A cautionary tale, collected from a circle of poets and storytellers who would meet every week in a bakers in Morlaix to tell their stories and recite their poetry throughout the winter of 1888-1889 .

    In the old castle of Kerloster near Lanneanou, it was said that a white lady, no doubt an old inhabitant of the castle, would appear between eleven and midnight. She would float slowly down an old ruined stone    staircase, cross the courtyard and disappear down the avenue of old oaks leading to the village.
    The castle was occupied by two families, each living at one end of the castle, they had all seen on many occasions the white lady, all except the eldest son of the younger of the two farmers living there. Raoul, mocked
    those who said they had seen the white lady, and laughed at the idea of ghosts. Raoul was also a bit of a lad, each evening after dinner, he would meet other young men in another village, where the youths would drink
and play cards all evening, Raoul would roll home often long after midnight.
    At the back of the courtyard there was an old hut that served as a shed for the garden tools, upstairs was a bedroom with two old beds, a spinning wheel, loom and lots of thread, twine, string and old cloth. Each Sunday after church when the weather was fine the neighbours would play bowls in the avenue, when the game was finished the bowls were put     back in the hut ready for the next weekend. Even though there were two beds no-one wanted to sleep there for too many nights, for if the hut was peaceful by day, the night, it was haunted. Devils and demons would play
bowls in the bedroom, the spinning wheel would turn, the loom weave, and there was the noise of heavy boots walking and running on the
floorboards. Raoul laughed and made fun of those who told this, one day when challenged to spend a night in the hut, he said: - All right, I shall, and the devil take those who try to scare me, if it is not the devil himself.
    And so he went there, carrying no weapon other than a stout stick. About midnight the

noise started. The bowls rolled from one end of the bedroom to the other, the loom and spinning wheel started up as well.
    This startled him some, but he wasn't scared, he cried: - What devil is making this racket? Curse them up there, be they men,
devils, the living or dead, shut-up and let me get some sleep. But the noise continued. So he got up, took his stick and climbed the stairs to the bedroom. To his great surprise nothing moved, nothing was out of place, everything was as it should be, the silence complete.
    - I don't get it, he said.
He returned, climbed into bed. But as soon as he was settled the racket restarted. He went up again, furious, cursing and swearing, saying that he would throw any being that he would find out of the window.
    But, again he saw nothing, even though there was a full moon, everything was in its place, everything calm. He returned to bed, and decided to not get up again, no matter what, before the dawn. But he began to feel
afraid. He heard someone coming down the stairs, noisily with big heavy boots. The presence came to the foot of the bed, took

the stick and violently hit the bedframe, opened the door and left. Raoul, the brave
Raoul, was no longer so sure of himself. He hid his head under the covers and shut-up. At cock-crow he dared raised his head, he found
everything in its place, as if nothing had happened.

    He never slept in the hut again, and began to think that perhaps they weren't so wrong, those who believed in ghosts.
 
 

    Nevertheless, each night he continued to chase the girls, gambol, and drink with his friends. One night coming home late, as he would, his pipe in his mouth, the moment he entered the courtyard he saw the white lady,
floating down the stairs. She came strait towards him. He took the pipe from his mouth, petrified, not knowing what to do nor say, he asked: -Excuse me Madame, what time is it?
- It is time, replied the phantom, that honest souls should be sleeping. And she took his left hand, saying: - Follow me. Raoul wanted to

resist but couldn't. The hand of the lady held his like an iron vice. She took him down the long avenue of old oaks, out into the forest, he heard the cries, screams and growls of wild animals of all sorts, which made his hair stand on end. She's taking me straight to hell, he
thought.
    She led him for a long-time. Eventually he heard the cock crow, and five o'clock ring on the church bells of Lanneanou. Immediately the white lady let go and disappeared, and he found himself only a few steps from the Lanneanou graveyard.
    If the white lady had managed to lead him to the cemetery before cock-crow, he would never have returned.
    From this moment Raoul changed his ways, he no longer played at night, and no longed mocked those who told ghost stories, the long winter nights.
 

Please also visit  other realms of mine

    / faries realm /  wolves - our dearest brothers / state of poetry and quote /  web rings /   links  /  awards / adopting zone/ Holidays/ Japanese Cartoon Section/
Horror Zone/