Ghosts at Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

you would not want to spend the night, especially if you were travelling alone. The ghost tale that is attached to the old pub, and indeed, the area itself, is an eerie one and is aptly named the ‘hand of glory’.
    One Christmas, back in the 1700s, a fierce winter storm closed in on the area known as Scotch Corner. The storm lasted for days on end, with temperatures almost matching those in the Antarctic, and blizzards so thick one could barley tolerate being outside for more that five minutes at a time. The Old Spital Inn was a lot less busy than it would have been as local people dared not venture out from their homes during the storm; nevertheless, the bedrooms were all fully occupied by guests who had arrived before the storm. Now, the guests were literally snowed in and unable to leave.
    After spending a night in the establishment’s bar – having nothing else better to do – the guests drank their remaining pints of ale and then made their way back to their rooms to sleep off their drunken stupors. After the bar had been closed up, and everyone was fast asleep in their beds, the landlord of the inn and his family retired to their quarters for a well-deserved rest. The only individual left downstairs at this point was the cook. She was left to tidy up the premises and generally make things ‘all well and good’ for the next day. After finishing her duties, she sat down by the roaring fire in the kitchen with a nightcap and warmed herself in front of the orange-red flames that danced and crackled in the huge fireplace.
    Sitting there relaxing, her eyes began to slowly close. Suddenly, there came a ferocious banging from the front door of the inn. She rose with a start, and rushed to see who on earth could be knocking at such a late hour, and in such treacherous conditions too. When she opened the huge oak door, she was astonished to see before her an elderly lady, standing shivering and trembling in the icy-winds. It was obvious to the cook that this old woman was in dire need of some help, so without further-ado, she brought her inside the premises and wrapped her up in a thick blanket. Frozen through, the old lady explained that she was a homeless soul and needed somewhere to sleep for the night.
    The cook informed her that the inn was full, but, being a kindly soul, she provided a space in the kitchen for her and gaveher blankets to lie on so that she could spend the night near the roaring fire. After the makeshift bed was prepared, the cook bade the woman goodnight and began to prepare to turn in herself. As she was about to leave the kitchen to venture to her own room, she noticed something rather strange. Under the old woman’s clothes she noticed that she had on a pair of man’s trousers. After pulling the door to, leaving a small gap between the door and its frame, she suspiciously peeked through the slight gap to see what the old woman would do next.
    It seems the frail and frozen old lady was not what she appeared to be. She was, in fact, a man. The cook watched in horror as this man crawled across the floor of the kitchen until he reached the huge oak table. There, he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a withered and almost skeletal human hand. The cook was now frightened out of her wits, but, very much intrigued by what was going on, she kept watching. The impostor precariously balanced the grim relic upon a candlestick and then produced a small bottle. He removed its cork and poured the contents onto the tip of each finger. Then he lit each finger one by one. Four fingers were now burning away furiously, but the fifth digit would not light.
    The cook realised that the lighted fingers on the hand were a symbol of how many permanent residents of the inn were fast asleep. The reason the fifth digit on the hand had not lit was because the cook was still awake! The cook ran upstairs to awaken the innkeeper and his family, but all attempts to shake them from their slumbers proved fruitless. It