Skate-Wear Central

Skull Bone

The Screaming Skull Of Boscomb Manor

A legend had been told by wandering minstrels about the apparition of a screaming skull seen wafting in the mist at the dark of night above the shadows of the crags and hillocks of the Yorkshire moors.Fearsome as the screaming skull’s terrible cry, its relentless horror persisted even when it was silent. The dome’s apparition, grinning and hollowed eyed, had in the past years taken its grim toll from mortal beings it shared in death and in life. The tales spun into the minds of the avid listeners the sight of images and faces from the depth of a grave, from the deep gulf things that might have been…. 

Far be it from me to ascertain that what tellers of tales had told in their ballads must be true. Everybody was, often, as likely to be wrong as right. Such was the lore pertaining to the wish of a certain Lady Alica Boscomb of Yorkshire, which could be believed or not. It was related that on her deathbed she managed to blurt out her dying, yet strange wish. Lady Boscomb, near her last breath, exacted a promise from her two spinsterish sisters to sever her head from her remains; then to keep the fleshless skull in the Boscomb Manor where she lived through the years. 

The Boscomb Manor, now in ruins, was an secluded building located on the rocky mooorland in the county of Yorkshire. It was a house constructed about the time of Mad King George, stiff and formal in the mood and in the bad taste of the times. The manor was a stone two story edifice of twelve rooms with a moss-covered tiled roof. The house and its grounds were so solitary and isolated – a weathered dark edifice that seemed to be shunned by the nearest village. 

It was set in a spread of a half acre or so with the grim view of the stark and bleak moors. A high wall of black basalt, topped with broken glass, enclosed the sadly neglected grounds that was strewn with the debris of nature. Two stunted oaks, struggling for life on the stone strewn ground, guarded the manor with their waving branches. 

The interior of the manor was equally remote in fashion; so quiet,  yet when a voice was raised or a door slammed the sounds echoed through the dark corridors and empty rooms. Light was grudingly allowed into the rooms through the thick panes covered by heavy damask curtains.The ground floor rooms were of thick oak that were overlaid with thread worn carpets that silenced the tread of foosteps. Its ceilings were of worm-eaten beams of grayish whitewash, discolored to the sight; and the high walls were of polished panneled wood of dark maple. The sturdy floors of the large salon and dining hall shelved downward to great stone hearths with feeble flames on pine logs. The library alongside, rank with the smell of old volumes, was cold and univiting to a visitor. 

The high-panneled walls of the salon, dining room and corridors were affixed with oils of grim faced ancestors that stared malevolantly at those who dared to look at them. Here and there were banners of heraldy and arms of steel showing their hereditary power. The varied artifacts faced the furnishings of dark mahogany, heavy in weight, yet servicable in their need. 

The bedrooms on the upper storey was equally gloomy and dark that offered rest on curtained four poster beds. Thickly woven drapes covered the lead-lined windows that was rarely opened to the dismal sight of the bleak moors. The cloth closed the haunting sounds when the winds were blowing, shrill and shrewd, upon the setting of the blurred sun. Yet the heavy shades didn’t close the damp air that invaded the chambers with the icy fingers of storm. 

The life of Lady Alica Boscomb, from her childhood to the very door to death itself, was centered in this gloomy atmosphere of the manor. She never knew the love of a man, nor did she ever hear the cryof a mewling child. Her acquaintenances were few in number and their visits were equally few in number.  Only at rare occasions would there be a festive celebration that would lighten the dark and dismal interior and liven the mood of Lady Boscom . 

The somber black of her dress, trailing on the floors and swishing through the manor was fitting to the harsh mood of the manor. Her angular features was stamped with sterness, a gift of her late mother a former consort to the queen of the realm. Her regal snobbish manner,  taught with the rod and shout by her father, a lamented squire of the royal court, added to the dismal atmosphere. 

Boscomb Manor was the only home the dear lady knew; she rarely left the dreariness of its bounds to more pleasant climes. Lady Alica Boscomb, being the elder of the children, inherited the property and she shared it with her two unmarried sisters grudgingly. Both charming ladies were wooed by courtly gentlemen, but denied marriage by their elder sister’s refusal to offer them ample doweries. 

At the end of her days her macabre dying wish was to have her skull to enshrined in the manor where she spend her entire life. A wish cast aside when the grim reaper called. But her close kin had little time for quiet mourning after the somber funeral attended by a few close relatives and loyal servants. 

Several days after the internment of Lady Alica’s remains in the stone vault, the sisters awoke in terror as a ghoulish whispering was heard at the late hours of darkness throughout the manor; mirth and grief intermingled with sighs rang from every corner. They shivered in cold flesh as the eerie sounds rang though the dark corridors. Only at the light of early dawn they were able to put their fears aside and rest their weary bodies. 

The force of the winds added to the wierd noises; the gust that blew from open windows slammed doors nd caused the sighing of the wood panels and staircase. Curtains and cloth hangings were shadowed in a dance of the macabre in their frightening movements. 

The following night hours released the misty shadows that gathered like mustering swarms of spirits that stole from their hidden retreats in the likeness of forms. Then the sight of a screaming skull rose above in phantom illusions and added to the misery of the night hours; it plagued the manor house with strange and gory guttural sounds. The haunting of the boned apparition with its unearthly screams and groans came on the heavy toll of midnight and fell silent on the twelfth stroke. 

At various times stalwart young men, guests of the sisters, prowled the corridors with the light of candlesticks, upon the gory sight; and they tried to follow the eerie sounds echoeing throught the manor. Nightshirt clad and with daggers in their hands, the brave gentlemen searched out every space from the cellar to the attic, but the source of the strange sighting and the wierd sounds eluded them. 

Night after night the noisy commotion of the skull upon the toll of the nighly hour continued in all its terror. The cursed shrieks faded with the shining dome in a final ending of gibbering sounds and lamenting sighs of dying. But if the sisters had put aside their fright they would of heard the dying wish of their late lamented kin. The two sister’s proud bearing faded slowly from their stance and their once handsome features were lined with haggard signs of weariness. 

Then, in desparation, the sisters decided to seek the council and advice from the parish vicar. The entire story was the revealed without ommiting anything. They told of the dying wish of lady Boscome, which in their insight was most strange. After a moment’s pause, the elder cleric reminded them that the wish of the  Lady Alicia Boscomb must be adhered to in all its forms or the screaming skull will appear on the chiming hour; it would call upon the sister to abide by her request before her last breath. Upon this note, he suggested that they open her tomb and fulfill the request. 

The sisters went on the following day to the ornate vault with trepidation in their steps. The stone-faced tomb was set back on the grounds of the cemetery to the village church; The wide stone step to its entrance was strewn with withered flowers from the recent burial. The shriveled blooms were swept aside as one of the sisters made her way to its massive door, and  placed the iron key in the lock. Upon the turn of the key the candle-bearing kin, together with a trusty servant, opened the bronze portal and descended into the vault’s fetid atmosphere. 

When they pushed aside the lid of the stone sarcophagus they saw that the vicar’s sound advice was correct in its wording. The horrific sight of the remains of Lady Alice Boscomb reflected her dying wish. The withered corpse was somehow not decayed with the odour of death, but the head of the remains was bare of flesh and mysteriously severed from her shroud dressed body. The grinning skull rested on the corpse’s chest with shadows dancing in it’s empty sockets. 

The sight of the remains in such a state caused shivers of fear through the bodies of the sisters. Yet, despite the horror of the terrible vision, the kinsfolk’s course was clear in their minds. They decided to follow Lady Alica’s wish to fulfillment and, with fear of the sacred word, removed the skull from the coffin. 

After the tomb was resealed and the bronze to the vault locked once again, the skull was taken to the  manor house. The boned dome was encased in glass and placed as a ghoulish centerpiece in the center of a side table in the salon… and Boscomb Manor was quiet that night and every following night for many years to come. 

Yet, at the toll of midnight, a glow of brilliance was emited from the glass case on the salon table till the final stroke of the chimes.

About the Author

The author is a former correspondent for the Continental News Service (USA), Now retired.

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