Paphos People

GHOSTLY GOINGS ON

The two villages were about a mile apart in the middle of Lincolnshire, in the old days before transport that was far enough to establish two separate communities.
In medieval times there were rumours of witch-craft afoot and a ducking pond was established midway between the villages. One eccentric old lady, ‘Lizzie’ was hounded down and tried by the ducking pond. Villagers all gathered as Lizzie was tied to the chair then lowered into the water until fully submerged. Held down there for at least five minutes then she was brought up. If she was still breathing, she was obviously a witch and was burned at the stake. If she wasn’t breathing then they had maybe made a mistake but if the witch-craft stopped then the death of the witch was justified. The end result was that Lizzie died there and the area was henceforth known as Lizzies Corner.

The church in one village was far superior to the other one so the CofE decided to sell one off for conversion to residential use. The village without the church had a pub, so on Saturday nights a procession of people walked to the pub, then on Sunday mornings the same procession walked in the opposite direction to the church. As they passed ‘Lizzies Corner’ many people genuflected just to be on the safe side.

Richard Jones was eighteen, a country boy born and bred. He lived in the village with the church, he wasn’t particularly interested in religion but he was interested in the pub.
Having a few beers with his mates was his idea of a good night out. The walk home was a bit traumatic, especially at Lizzies Corner but Richard had a good torch and anyway he didn’t believe in ghosts. One Saturday night as he wound his wobbly way homeward he thought he heard something. A shadowy figure stood at the gateway. Taking his halogen torch in his hand he turned it on. Two large eyes looked at him and with an eerie WHOOOOOO, rose noisily into the air!! The torch went one way and Richard went the other, running the last half mile in record breaking time. Shaking he let himself into his parents house. They were in bed so he went to his room and lay on his bed in a state of shock. Eventually he fell asleep and woke in the morning with a banging hangover.

Knowing for sure in his own mind that there was no such thing as ghosts he resolved to get to the bottom of this. Next night he was secreted at Lizzies Corner watching. The gate posts were clad in ivy, making them look a lot broader than they were. As it got dark he was aware that the night was coming alive with nocturnal beasts, badgers, and a fox were prowling about, mice and voles scurried about in the undergrowth. Then about ten o clock a huge owl swooped down and perched on top of one of the gateposts, looking just like the hunched figure he had seen the previous night. Switching on the torch it had the same effect as the night before only without the effect of alcohol it didn’t scare him at all.
Coming out of his hiding place laughing to himself, he made his way to the pub for a last drink before closing time and to dispel the myth of Lizzies Corner forever.