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The Scream
Kevin Stokes
In 1972 or 1973, I was a member of a school walking party, walking for a week in the Lake District.
We were staying at a place called Monk Coniston, an old building, reputedly an old monastery, on the shore of the lake of that name. Being some of the youngest members of the party, a group of 5 of us, all in the 14-15 age group, were consigned to one of the worst rooms in the building. While the lofty 5th and 6th formers enjoyed the luxury of rooms and dormitories upstairs, we were sent down to a pokey little room on the ground floor, next to the boot room. (This was the room where one left his muddy boots after the days perambulations).
The room was roughly square in shape and had a mix of bunks and cots. On around the third night there, all of us were woken by what I can only describe as an unearthly scream, one of utter despair, and abandonment of hope, all of us in the room were shocked into wakefulness, thinking that some terrible disaster had befallen one of our school chums.
After a few minutes, when we heard no further sounds from the building, we realised that the sound which had woken us, had not woken anyone else in the building. This was impossible to understand , as the sound was so loud it must have penetrated to the rafters, and, being a school trip , the wary ears of our accompanying school masters would surely have registered such a noise.
After a few more minutes we all tried to settle off to sleep again. But I for one found it very difficult. The following morning, two of our party claimed not to have heard anything in the night, even though they were the ones expressing most fear at the time! Undaunted, myself and the other witnesses sought out the warden of the hostel and enquired, without leading him, about the history of the building. He warmed to the subject, and very soon told us that there was a legend of a monk being walled-up alive in the old part of the building, which was where the boot room was situated. We had very quickly ascertained that no-one else in the building had heard a thing the previous evening, and not wishing to be ridiculed by our peers we kept the events to ourselves.
Interestingly, I met up with one of the five after a gap of nearly 20 years, and after a few beers the subject got round to old school times. I broached the subject of our "ghostly " experience, wondering if the events of that night had stayed with him all these years, as it had me. I was amazed to find that he claimed never to have heard anything, and to disclaim all knowledge of even being woken by a noise! I can only conclude that the desire for rationality is so strong in some people they will block out the evidence of their own senses, or at least the memory of them, I know that the scream we heard in that room was a sound I will never forget, and never wish to hear again.
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