Friday, October 23, 2009

In this tale for hallow e'en, a hand lurches through the darkness at the church of dead souls.

Three Tales for Halloween: Beware of the Hand in the Dark

Tale 3: The Lurching Hand

This strange story happened in the year 1517 in the St. Lorentia Church and adjacent graveyard. Early in the morning of All Souls’ Eve, a pious old lady left her home to attend the Angels' Mass at church. But when she stood before the gate to the cemetery she found it was midnight instead of morning. She heard a dull murmur coming from within and so she entered. There she saw an old priest whom she did not know standing before an immense congregation. As she walked down the aisle to take her accustomed seat, she felt a hand on her shoulder pulling her gently back. Struggling free, she once more attempted to take her customary place. This time she saw an iridescent hand floating toward her through the darkness. When it gripped her shoulder, she felt a chill seize her body and she could not walk any further. Then she noticed persons sitting on her right and left side, some without heads or without arms or legs. Many of these persons she had known in her lifetime. She sat down in the nearest pew trembling with fear. Because she only recognized dead people, those she knew or did not know in her lifetime, she believed she was in the presence of departed souls. Terrified she did not know whether to remain in the church or leave or what she should do. Finally she saw her sister-in-law, who had died just three weeks before. Because she knew her sister-in-law had been a kindly, angelic woman while she lived, she approached the spirit and asked “Dear sister-in-law, God save us, how do we get out of here?” The sister-in-law replied “When the priest turns to pronounce the blessing, then make haste and leave the church. Do not turn back but flee!” She watched and when the priest began to turn and say his blessing, she hurried from the church. Behind her a great tumult rose up as if the entire congregation were rushing out and following her into the cemetery. She felt the hand once more ripping at her shoulder and grasping for her coat. She could not move past the gate until she slipped out of the coat and left it lying near a tombstone. Hastening home, the church bell rang out three hours past midnight. The next day the townspeople found lying next to each tombstone one small piece of torn fabric from the woman’s coat.