The Ghostly Priest

In 1996, I lived in Sussex on the South Coast, UK. I was a Catholic, and in charge of the music for the Saturday Night Mass. Sometimes I’d go into the Presbytery to use the photocopier but the machine often malfunctioned and had done so again; much to my annoyance. The Priest’s quarters were upstairs and the Parish facilities downstairs, so I shouted up to Fr. David:

‘Father! The photocopier’s not working again!’

At the foot of the staircase, I felt a presence. I looked up and saw a Priest standing midway on the stairs. I realised I hadn’t heard him descend (the stairs were creaky), and he did something which chilled me to the bone, he turned his head until he faced me; the movement was unnatural; too slow, almost unreal and he didn’t say a word. He wore round glasses and full white vestments as if celebrating a Marian Mass. I panicked and shouted up to Fr. David, ignoring the mute presence:

‘Oh never mind.’

Feeling spooked, I ran from the presbytery into the Church. Attempting to be rational, I presumed the figure was a visiting Priest and waited to see if he would con-celebrate; not an unusual occurrence, but he didn’t appear. Later, when the Mass started, I remembered it wasn’t a minor feast day (when particular vestments are worn) and Fr. David did not mention the visiting Priest.

The next day, while travelling to Eastbourne, it came by way of an inner inspiration/locution that the Priest was a ghost, but the only way to find out was to ring Fr. David. Lots of strange, supernatural events were happening at home and in the Parish, and I knew that Fr. David was apprehensive talking on such matters; but still, I rang and asked him - he assured me that there was no visiting Priest in the Parish, he appeared shaken and annoyed.

Two months later, during our preparations for the Parish Centenary, me, my husband and Fr. David flicked through old Parish pictures to use for the hall display. It was the first time I’d seen the photos and it was interesting to see pictures of the bare field before they built the Church. Then I gasped — Fr. David pulled out a photo of the first Parish Priest and a parishioner digging the first hole in the field; he looked remarkably like the Priest I saw on the stairs, complete with the round glasses! It was one of many strange events that happened to us at the Church and at home from 1993 onward.