A Grim Tale From Topcliffe

Didst tha kno that in yonder days gone by, t’ fowks o’ Yo-arkshire believed that t’ furst body buried in a graveyard, got t’ job o’ guardin’ t’ rest o’ pooar souls that follud? A sort o’ ‘eternal duty, like. An’ fra tha’ reason, often as not, t’ clergy  wud sacrifice a large dog – to watch ova t’ rest o ‘t’ deead fra t’ devil, demons an’ other nefarious supernatural creatures – freein t’ human souls t’ go straight to heaven! Tis said, that on a dark stormy night, in t’ consecrated grounds o’ Yo-arkshire’s oldest abbeys an’ churches, these big black beasts, known as ‘Grims’, cud be seen prowlin’ raand t’ extremities o’ t’ graveyards, eye’s glowin’ red, an’ maaths droolin’ wi’ spittle. An’ when t’ devil him-sen wer’ in t’ vicinity like, t’ Grim would lift its head back an’ produce t’ most blood curdlin’ deathly howl – wot cud be heard fra bloody miles. It’d scare t’ crap aat o’ ony passin’ travellers no bother an’ stop t’ chickens layin’ f’ weeks. But t’ locals knew this to be a warnin’, like, an’ to stay at ‘ome ‘uddled raand t’ fire – so they giv’ t’ creatures a different name. They called ‘em ‘Hell Hounds’. Not coz they come fra Hell - but coz they guarded t’ pure fra its evil!

Nah, t’ fust church at Topcliffe wer founded by St Aidan arrand 650 AD – an’ stories o’ a reight fearful bloodynormus dog wot guards it, ‘ave circulated ivver since. Tis said to be t’ size o’ a large calf, black an’ shaggy, wi a smell o’ sulphur abaat it, gained fra too much o’ exposure to critters fra t’ other side. T’ patrons o’ t’ Angel Inn, will  tell thee tha’ on a still night, t’ sound of its claws can still be ‘eard trippin’ across t’ bridge ova t’ river Ure at t’end o’ Long Street. An’ if ther’s ivver a bit o’ fog hangin’ over t’ village, tha can be assured that t’ Grim ‘ll be aat an’ abaat annall.

Unfortunately, them weird fokes fra t’ wrong side o’ Pennines aint so other-worldly wise as us Yo-arkshire fokes – so ‘t is ‘ardly surprisin’ that fra time to time, some o’ them pooar buggers get t’ whole chuffin’ Grim thing arse abaat face.

In fact, not so long ago, a local lass, t’ fiancé o’ one o’ t’ most hated men in Topcliffe - a lawyer wot ‘ad emigrated fra Bolton (well oo woudn’t?), wor seized wi a sudden an’ unaccountable illness.  T’ local quack ‘ad no idea wot wer’ up wi ‘er, particularly as she wer’ known to be as pure as t’ driven snow an’ normally as perfectly healthy as a flower in t’ summer sun. So much so, that as she blossomed, she wud catch many a gentleman’ s eye as she passed daan t’ street. Indeed, t’ whole village wondered ‘ow t’ lawyer, oo were a right tight-arsed miserable old git, ‘ad ivver won her heart o‘er. Onny ‘ow, t’ quack called in t’ specialist physicians at Northallerton ‘ospital – oo wor equally stumped. So atter much sufferin, t’ pooar woman passed away like - ooer so they aal reckoned.

Not a one o’ doctors, lawyers ooer grievin’ family ivver suspected, or ‘ad reason to suspect, that t’ pooar lass wer’ not actually deead. An t’ be fair like, ‘appen she presented aal t’ ordinary appearances o’ death! T’ face assumed t’ usual pinched an’ sunken aatline,  t’ lips wer’ o’ t’ usual marble pallor, t’ eyes fixed an’ lustreless, ther’ wor no body waremth, an’ any sign o’ a  pulse ‘ad ceased! But that night, t’ saand o’ t’ Grim’s terrible howl wer’ ‘eard across t’ village fra fust time in mony a long yeear!

So naturally, in accordance wi t’ girl’s family’s wishes, t’ lawyer held a ‘wake’. Appen this be wayer f’ three days t’ body is preserved unburied, (p’rhaps in a coffin on t’ kitchen table) an’ t’ family gather raand t’ pay their last respects. T’ practise o’ holding a wake dates back to afore proper doctors an’ t’ NHS.  Back then, mony folks wer’ suspected o’ diein’,  when in fact they ‘adn’t. So a wake gave t’ pooar souls a little last-chance time to recover an’ ‘wake’ up afore they wor buried alive.

Abaat midnight on t’ fust night o’ t’ wake, ther’ come t’ saand o’ a dog sniffin’ an’ scratchin at t’ front dooar o’ t’ lawyer’s house. T’ local lasses suggested that it wor t’ Grim - an’ that 'e should let it in. But affeared f’ ‘is life, t’ lawyer ordered t’ door bolted tighter an’ everyone to ignore it. So this wer’ done, like, but after a while, such a terrible howl arose aatside, that aal t’ milk in t’ house curdled. Over an over wor heard t’ mournful howlin’ o’ t Grim - like a soul pleadin’ t’ heaven fra a last chance. But t’ lawyer remained stubborn an’ eventually t’ saand died away.

T’ followin’ night, t’ same thing ‘appened. An’ agayen t’ lawyer jus’ hid.

Unfortunately f’ t’ pooar lass, durin’ her wake, her body acquired a stony rigidity an’ started to hum a bit – so t’ funeral wor hastened on accaant o’ t’ lawyer’s worry abaat decomposition attracting t’ howlin’ beast. Thus on t’ third day like, she wor deposited in ‘er family vault, within t’ consecrated graands o’ Topcliffe church – wayer t’ doors were sealed an’ chained on t’ orders o’ t’ lawyer. But agayen abaat midnight that night, an’ f’ ivvery night f’ weeks afta like, t’ Grim wer’ seen pawin’ at t’ chains o’ t’ vault an howlin’ at t’ heavens. Then as suddenly at it had appeared, t’ Grim vanished an’ wor not seen agayen.

F’ next three years, t’ vault lay undisturbed, until one night, a strike o’ lightnin’, brought daan part o’ a tree, breakin’ oppen t’ vault dooar an’ shatterin’ t’ chains an’ t’ seal. Naturally both clergy an’ t lawyer came to inspect t’ damage.

Wot a reight fearful shock awaited them both when at last they threw oppen t’ dooars! As its portals swung aatwardly back, a white-apparelled object fell rattlin’ into t’ lawyer’s arms. Twas t’ skeleton o’ ‘is fiancé in ‘er tattered deeath shraad! Realisin’ this, t’ lawyer immediately fell dead upon t’ spot wi massive heart attack! But afore t’ clergyman cud say or do owt at aal like, aat o’ nowayer appeared t’ Grim, red eyes a blazin’ an’ spittle dripping fra it’s maath. It took no notice o’ t’ clergyman an’ instead clamped its jaws on t’ lawyers neck, an’ wi no effort at aal, dragged t’ body aat o’ t’ vault. Fra t’ door way, t’ clergyman watched it take t’ body o’ lawyer away fra t’ church an’ aat o’ consecrated land – wayer upon both Grim an lawyer simply vanished.

Afta a few minutes o’ recovery time, t’ clergyman went back into t’ vault to see wot 'e cud discover.  'E soon found aat that t’ pooar girl ‘ad obviously revived wiyin a day or so o’ her entombment, an’ that her struggles wiyin t’ coffin ‘ad caused it to fall fra a ledge, wayer it broke oppen on t’ flooar – allowin’ her to get aat. A lamp, accidentally left behind wiyin t’ tomb full o’ oil, wor nah empty. On t’ uppermost o’ t’ steps wot led daan into t’ dread chamber wor a large fragment o’ coffin, an’ on t’ back o’ t dooar wer’ scratches, splinter’s an’ dents fra wayer t’ coffin ‘ad been used as a club to attract attention in t’ hope of escape. Unfortunately, no-one heard her bar t’ Grim – an’ no help ivver came. Whether t’ pooar lass had died fra hunger, thirst or sheer terror, t’ clergyman cud not determine, but in her dying moments she’d fallen against t’ door wayer rusty ironwork had held her upright an’ erect f’ three long years.

Nah ah appreciate that mony o’ thee’ll think ah made this whole story up, like. But if tha goes daan to Topcliffe Church on a foggy evenin, tha can discover f’ tha self t’ truth o’ t’ matter. If tha’s pure o’ heart, ah’ll wager tha’ll come to nay bother. But if tha’s from Lancashire, ah’d run.....  quickly.