The Village……

The Village…

The village of Baynton on the Green was a very special place to live. Everyone who was born there, always seemed to stay there. The newcomers who lived on the new estate, on the edge of the village, had embraced village life, indeed they had added to the dynamics of the village. So far the council had firmly rejected the overtures of Tesco and had given a resounding no thanks to having a super store built in their midst. Hence the uniqueness of the village. The main High street was a hot bed of activity with each shop selling their own special brand of food, clothes, antiques, books or toys. Restaurants, bistros, cafes, and real ale pubs with good pub grub all added to the lively mix. The Doctors and dentists were close by, where you were known by name, the lovely cottage hospital was just outside the village.

The real hub of the village was the church hall, next to the beautiful old church, it had always been well used, but now more so than ever. With a young and keen committee there was something going on for for all the villagers, whatever their age, from babyhood to old age. Every day a different activity was taking place, mother and baby groups, offering practical help and advice, through to coffee mornings for young moms with toddlers who enjoyed the big box of toys donated by the older mums whose children had now grown up. There was a newly formed Zumba group, to help get rid of any stubborn post baby bulges. The older ladies had formed a knit and natter group, where all kinds of gossip and topics were discussed. Afternoons were for the Darby and Joan club, who held tea dances, bingo or whist drives. The book club and writing groups on an evening were also well attended and were proving to be hugely popular.

Michael a newcomer to the village had started up activities for the youngsters. A youth club for the under 13’s was a very popular place to go. Michael was a very inventive youth leader, each week he would set a task for the kids to do at home. One week they were asked to bring food that they had prepared and cooked themselves. Another week to do a drawing of there favourite place, or write a story about a holiday they had been on. He asked them to bring in photos they had taken when out in the countryside with their parents, or photos of their pets, they then put all this memorabilia into albums, a good record of their childhood to look back on.

Every Friday night the older teenagers got together, to listen to music, dance and enjoy themselves. Once a month they held a disco or party night, sometimes after a pint or two of the local ale, things could get noisy, but no one minded it was all good innocent fun.

The week before Halloween night had seen the older lads and lasses decorating the village hall in readiness for their Halloween disco. But the evening before Halloween was the turn of the pre teen club. The previous week Michael had asked them to write a ghost story. The atmosphere in the hall was strangely creepy when the youngsters arrived, the lights were dimmed and eerie shadows seemed to be forming in the darker corners of the room. One by be the youngsters put on a show of bravado as they stood up to read the stories they had written. Each story seemed to be getting more and more scary. By the end of the night Michael thought the kids had been spooked enough. He tried to lighten the mood by telling them that next week they could bring there favourite board games to play.

The youngsters set off for home, walking in group. None of them cared to admit it but they all felt uneasy walking through the churchyard. The boys started teasing the girls who were shrieking and giggling in equal measures. It was a cold windy night, the wind was whistling through the trees and scudding up the leaves. Rob the eldest and cheekiest of the group stopped ” what is that” he asked in a frightened voice. ” Stop acting the fool Rob, you’re scaring us” said Chloe. Rob stood and stared into the trees”look over there” his voice sounding more high pitched than usual, the kids gathered together and looked to see where he was pointing. Hanging from the lower branches of an old oak tree was a ghostly apparition. It appeared to glow in the dark, was it a skeleton or the Grim Reaper or horror on horror was it a naked person with wings. None of them stopped to find out, the girls ran screaming from the churchyard, the boys sprinting off in front of them ! They felt safer under the street lamps of the village green and hurried home to tell their parents what had happened. The dads got together and with torches went to the churchyard. They found nothing, nothing at all. The churchyard was as quiet as the grave. They presumed the kids had got spiked by reading all the ghost stories.

The only person who knew what had happened that night, never did tell, he was a local art student, he had made the ghostly figure using wire coat hangers, paper mache and huge feathers he had bought from a local market stall, then he had painted it with luminous paint, he had been taking it to the village hall ready for Halloween when he decided to scare to younger kids, his prank was never revealed and the story went down in the folk lore of the village.

Pauline Round July 2020