voice.

“Thou are right, I get lonely and I be fond of thee and will be thou friend and I will convey to thee my tale.”She said.

“I dwelt here with my parents and my brothers. Being the only daughter I was particularly close to father. We cherished each other and never had cross words until it happened. My father, Lord McQuillan, was a fair man, but he had a very fiery temper although I never saw the brunt of it until that time.

"Come hither and look out the window with me, Mary,” she said, knowing my name without me telling her.

I stood beside her at the window and looked out. We overlooked the kitchen garden which was just in ruins now, but while I watched it appeared as it would have been then. The sky was blue, with a few fluffy clouds scuttling across it. There was no wind. It was a large green garden, well kept, growing vegetables and herbs in neat rows. I recognised mint, parsley, thyme the long green wisps of beans and peas, the green leaves of carrots. The aroma from the garden rose to our nostrils. Three men were on their knees tending to the garden and two young girls in long skirts and bodices with oval woven baskets over their arms, were harvesting the peas. They were giggling and throwing peas at each other when suddenly there was a shout from the direction of the kitchen.

“See to your chores, and stop wasting food,” shouted one of the cooks, peering round the kitchen door to see what was keeping the girls. They giggled louder.

“That be Ella and Louise, our kitchen maids. We were friends. I got on well with our servants and played with their children when I was small. That be where they live,” she pointed at servants quarters built on the East wall of the castle.

The two storey grey stone building stretched along the back of the castle backing on to the kitchens. The stables were on the lower level at the front, emitting a pungent smell of decomposing manure. It was built with uneven large grey stones held together with mud. The servants lived there in relative but simple comfort in small rooms with bare floors, a bed and table and chairs, and a cabinet for their belongings. Towering, stone chimneys rose above the roof and led to the open fires that warmed the building. Each chimney houses four fires, small adequate fires in the corner of each room. The rooms all had a window, some overlooking the kitchen building and others looking out over the jagged limestone rocks of the White cliffs, and the sheer massive drop to the swirling sea below.

I watched fascinated as the entire Castle became animated before my eyes as if I was living in that time. Stable boys were mucking out and carrying buckets of manure to the gardeners. Young children were playing with hoops and chasing each other. Servants were sweeping the paths, while others were carrying supplies to the kitchen. Guards were at the drawbridge, dressed in uniform, standing completely still. Soldiers were going about their daily tasks and maids were carrying food and large jugs of ale to the large banquet hall.

Maive stood back and signalled to me to sit down again. Disappointed, as I would have liked to keep watching, I turned and was amazed to see the Tower room was furnished. The narrow bed lay along the wall where we had been sitting. Beside the bed was a small table with a marble top that had been a gift from her father when he had returned from France. A larger wooden table sat in the middle of the room. The wood was of thick uneven grain and but finely polished. There was a solitary chair beside the table. Personal belonging were strewn on the table, a sewing kit, a mug and plate with remnants of uneaten sesame bread and cheese, several books and hair ribbons, combs and a brush. A small woven rug covered the trap door in the floor and a colourful blanket was neatly folded on the bed.

We sat side by side on the bed and Maive told me her story.

“Have thou ever been in love?” she asked. “I mean a true deep love that nearly makes thee crazy. Where he is all thee can think of and picture in thou mind. Where thee cannot concentrate because every minute thou long for one touch of his hand.”
I shook my head.

“Well, that is how Reggie and I felt about each other. He was an Officer in my father’s Army and we were deeply, madly, in love. We met in our secret place under the “Wishing Arch” where we bequeathed our troth to each other. Reggie was a gentle, kind man and well mannered. One day, the day that my life changed, my father had brought Rory Oge, his kinsman, to meet me as my intended. I refused and was rude to him and said I would rather die than marry him. My father did not understand but Rory suspected I had another love. He had me followed and discovered my secret meetings with Reggie. He told father.

Crimson with rage, father said “Maive, Thee will be detained in the North Tower until thee agree to marry Rory. Office O’Cahan is not good enough to be thou suitor never mind thou husband. No-one is to converse with thee until thee change thou mind.”

“But father,” I said “I am in love. It is Reggie I want to marry.”

With fury I had never seen before from my father, he pushed me into the North Tower and locked the door. He brought me essentials and some white material and sewing things to make my wedding dress. The material was of white silk, it was beautiful. I sewed well as my mother had taught me tapestry and sewing at a young age.

After a week my father visited me and was happy to see me sewing what he thought was my wedding dress. I told him it was my shroud and that I would rather die than marry Rory Oge. He was so different from Reggie and I knew I could never love him. My father was enraged and left. Mary, twice more he visited and the same thing occurred. After the last time he threw my broom across the room and told me to sweep my own room, there would no longer be servants to do it for me.
As I tried to sleep that night my broom began to sweep in a corner by itself and I could hear someone singing. It was Reggie’s fairy, he was a poet and he sang softly till I drifted off to sleep.”

Maive had paused now and looked towards the window as the thunder roared and the lightening illuminated the sky. The rain fell in torrents and the fierce wind forced in through the windows and stung my skin.

Turning back towards me she continued, “This night is like the fateful night it happened. I watched my father lead his army from the castle to battle. I feared for Reggie’s life as I thought he had gone after him. Oh, Mary, if I had known. After they had gone, the tower door opened a servant came in.”

”Put on your shoes and cape, My Lady. Officer O’Cahan is in the cave below awaiting you.” He told me.

The massive cave stretched over a hundreds feet under the castle. Stalactites hung from the roof like large icicles dripping acidic water. Stalagmites grew upright like pillars on the ground and through cracks in the rocks. The crashing of the sea was