A GHOSTLY ADVENTURE

Southland Times, Issue 20939, 23 November 1929, Page 22

A GHOSTLY ADVENTURE

—First Prize.— I sat alone in the house, the family having gone out, leaving me to keep house. Outside the wind howled and moaned, but I did not hear it, being too interested in Edgar Wallace’s latest thriller, “The Terror.” About two hours later, the book finished, I sat shivering over a cold and dead fire, thinking over what I had read. Suddenly I gave a start. I had been gazing dreamily at a rather old looking newspaper which lay beside me, when I accidentally noticed the date. It was the 9th of December, 1932. "Good gracious! was I dreaming? Had I been asleep for three years? Was I another Rip Van Winkle? Why did everything look so old and strange?” Then, to my horror, a cold hand passed over my face, tweaked my nose, and disappeared before my eyes. A voice, which seemed lifeless, spoke behind me. “Oh! foolish boy, you are in another world apart from human beings. Because you read too many ghost stories, you are doomed to be haunted by ghosts, spectres and spooks for the rest of your life.” I gazed timidly round, but saw only a gloomy looking head suspended in the air. With a shudder I was just turning away, when piece by piece a body joined itself to the head. The ghost with a clanking of chains, drifted round before me, kissed me coldly on the brow, and began to sink through the floor. Just as its head was about to disappear, a thought seemed to strike it, and with a heart-rending groan it again appeared before me. “Sinking into floors always gives me neuralgia,” it said, and tucking its head under its arm disappeared in a cloud of smoke. A wierd and terrifying sound now broke out. It was like the wailing of a one-string violin badly out of tune, played by one who had no ear for music. Then, keeping time to the unearthly noise, a band of ghosts with and without bodies clanked passed me and through the floor. I sat still, my hair on end, and not daring to move. Finally came the worst of the lot—jazz music joined in with the wailing violin, and some more ghosts,- evidently some of the gay younger set, waltzed gracefully in. The trunkless head, my first visitor, popped up and explained this unusual Sight. “These young bloods couldn’t be satisfied with the good old clanking chains and wailing music, that we oldtimers prefer. They had to have jazz music,” he said gloomily. “Do you know,” he went on afresh, “it took us older ones all our time to stop them doing the Charleston, but we compromised, and let them dance the Yale Blues every Christmas Eve. However, the good old ghost spirit is fast going to the dogs. They’ll be oiling their chains and creaking joints yet. It’s too bad is’nt it ?” “Yes, it is,” I agreed, too frightened to say anything else. Their jazzing finished, the merry younger set departed, playfully bowling their heads down the passage. With a final groan the gloomy old ghost followed them, with his head as usqal, carefully tucked beneath his arm. Then with a shiver I shook myself and opened my eyes. The room had lost its look of age, the newspaper was the right date, but the jazz music combined with the wailing, shrieking violin, still kept up its terrible noise. I opened the window and looked out. Next door a wheezy gramophone was grinding out the latest dance tune, while two cats, evidently rival candidates, for the “backyard cat solo championship,” started on the next song in their extensive repertoire. The music being explained satisfactorally, I went to bed resolving to stop reading ghost-stories and thrillers, and to do my homework as a good boy should. —5/- and 4 marks to Cousin Graham Witt (14), 159 Lindisfarne Road, Invercargill. —Second Prize.— I will start right from the beginning and tell you exactly how it happened, though they always laugh at Rodger and me when the subject is brought up, as it often is, at the tea table or in bed at night. Well, we had decided on a ramble over the moors on New Year’s Eve, partly because it was New Year’s Eve, and partly to celebrate Uncle Pete’s birthday. When we had everything ready Uncle Pete flatly refused to go on with what he termed as one of our “schoolboy pranks.” “Pooh!” scoffed Rodger, "here, Lesly, uncle’s frightened of the bogey-man. We’d better keep our fun to ourselves.” Rodger was only sixteen, though he had a way of talking to Uncle Pete that made him “shiver in his shoes.” Still, he was firm; so, after no little argument, we were forced to go by ourselves. However, there was no love lost between him and Uncle Pete that night. The night proved rather black, too, though Rodger kept cracking jokes and going on as if it was the grandest of larks. The wind was shrieking wierdly through the tree-tops, howling and moaning as it passed us, when, quite suddenly, something crossed our path. Oh! the horrors of that moment—a moment I shall never forget in my life. Something cold clutched my neck, causing my heart to jump so that my back felt stiff and sore. I thought of all the dreadful deeds of story-books—the horrible things which happen to imaginary heroes only. Then I heard a mocking laugh, and the well-known voice of Cousin Jack said, “He, he Lesly. . n I; reckon I gave you the fright of your life then. You went a positively ghastly white! but, sh!” At first we were inclined to think it was just another of his jokes, but, no! We heard muffled voices among the pines, voices that could not possibly belong to anyone of us. I tried to think, but only succeeded in frightening myself. I knew of no one who would be passing at the time. Suddenly there was a scuffle behind us! Without a word we took to our heels and ran, never pausing till we reached home, but the footsteps followed all the way. Not one of us dared to look round, nor to slacken our pace the slightest bit, but, shivering with fear, we tumbled helter-skelter into the kitchen, followed by—Dad and Uncle Pete. “Well, of all the—” began Rodger. No, we certainly didn’t expect any schoolboy pranks from Uncle Pete, but, when we learned that it was Dad’s idea, we quite understood. —2/6 and 3 marks to Cousin Vera Williamson (12), Baxter street, Balclutha.

—Highly Commended.— “The spirit of Te Raupahaha has come back to earth!” Over the heads of the assembled Maoris in front of the historic, old meeting house, floated the cracked, wheezing, revengeful voice of Wataurau, the grizzled old tohunga. Ears were pricked up, a few warriors shifted uneasily, and on the face of young Kawiti, son of the tohunga, appeared a look of hatred and fear. For Kawiti had hated Te Raupahaha with a long lived hatred, but he feared him more. It was now some ten years since the great old chieftain, hero of many victorious battles and raids, had gone to the Great North Cape, but his memory would be cherished by his tribe for all time. But now, the spirit of the great chieftain had returned to earth, and those warriors w’ho had shifted uneasily, were his old enemies. They knew, as did all the tribe, why Te Raupahaha had returned to earth. It was surely to demand his son as chief of the tribe, for at present, Wataurau was chief and tohunga both, and young Kawiti was next heir. Kawiti was an arrant coward, but handsome and wellspoken, and his rival, Ngaruki, son of Te Raupahaha, was also handsome and well spoken, but, .what was more important, he was a born fighter and had already distinguished himself in battle. f Late that night under the shadow of the five ribbonwoods at the back of the pa, one might have seen a group of about twenty warriors, all in warpaint, listening to Kawiti’s voice and plan of action. They must kill Ngaruki! Then would Te Raupahaha make him chief? No! But the spirit, did they fear it? No! « * * * “The spirit of Te Raupahaha has again returned to earth!” Again Wataurau’s voice was heard by the assembled tribe; again twenty warriors shifted uneasily, and again a look of hatred and fear, mostly fear, showed on the face of Kawiti as he stood beside his father. For Kawiti had more reason now for fear. Had he not, with his own hands, killed Ngaruki, and was he not now chief of the tribe in his rival’s place? Kawiti shivered slightly. Next day Kawiti’s fears were overburdening, and he set out to walk them off. He walked swiftly, toying in his hands a greenstone mere, the gift of his father, and sometimes grasping the tiki that hung round his neck. That tiki had a history but in- his fear Kawiti tried his best to it, for it had brought him no bad luck since he - had removed it from the still, brown breast of his long dead rival. Kawiti entered the forest and some force irresistibly drew his steps to the place where he had killed Ngaruki. Kawiti jumped, then with his dilated eyes fixed fearfully on what he saw, he gave a moan of anguish. For, lying just where it was lying as he had left it many years ago, was the body of Ngaruki, the huge bloodstained wound in his forehead seeming to be distending over all his face. Kawati shivered, a long eerie shiver, and his ashy white face with its terror-stricken eyes looked awful in the half light of the forest. To Kawiti it seemed that myriads of unseen eyes were staring at him—staring, staring, and that unseen hands were

waiting to kill him, to torture him. A kw moan made him stare at the corpse. Was it moving? Something brushed across his neck, he spun round, put up his hand, and realized that the tiki had gone! His mere dropped from nerveless fingers, and the noise it made seemed to be his death knelL Then there came another moan, eerie and ghastly, and as Kawiti stared again the corpse half rose and fell back. The chief's eyes were blinded by blue streaks of light, and huge sinewy fingers seemed to be entwining themselves round his throat. A low voice hissed in his ear. “The spirit of Ngaruki " Kawiti screamed again and again, awful pains convulsed his body, he tried to flee, but could not; his breath came in short, sharp gasps, and he reeled and fell. And as he fell, he seemed to see the dead body of his rival, rise and soar away and a ghastly voice said: “The Spirit of Ngaruki has returned, its work is done, done,” and it slowly faded away. « * * • They found him next day, a mangled specimen of humanity, with huge staring, terror-stricken eyes bulging out of his head, and carved across the still chest in letters of blood, the one word, “Vengeance!” —2 marks to Cousin Peter Ferguson (15) Underwood. —Highly Commended.— Mary and Joan Webb were staying with their cousin, Betty Lang. Betty had been telling them about a haunted house up on the hill. “And the ghost walks once a year on Christmas Eve, and that’s to-morrow night,” finished up Betty. “How creepy,” shuddered Mary. “I say, what about a ghost hunt,” suggested Joan. The others took the idea up eagerly and so it was arranged. Eleven- o’clock was striking when three girls met on the stairs fully dressed and carrying torches. “Come on,” breathed Joan. “I say, the door’s locked,” whispered Betty, “ we shall have to get out the window.” In another quarter of an hour the three girls were creeping up the drive that led to the haunted house. They entered by a back window which led them to the halL On the left hand side there were some stairs and the three girls mounted silently. Leading off the landing were three doors. Two were shut, but the third was slightly open. Peeping round the door the three girls beheld a white sinister thing surrounded by fairies and. elves. “The ghosts!” yelled Mary and the three girls turned round and ran, and did not stop till they were home again. * ♦ * * The next morning at breakfast Mr. Lang read this bit out of the paper. This year’s Christmas play will be held in the “haunted” house. They had their last rehersal there last night. The play is called “The Ghost and the Elves." Mary, Joan and Betty looked at each other and burst out laughing. Of course the whole story came out and they were made fun of for many days after. —2 marks to Cousin Gladys Redman, (13) 21 Francis Avenue, St. Albans, Christchurch.

—Highly Commended.— The three children, Hazel, Allison and Tom, had come to stay at the Mysterious Mansion for the term holidays. As soon as they heard the name of their grandfather’s house ihey were fascinated and looked forward to their visit very much. They thought that there must be something very mysterious and wonderful about it; so after arriving, they pleaded with their grandfather, the sole owner of the house, to tell them the tale. Here the grandfather began:— "Many years ago, some mates and myself were playing in the hall in the dark, when two great dazzling red eyes came nearer and nearer, and I, being very nervous, let out a weird yell. Away scurried the ghost, or what we all considered to be a ghost. I have not seen it since, nor do I wish to again.” Here grandfather paused, but the children cried, "Oh, do go on, grandpa.” "Oh, how interesting! What happened next ?” “Truly, have you never seen it again?” With so much coaxing, grandfather continued: "Sometimes I have heard footsteps on the gravel path outside, but, on going out to investigate, I have seen nothing, so I have settled down again to think it was my own imagination. “This ghost, so one of my ancestors, on his death-bed, told me, is said to be hiding in a room somewhere here, but no one has ever succeeded in finding out who the real ghost of the Mysterious Mansion is. Now,” seeing Allison’s face growing excited, "off to bed, and don't dream of haunted houses, ghosts or any such spectres,” he added, laughingly. “Goodnight, my dears.” . While the three were ascending' the stairs, Tom said, “I say, you two, what do you think of my suggestion that we investigate to-morrow night and see if we can solve the mystery.” “Oh, yes, yes, yes, how delightful!” chorused the girls. "All right, hurry up and have a good night’s sleep,” said Tom. So they departed to their respective bedrooms to dream of exciting chases and thrilling escapes. The next day was a beautiful one, and the three children thought that the night would never come, but, at last, their wish was granted, and it was time for their adventures. Mounting the stairs when no one was looking, and sitting on the top landing, they waited the time when they would see the expected ghost. Their impatience had nearly got the better of them when, in the darkness, they could see moving towards them, a pair of dazzling red eyes. Up it came, nearer, nearer, towards them, until it was about two yards away from where they were sitting. Then it was that Tom decided to make sure who it was. All at once he flung his hands out in front of him and made a queer hissing sound. There was a rustle, a scatter, and the “ghost” ran past them. AH three children gave chase, and, after much' noise on their part-, they caught their supposed “ghost” with the red eyes—an opossum! What sighs of amusement and ripples of laughter there were! When the three children followed the ’possum to where it seemed very anxious to go, they found, to their surprised amusement that, away up in the attic room, which had never been used for years past, was a nest of tiny ’possums. This explained the great household mystery! Grandfather said that the opossums must have made their home there for many years, and then he started to laugh at the fears and worries he had undergone over the supposed “ghost.” "Well, children, we must change the name of the house now, and what would you suggest?” "Oh!” said Tom, “something happy and bright, for we have had a lovely holiday. Let us call it Sunny Dell. The girls were already thinking what •a thrilling ghost story they would have to tell their mates when they went back to school. marks to Cousin Jean Nichol (13), 166 Clyde Street, Invercargill. —Highly Commended.— “Jean is coming to our place for a holiday, and I will bring her home along the tram She will get such a fright, for those glow-worms will scare anyone. “Here comes the train, and I see Jean waving.” “Hullo Jean, and how are you?” “Just Al, Meg.” “Now we will set out for home. Have you all your luggage Jean?” “I think so, and here is a stunning book Meg, and all about “ghostly adventures,” my word it will make your hair stand on end.” “That will do me, for we get no thrills in this place Jean.” “There’s no asphalt here, we must walk along the tram, and through the bush till we reach home. “I do not like this place Meg. I wonder if there are any ghosts about?” “Well I’ve heard him say so. There used to be one and he had such a lot of eyes, and in the next cutting he used to appear, just after the mail train got in.” “Meg, I hear a noise above the bank, and I am frightened. Oh look, I can see such a lot of lights, do let’s turn back.” “We cannot turn back, for there’s no other way, we must walk by, and make out we do not see anything. Come on Jean, cling tight, and do not talk, for you are all of a shake. They say the ghost will not touch anyone, so long as they do not talk. The banks are both lit up, that must be his lights.” “Oh Meg, I do feel sick, let’s get it over and hurry.” “Open your eyes'Jean and look at this. For goodness sake, stop that screaming. They’re glow-worms and not a ghost. I really should have told you that this was not a ghostly adventure, but seeing you liked ghost stories, I just thought I would try this one. Do you feel all right now Jean, for mother would be angry if she knew I frightened you.” “I can stand anything now Meg, and feel AL” —2 marks to Cousin ‘ Margaret Maqarthur (10), Ohai. —Highly Commended.— "... And of course you know the old church is haunted. Do you know the legend about it?” said "the ghost girl,” Ethel Ailsy. “No, we don’t! Do tell us it,” pleaded seven eager voices; the eighth voice remained silent, while two dark brown eyes gazed at the speaker scornfully. Nine girls of Queen’s Boarding School sat round a cosy fireside. No light brightened the room and the winter day had almost gone, leaving this room bathing in dusky shadows. The girls cast anxious glances towards the dark corners and huddled closer together. “You know those ruins yonder?” began Ethel. “Well an abbot is said to have lived there years ago. One day there came riding down the road a band of outlaws. They robbed the abbey while the abbot flew to the church (it was new then) for refuge. They killed him however, but his ghost is said to haunt the church!" The girls shuddered! How awful it Bounded! “I’m going to investigate!” announced the speaker fearlessly. “Who’s going to follow ?” • “I! I! 1” cried the girls in chorus "That is settled anyway” Ethel replied cheerfully. At this moment the tea bell clanged through the school much to the delight and relief of our friends. All lights were turned

up. “Oh! Hullo Joan, my dear. I didn't know you were listening,” said Ethel as they lelt the fireside.

Joan’s lips twisted into a scornful smile, but a mischievous twinkle was in her eyes as ‘ she seated herself at the table. Later she listened intently to the arranging of the plans. She learnt that the following Saturday night was to be the time of exploration. * e ♦ ♦ ♦

"Oh! girls isn't the moon bright? Just look at those dark heaps of ruined wall

yonder! Don’t they look cold and ghostly?” inquired one of the "ghost” party, Olga Merna. , “Yes,\ Olga, they do look awesome, all right, but are wc going to turn back now?” replied Ethel. “Ethel Ailsy! What do you take me for? A coward?” cried Olga angrily. Oh no!” replied Ethel giving her friend a bear’s hug. "I know you are a real good sport!” “Thank you, Ethel, but I don’t possess sixpence,” said Olga now thoroughly amiable. The party was standing near the ruins on the Saturday night. The full moon seemea very bright and the lengthy shadows extraordinarily dark. The ghost girls were clad in long dressing gowns, and made an amusing group to the spectator. They walked on, reached their destination and sat down on some fallen stones to wait events. An enjoyable conversation was carried on the while. “Alice, you look like a statue of fear, my dear,’ said Olga. “If I’m a statue I think you must be a walking image of fright!” replied Alice sarcastically. » “Sh-sh, girls, I think I hear something, Ethel interrupted. "Your sense of hearing is somewhat out of repair, Ethel,” replied Alice. "Oh! is it?" inquired their leader. “Girls!” gasped Gladys in a voice that was almost a whisper, “I hear something. ’ True enough there was a distinct rustle behind the wall. Next moment a white figure glided round the corner. Alice gave one piercing shriek and tumbled in a heap on to the ground. The rest of the party crouched against a wall too terrified to speak. The silent figure glided—glided nearer -—nearer while the girls waited fearfully in almost breathless silence for what might follow. The ghost stood still for the space of one awful minute, and then —a ghostly hand stole out and seized Olga by the shoulder. She screamed and Ethel flashed a torch in the “ghost’s” face. The light revealed the merry face and eyes of—Joan Ryne. Her garment slipped to the ground and she stood almost convulsed with laughter in which the new relieved party heartily joined. . "Do you believe in ghosts, Ethel?” Joan inquired. . “No, I’m sure I don’t, her friend replied. “ ‘Somewhat ghostly and ghastly,’ wasn’t it girls?” Olga inquired. “Yes, yes!” the girls cried, as they turned towards the school. —2 marks to Cousin Jeannie Braid (13), Lumsden. —Highly Commended.— “Hey girls!” what about this adventure we planned. Fatty was telling me how exciting it is to be. When the grandfather clock strikes 1 we are to get up, and as quietly as possible creep downstairs, where Bessie and Co. will be waiting for us. These words spoken by Fatty’s chum were quietly- said, causing also a commotion in Cubicle 3. “The seniors are too high and mighty to take part in our adventure,” said Molly, another of Fattys chums, with indignation. “However, we 11 not miss them,” said another girl coolly. When the senior girl came round to see that all lights were off middle three’s (as cubicle three was called) occupants were all feigning to be asleep snoring loud y. Ding dong! Ding dong. 1. “Any awake? called Molly quietly. "Yes,” came the answer readily enough. Forms of white could be seen silently getting dressed. Silence reigned. “Now for adventure,” shouted I* atty involuntarily in her excitement. “Sh! sh 1 They’ve heard us you silly! Keep quiet, said Molly. All popped back to bed, but only the steady regular breathing from the opposite cubicle could be heard. “All s well girls. Come on.” _ Dark figures descended the stairs swiftly. Bessie and Co., laughingly greeted her chums and pointed to the watch on her wrist. It was at half-past one. “Time we were gone, kids. Come on.” Each girl claimed her bicycle and was soon speeding down the long winding road. In the distance the haunted castle could faintly be distinguished. “We’re heading for the castle girls. Just follow me.” On reaching the castle Bessie and Fatty alighted first. All hid their bikes in some bracken nearby. Quietly one by one they ascended the rickety staircase worn and old from age. The moon was shining brightly giving an uncanny look to the huge massive walls of the hall. The girls divided themselves’ into two parties never thinking of the misfortune that was to overtake them because of their adventure. Bessie took one half while Fatty took the other. As Fatty and her chums crept slowly along the numerous passages creaks and groans greeted their ears. Suddenly distant chains rattled as if by some invisible power. Nearer and nearer came the trailing mournful sound. As quickly as it came it died away. Then a blood curdling yell sounded in front of them. Just in the distance Fatty and Co. saw what made their hearts stand still in terror. Gliding silently in the air towards them was the white shadowy form of the Ghost of the Castle. Closer and closer he came towards them. They could not scream, nor speak, but stood staring, unable to move. Closer yet closer with out-stretched hands he came on—on towards the fear-stricken company. Nearer, even yet nearer, until a few yards separated Fatty and the Ghost. As if the bonds were broken Fatty fell fainting to the ground. Still on towards the others did the haunting spirit come. His bony hand stretched forth to clutch at Molly. A chill crept through her body, her heart stopped —she too lay now unconscious. Then as suddenly as he had come the white flitting spirit disappeared. “Girls—oo, girls he’s gone. Quick, run.” With amazing speed that would have obtained first prizes, the remaining juniors fled. It was a few hours later that Bessie came across the unconscious forms. Fatty and Molly were soon restored to consciousness and they told the others of their plight. The head mistress was very angry to think she had such rebellious subjects, but soon forgave them when she heard Mollie’s story. 2 marks to Cousin Betty McDonald (13), 417 Elies road, South Invercargill. —Highly Commended. — It was half-term holiday at “Chalet School,” Cranston, near Birmingham in -England and Robin Humphries, Josephine Bettany (nicknamed Joey) and Elivastea Rutland had received permission to have a day at Cranston Bay. At nine-thirty they had Mary (the maid) packing up their basket, so that they could get away early. After pocketing some fares for the ferry train they ran down to the train stop with their summer hats in their hands, as it was too hot they said to wear one. On reaching the bay they found it was fairly late, about eleven-fifteen, so they wondered where they would go for their spot to lunch. Several suggestions were made and then Vastie (Elevastea) said, ‘Oh girls I know the place, you know the old castle, the other side of the caves, well, wouldn’t that be a ripping place and we could see the ruins, and ghosts and the caves and oh, everything.” The last fifteen words she said in one breath as well as hastily. “Oh, yes, wouldn’t that be a stunner place,” exclaimed Joey, looking at the ruins. “My dear girl mind your grammar please,” remarked the younger girl, Robin. “I’m sorry, but hurry over here,” she said as she caught the girls’ arms and ran across to the wall. At last they were over. Fifteen minutes passed with nothing exciting happening until Elivastea said, “Come on over to the ruins, kids, I’m anxious to see it, after the story we heard from the T.W.N.R.B.S (Thora Wilson’s Night Rule Breakers) last night.” Soon they had turned the lock of the door and had gone up the stairs which were by no means creaky or loose as Robin called them. “Well, I think that they are,” broke out Vastie with a shiver in her tone.

On the second landing they stopped, and Joey loked in a room but to the other’s surprise she started back into Robin’s arms. "Oh, Vastie, I saw a g-ghoet g-g-oings up

those s-stairs in there,” she screamed in terrifying tones, pointing to the room.' The three girls tip toed in, Vestie, then Robin and then Joey, all of whom were tertor stricken. “What a ghostly adventure,” said Robin after they had emerged down to the bottom landing. Again Joey said she saw a ghost in the room on the bottom floor. "Must be the same one, we saw and then he came through a hole in the floor, eh!” Robin said instantly. They were very scared so they went out of the ruins and ate their lunch, consisting of mixed sandwiches, cakes (cream ones included, you know), three moulds of Spanish Cream and saucers to eat it in, home made kola and orange drinks and toffee, all of which was soon’eaten. On arriving at school that afternoon they told the girls the adventure they had had, and, of course, about the ghosts and Theda Makley told them that she had been the ghost, but she didn’t go through the floor. Vastie, Robin and Joey all said together: “Well, of all the dizzy things that’s the worst we’ve experienced,” with solemn looking faces. At this, their spectators burst into laughter as well as Madame Arching and, Miss Durant, the head, who just entered Study VI room and had heard the remarks. “That was a real adventure with ghosts all right,” exclaimed Madame Arching (called Archie by the girls). —2 marks to Cousin Zoe Smith (11), "Sherwood,” 24 Mitchell Street, East Invercargill.