This is a continuation of a post from a few days ago. I’m writing it in segments.
So about this door. I don’t know exactly why, but it creeped me out. Amidst cemeteries, eroded statues, and crawling ivy everywhere, it was the door I didn’t like. It led up to a high tower. While inside, I don’t even think I realized how high up I was. Maybe five stories? There was a window, but in these old buildings, walls are thick as hell and there’s a good length of stone and brick between you and the glass. You don’t get to just look down. I didn’t realize this was that high up, there were no trees to gage that. There were other buildings, but they were a short walk and with the distance in the way, there was no point of reference for height.
It wasn’t right away, but eventually I figured out that this was the top floor and that stairway up to the locked room was not actually a floor, but a room above the top floor. There was a tower there.
I’m not stupid. I knew my school had towers. I mean, it had more than one actually, but generally they were blocked off pieces of architectural detail, sometimes with clocks or bells, or even in one tower, you could see the high vaulted ceiling above a spiral staircase, but the point is, they weren’t rooms. I put together the pieces and realized that tower was different. There were more windows. They were dark, but still had glass and behind them there had to be a room. That’s what was behind the door.
This was all before I started to learn the stories of what happened inside it.
I don’t remember where I first heard it, though I remember when people said there used to be exorcisms done here, I knew just where they happened. It was that room. It was always that room. It was the only thing that made sense. Everyone seemed to know that was the room. The really naïve kids would need someone to point it out, but most kids just seemed to know where it was. Like there was a posted sign somewhere.
And just like that there were rumors. They didn’t come from any one place. They came from everywhere, though there was one story that stood out. It wasn’t always the same. The details were foggy, though in the version I remember there were twelve priests asked by the bishop to perform an exorcism on a woman. Sometimes the woman is just a woman, sometimes she’s a patient from a nearby asylum. (I looked into it, the asylum existed but is gone now. Its grounds haunted.) This woman was possessed. That’s the same across all stories. That is not a detail that changes. She’s always possessed. Sometimes by the devil himself, but more often than not, a demon. It isn’t a question that there was something very wrong.
The woman and the twelve priests go into the tower room then the story changes. In some versions, they never leave. In others, while they’re up there, the clock in the clock tower stops working, or even that when someone comes to check in hours later, everyone in the room has died mysteriously. There isn’t a clear answer as to what happened, if it ever even happened at all.
To some extent, maybe it doesn’t matter what happened. There was something about it that effected so many of us. That isn’t all of it though. There’s still more. Wait until next time, Lizard’s Ghost Story: Part 3.