Weirdness in a country churchyard
Recently I picked up a copy of an interesting volume: ‘Haunted Churches of England’ by Graham McEwan. Not many pages in, I came across an extraordinary story. McEwan believes it ‘must be unique in the annals of paranormal phenomena’ and I have to agree with him. This originally appeared in the ‘More Uncanny’ section on Uncanny UK, now discontinued. I have placed it under ‘Ghosts’ for want of anywhere more suitable.
The account concerns the churchyard at Yealmpton, in south Devon. One Saturday afternoon in 1940, the vicar of St Bartholomew’s, the Rev Dr A T P Byles, was sauntering up to the church in order to chat with his wife, who was inside arranging the flowers. He came up short when he saw, to his surprise, a deep hole blocking his path. The hole certainly hadn’t been there the day before and the Rev Byles could only assume it had been caused by subsidence. Sidestepping it, he went into the church to pass on his message to his wife. When he emerged, he was shocked to see that the hole had expanded considerably in the short period he had been with his wife. This was very worrying. The hole was a hazard. How much bigger was it going to get? Were the foundations of the church at risk?
The vicar fetched his wife and they both stared dismayed into the depths. Mr Byles suggested that perhaps he should be lowered into the cavity on a rope, so that he could assess the situation. Wisely, and I suspect due to his wife’s objections, he abandoned the idea. Instead, he found a pebble and bunged it into the hole to ascertain its depth. The stone rattled against something on its way down: perhaps the stonework of some forgotten crypt.
Now was not the time to think about archaeology, however. What was needed was action to prevent any of his parishioners suffering a nasty, possibly fatal, accident. Mr Byles decided to drive into the village and obtain some planks that he could use to cover the hole. To find out what length of wood he required, he measured the hole’s diameter and found that it was now no less than 9ft across.
In the village he explained the situation to a local builder, Mr Knight, who said he’d come and take a look at the hole himself to determine how best to tackle the job. One can now imagine the scene: the anxious vicar, relieved no doubt to have found a practical fellow to help tackle the crisis, hurriedly leading the way through the gravestones, the builder following curiously in his wake. How much more curious Mr Knight must have been when the reverend gentleman suddenly drew up in the path, perhaps letting fly a secular oath – for there was now no hole to be seen! The path and the grass verge were undamaged and unmarked, flat and solid. The 9ft wide cavity had closed up. Or was never there at all.
Mr Knight went off, shaking his head, leaving his bemused vicar staring down at his feet. The hole never reappeared and no explanation for the apparition – for so I suppose we must call it – was ever forthcoming. Mr Byles still talked with wonder over the incident thirty years later.
