Part I - The Akenfield Poltergeist
As told by The Professor.
Whilst conducting research for my latest book (something to do with a philosophy of ghosts) I came across the Reverend Jonathan Golightly’s Case Book.
Outside of specialist academic circles, Jonathan Golightly is not well known. However, rather than getting distracted with the biographies of forgotten psychic investigators (including the African American occultist and sex magician Paschal Beverley Randolph, who definitely does deserve a wider readership), I think it is better to press on with what struck me as way more interesting. What follows are extracts from the Rev. Golightly’s casebook on his final, and some may say, most mysterious case, The Akenfield Poltergeist.
I feel it makes most sense to start with the letter, dated June 1899, that I had found tucked inside the pages of Rev Golightly’s casebook. This had initially piqued my interest in this particular case, and so I have transcribed it word for word below.
Dear Jonathan,
Old friend, it is with much anxiety that I ask for your help. I am sorry to lay my troubles upon you, but I am not sure to whom I can turn. Believe me, Jonathan, I have thought long and hard before writing this letter. I do not mean to flatter you or place you under undue pressure (one knows that friendship has its protocols), but, after much meditation, I believe that you are the only person who might be able to help my family and I. We are being haunted.
After writing these words I feel both a sense of relief, and an awareness that to anyone but you these words would be the expression of common superstition or mental degradation. Perhaps the best I can do is to try and put into words the facts as they appear to me. Forgive me if I digress, but I find writing this letter very difficult.
As you know I was for a long time the incumbent of an urban parish in Manchester. The work was exacting but rewarding. It took its toll on my health. After some time, I managed to secure the rectorship of a different parish. Some way from the northwest of the country, it appeared to offer me my family and I a new beginning. I will not go into the details at this point. One of my enduring anxieties concerns my young wife, Margaret. She was of immeasurable assistance in Manchester. Margaret did not want to leave the city, for all exacting circumstances it placed her under; and I feel that I may have placed her under undue pressure in stressing that my own health required us to relocate.
My hopes that the new parish would be less demanding on my nerves, and that Margaret would warm to our new life were soon dashed. I can provide you with the necessary background when, as I hope, we are able to talk.
The incidents began with what I can only call the goblins. The goblins would displace things around the rectory. I think it was not long before the end of the first month that the first disturbing event took place. As was my usual practice, I worked on my sermon during the week and kept it in a folder in my desk drawer. I believe it was Saturday morning, when I came down to find it strewn over the floor of the room that served as my office. Margaret and the children were surprised as I was. I certainly did not suspect them of any mischief; and Nancy, the young woman we employ as a general help is also, I think, beyond reproach. I should mention, we have a lodger: a Mr Edward Cummins. A most charming man, and also, I believe, beyond reproach.
Later incidents became much more alarming. I will write to you of them (or tell you about them?) presently, as Margaret is going into the village and I want to catch the post,
I do hope that I might be able to see and talk to you before too long.
Benjamin
It was clear to me that I would have to engage in further research into this strange case…to be continued
Golightly considers the letter from his old friend, the Rev B. He’s sporting a Cucinelli 3-button sports jacket in green and black check and Louis Vuitton black patent derbies.
Size 8.5 UK (9.5 US)
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