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A dog leg to the right by DoctorMikeReddy

”Beware the Bwgan Fawr.” the old Vicar sighed. “Every chapel has to have its ‘Ysbryd capel’…”

“Its chapel ghost?” the younger clergyman replied. His pronunciation was still more ‘gog’, more Northern, than the man he was replacing felt comfortable with. Too… foreign. If such a phrase could be used for a fellow Welshman.

A shame, his body was found the morning after his first Midnight Mass. Just outside the chapel door, lying as if it had carried a great weight across the threshold, and then collapsed with the release of his burden. A heart attack, they said. Strange in someone so young.

The old vicar sensed a change though, as he entered for unexpected Christmas Day services. A younger, darker presence focussed upon the doorway’s arch. He had a feeling he knew who it was. Every chapel has to have its ghost.

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Eh, toss this story
6:10
He left me hanging.

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