Chapter Sixteen
21st December
0940hrs
"Mr. Chase, I have to tell you, I can't just let you visit a resident who you have no relation to, four days before Christmas and right during morning tea time".
"I'm sorry, Sister, but he's a good friend of my best friend's father, who's passed away recently. My friend is out of the country and he can't just ring up the Padre and tell him over the phone, so he sent me".
"So being told of death over the phone is worse then being told by a stranger?"
The large breasted nurse crossed her oddly muscular arms over her chest and seemed unimpressed by his pleas. She reminded him of the incredibly vicious nurse from One flew over the cuckoo's nest… who's name was very similar to a certain deceased Autobot. He never dared mention that, but was sure the Twins had somehow found out about it and made the CMO a little paper cap.
"I realise its highly unorthodox and slightly inappropriate but please, ma'am, my friend says that the Padre has information regarding where his father was to be buried and a few other important…"
"Look, okay, I accept what you're saying and where you're coming from but the good Padre is demented".
"Demented? How bad is it?"
"He's nuttier then squirrel shit is the most professional way I can class it".
She said firmly.
"Well, then is there really any harm in talking to him?"
The nurse looked at him for a moment and whether it from realisation he wasn't going to go away or pity for his condition, she relented.
"Alright".
She turned and screamed a female's name that Chip couldn't quite catch down the hall. A few moments later a skinny African girl arrived. She spoke in an obviously foreign accent with a few difficulties with the English grammar.
"Take this gentleman to visit Padre McGirr, then go make sure the sluice room is clean. I saw Mandy go in there with a pan full of Mr. Stanley's shit and you know what kind of damage that does to the plumbing".
The large nurse waddled off towards the staff room. Chip wondered about how it was she kept her job with such a demeanour.
"I have to give apology about Nurse Wilson, she can be most often very unpleasant to many new people".
Her words made sense, but she obviously needed to take more classes in how to apply English to daily situations.
He wheeled himself down the faded carpeted hallway towards what he hoped would be a private discussion with the Padre. He considered the sense of carpet in such a place as he started to notice a few too many different coloured stains. He didn't have long to wonder as to the origin of those stains and if his wheels would remain clean as they reached a door. The name of the Priest was written in shaky lettering on a small whiteboard next to the door. The young woman knocked and entered, she said something which Chip couldn't catch and then she left, smiling at him and indicating he could enter. The man took a deep breath and manoeuvred himself in.
Father Tobias McGirr was sitting in a large, faded looking lazy boy chair; there was a few specs of rust on the hinges that held up the footrest. The priest had well worn slippers on his long feet, one was barely hanging on. He had light grey track pants and a heavy brown woollen cardigan over a blue and red checked shirt. He bore evidence of lack of concern for his appearance as he hadn't been shaven in maybe two days and his remaining hairs were greasy and with no sign of having had been combed. His glasses were those old plastic ones, the big squares covered in smudges hiding faded green eyes. He had what looked to be scrambled egg caked on his chin and some drips of tea were soaked into his clothing. He had a mushed up biscuit or cake sitting in front of him that he was pushing around the small plate with a plastic spoon.
"Hello, Father. My name's Chip Chase, you don't know me…"
"I know you".
"That's impossible, Father, we've just met…"
"You're Chip Chase, aren't you?"
"Yeah".
"Then I know you".
"But how…"
"You just introduced yourself, so now I know you".
He seemed more quick witted then suffering from dementia, Chip mused inwardly.
"What, you think an old man can't be clever?"
The old man of the cloth looked up at him, intentionally staring over his glasses, revealing those faded green eyes.
"What can I do for you kid?"
It didn't matter how old he good, or how many greys sprouted from his head, Chip was certain he'd go to his grave still being called Kid by someone.
"Ah, you knew Ron Witwicky?"
"Sparkplug? Sure. Heard he died a few years back, very sad. His ticker, right?"
"Yeah".
"He always had trouble with that".
"So, you one of his bastard sons?"
"Excuse me?"
"Sparkplug was a whizz at picking up ladies, I, of course, tried to discourage that, but he always found himself into some girl's bed. Broke a lot of hearts".
Maybe he was demented…
"Ah… no, I'm one of Spike's friends".
"Oh, yeah, Spike. How's he doing? He still dating that blond girl… the smart one?"
"Carly?"
"Yeah, that's her name, Carly".
"They're married now".
"Really? That's great. In a catholic Church I hope?"
"Ah… it was in a garden with a protestant minister".
"Protestant? Really? In a garden? What did Spark say about that?"
"He said it was there choice".
"Oh, I bet he did".
"I didn't think Sparkplug was Catholic?"
"Oh, no, he's not, I nagged him a few times to get him to join up, but he was happy where he was, and when he met that lovely wife of his… oh, I forget her name…"
"I can't recall either, and Spike never talked about his mum".
"So what about you, Chip, you got yourself a girl?"
"Ah… not as yet".
"You not one of those guys who beds guys, are ya?"
The priest leaned and while only kidding seemed almost serious, before Chip could reply with some form of shock the Padre was racked with laugher as he lent back in his chair.
"Oh, you kids these days, even with all the gay rights and what not you still get all worked up over an unfounded accusation".
Chip baulked in his chair and breathed out heavily, rather annoyed and becoming impatient.
"Okay, okay, sorry, now, Mr. Chip Chase, what is it that has bought you here to day? Can't be to reminisce about a man who was your friend's father?"
"Actually, Padre…"
"Oh, no need to be so formal, just Toby will be fine".
"Okay, Toby, I came to ask you about some experiences that Sparkplug had that Spike told me about".
"Oh yes, what kind of… experiences?"
"Ghosts".
"Ghosts you say, how spooky like".
The priest faked a shudder and took a swig from his thickened coffee, it looked positively disgusting, but the priest seemed happy just to have the smell and taste of it, even if it was thick and gluggy, and in parts gritty where the thickener hadn't been mixed through enough to dissolve.
The priest seemed to focus for a moment and somewhere inside his aging gray matter he was making connections to find his memories and knowledge around the subject. Chip meanwhile was taking in his surrounds, trying to do it discreetly. The room was small and badly coloured. That same faded carpet existed in here, it might have been a once bright gold or perhaps an orange or maybe just a tan, but now it was really quite nasty looking, the same array of stains continued in here. The wall paper was peeling from various parts of the wall and was a pea soup kind of green with brown spots that somehow managed to resemble flowers. The curtains were a dark pink and really stood out against the wall paper. There were light flimsy nets that sat behind them, they were grubby around the edges and full of holes, and it did little to hide the filth that caked the window behind. There was his bed in the corner which was a normal bed, certainly nothing you'd find in a hospital or any reputable rest home. It was covered with a light yellow floral duvet that did little to hide that the bedding under it was poorly made, as there were large creases and bumps protruding from under. There was a bed side table with a lamp that had no shade, a small cup that was possibly for his teeth and a photo of the Sacred Heart. A rosary sat in front, and it was probably the most expensive item in the room – and certainly the most valuable to the priest. A desk sat against the wall under a mirror, it was covered with more religious icons, an image of the Immaculate Heart and a crucifix that was propped up against the wall as the stand had broken off. The closet door was broken off and the scientist could see the array of cheap and heavily worn clothing dangling inside.
"You finished taking in my life?"
The priest asked suddenly, startling Chip.
"Um… ah… sorry".
"Hahaha, its okay, I'm just Joshing ya! But it makes you think, doesn't it kid? I took a vow of poverty so this is really no shock to me, but there are people in this place who spent their whole lives in the pursuit of wealth, who came from giant homes with cooks and butlers and things no man could ever really need and then through their own bad actions or just bad luck they end up here. And they've got to fit what's ever left of the life into one, small room".
The padre took a spoon of the mashed biscuit.
"What about you, son, what do you pursue?"
"The truth".
Chip said without hesitation.
"The truth, you say? There's a whole book dedicated to it in that desk draw over that way".
Chip reached over and opened it, it was the bible.
"Um… okay".
"Haha, you're an easy mark, son!"
The certainly not demented priest replied good naturedly, with absolutely no intention of trying to convert his visitor.
"So… ghosts. And you're after the truth?"
Toby wriggled his toes in his loose slippers and Chip became aware of one such toe poking out the tip of the left one.
"Now, you do know, that the word ghost and truth might not really go well together, I'm sure there's some people who could say there are scientific explanations for what I've experienced for what I've seen and they will slap me into a straight jacket and dump me in some windowless cell to rant and rave till I pass out from effort. You need to understand, Chip, that when talking about ghosts or any of those big subjects, that the truth may be there, but people may not want to acknowledge it. What's true for me is not true for you and you won't want to view my truth as truth because it will contradict your truth. And I'd wager that for a man who's pursuit is the truth, to have something that contradicts what you think is truth, might make you angry to realise you have the wrong truth – which will make you start wondering about all the things in your life you class as truth".
The Padre could certainly talk.
"What I'm trying to say to you kid, is you have to take what I say on the subject with a pound of salt, you might not want to hear it, it might make you feel uneasy about what you have based your life on, and that's okay, that's normal, but if you're truthfully after truth, then you must acknowledge you could be focussing on the wrong truth".
Toby reached into the slightly ripped pocket on his cardie and took out a hankie; he blew his nose, which sounded like a fog horn. He flicked the scrunched up snot rag on to his table and the corner of it flopped mindlessly into a smear of biscuit that sat on the table.
"See, it wasn't that long ago that people thought the world was flat – that was their truth, and then some guy decided that it wasn't truth and he decided to test it. He proved it. So then you have all these people who didn't sail around the globe, so to have someone who has tell them that he did and he didn't drop off into space, well, that's hard to take. They have to believe what he is saying, his experience, is truth, when they don't' have the experience to understand that as truth. But then soon some of them would have got on a ship and sailed over the horizon and lo and behold they're still alive and not floating in space. They now have the experience; they can now change their truth. Truth is fluid. It doesn't just stay still, it moves around us. There's only one constant Truth, one always solid, always steady, unwavering Truth, and that would be God, and since God is Truth, you seek God without even knowing it. But you're not here to talk about God; you're here to talk about truth and ghosts. Now, I see you as the guy I'm trying to tell I sailed around the world and didn't fall off, your truth is you know the world is flat, that's your truth, my truth is based on experience which says it isn't flat. Ghost for me are truth, but you may not have that experience so it may not be your truth, so in fact, ghosts may be a figment of over active, aged imaginations and that for you, is truth, for you, I'm wrong, and that's your truth".
He was certainly a smart man, Chip wondered if his intelligence and understanding came with age or had simply always existed. Would Chip end up like this gentlemen in 40 years or so? Would the nursing staff who would care for him when he was shitting into a bag or drinking sloppy biscuits think he was demented because they didn't understand his truth or his knowledge? It was a sad thought, really.
"So, you want to know my truth of ghosts?"
"Yeah".
"I know Sparkplug told Spike a thing or two about what he's seen, about his truth?"
"Yeah".
"Did he tell Spike the story about how he chased some dead guy into the forest after a village raid?"
"Yeah, and Spike told me, its certainly…"
"Unbelievable?"
"That's one way of phrasing it".
"Its truth to Sparkplug but not to many others".
The priest replied rather stoically.
"You got any specific query or you more after a broader consideration?"
"Actually, I have to confess to you Father, I have seen things recently that science can't explain. I seek the truth, and so far in my life the truth has said ghosts do not exist. But I experienced what many would give the term of "ghost" to. So now my truth is being challenged. I just want to know what other people, to people who ghosts are a "truth" for would class the experience as, or why it's happening".
"I see".
The priest nodded as he looked down at his table momentarily.
"What I really would like to know, Padre, is why is this happening? If the experiences are caused by ghosts then why are the ghosts doing it?"
The priest looked up at the scientist for a moment and studied the expression on his face.
"And its not just been me who's experienced things, there's a friend of mine, and his seek for truth is just as scientifically minded as mine, and he's at a total loss, and when he's at a loss, it says a lot".
The Padre laughed quietly, more to himself, and certainly not in a way that was meant as an insult.
"Alright, there a few general thoughts out there about "ghosts" or their nature. From the Christian perspective there's no dead people floating about, when you dead you either go to Heaven or Hell, instead, ghosts of people are merely demons taking their form, the reason they know things, like their kid's name or where they died, when "speaking" through those medium con artists, its because the demon was a familiar spirit, so they know a few things about the person and can relay that through to the living. Now, we can get into a big theological debate as to why a demon would do this, but that's not your interest".
He cleared his throat.
"There's another more science minded thought, where energy is used to explain these "ghosts". Basically, energy can't be destroyed; it can only be dispersed or reformed. Sometimes if a violent act like a rape, or someone dies a horrid death in a place their "brain energy" or "psychic" energy or just energy is dispersed and imprinted into that location, so some people will report hearing screaming or banging or get the feeling that there's something really nasty there. Sometimes that energy can start to fade as it seeps out and then one day its gone, or people can push it outwards. Essentially it dilutes. If you have a spoon of red colour and you put it in a spoon of water you'll have very red water, if you put it in a glass of water it'll be noticeable absolutely, or if you put it in a bathtub you might just see a tinge, or if you put in the ocean you won't see anything".
He stirred his now cool coffee sludge. It had thickened to something that looked like a brick.
"There's still a spoon of red, its just in so much water its hard to see it, and so some will say "oh, I can't see the red, that means there was never red". But they're wrong, that's not truth, but its their truth".
Chip nodded.
"Another train of thought is that it is a dead person's spirit, and you tend to find this mindset in more Paganistic or primiative religions. And that's their truth. In that mindset the ghost hangs around because either they want to make sure their family and friends are okay, or they've got unfinished business or for some reason they can't "cross over", its all about experience and what a person's truth is regarding how they interpret it".
"So".
Chip asked.
"What do you believe? What's your truth?"
"My truth is that its probably not as black and white as some mean spirited devil, my truth is that its probably all of those situations. Every situation is different. As a priest I can tell you my truth is there are demons that do this sort of thing, I've always been in situations where its probably the energy dispersed by an event, and there are also been situations I've been involved in where it was a dead person after unfinished business".
"Do you have some examples?"
Chip asked.
"Sure, sure, I won't bore you with the demon experiences since I don't think that's what you're after, but I once came into a house of a woman who said she kept hearing screams and banging and had the terrible feeling that someone was in there watching her and meant her harm. The house was new and an extensive geographical history proved nothing, no ancient Apache burial ground, no hobo grave yard or some old house where a cat lady died surrounded in one big health hazard that had to be flattened. However, what we discovered, was during the construction of the house, a group of frat boys raped a girl in the house before it was completed. Now, she didn't die, but it was a horrific event – that is an example of the violent event creating a negative energy that bonds to a physical object. In those situations there's really not much you can do but pray to God that He removes it, or just try and wait it out. Once she knew what it was, that it would disperse, she was able to tolerate it and eventually, ten years later, she reported no experiences".
"Wow".
Chip responded.
"Now with unfinished business, that can be anything from the person being unable to let go of something or having not completed something. One experience was a woman who had tried to have a child for years, who had spent three or four fortunes on IVF and even had tried adopting from China and Russia and even tried buying kids on the black market, she was still childless".
"And she started haunting a children's hospital?"
"No, no, let me finish kid, seesh".
The priest held up his aged hand, Chip noticed a few gouty nodules.
"Now, this woman, I never met her in person, I was told this all by her sister, she finally got pregnant, and it was indeed a miracle, because the reason she was going for IVF and adoption and all of those things was due to some kind of women's illness down there, I forget which, but she was about 39 and her boss came to her and said here's this great new job opportunity and you need to go to our London office, or it might have been Paris, I'm an old man, you must forgive my memory. Anyhow, she basically had to spend the next few years of her life jet setting for this great job she'd always wanted, but now she was pregnant and that kid was one great big road block to her job. So, she had an abortion, and how tragic there was some horrid complication and she had to have an emergency hysterectomy, but it didn't help, she spent the next week dying in hospital from an infection. The whole time she wept over how she had the child she had always wanted but threw them away for a job that she wasn't going to be able to enjoy. She never came to terms with it and so when she died, she started haunting her former work place. I came to this experience when a parishioner told me her son worked there and that all these things were happening that were creepy and unexplained. Things like important documents going missing and computers failing an oftentimes a crying woman could be heard in the toilet – she miscarried multiple IVF pregnancies in that bathroom. Not to mention, photos of employees' children and babies would disappear and be found in the bathroom or would fall off desks without any physical interference. Also, when I went to investigate at the hospital where she died, several staff told me of seeing a figure walking through the newborn unit leaning over the babies. But her range of haunting didn't stop there, I have it on good authority that the clinic where her abortion was done, well, a former employee told me that she'd often see a woman standing at the gate looking very sad indeed, and it didn't take the woman long to realise it wasn't a living woman, but she noticed one day this woman was trying to stop other patients coming in – of course not a lot a non-physical form can do to stop a physical one. Now, obviously, that woman had a lot of "unfinished" business. What we did was we organised an event with her closest friends and family and we went to her grave and placed "congratulations on your new arrival" and threw her a baby shower. We hoped our actions would reunite her with her aborted child in the afterlife, we even had a birth certificate with the name she had always wanted to give a child placed on it, of course, it wasn't legal. The other thing we did was have the child's name engraved into her headstone. And it worked. After that the woman's spirit was never seen again, by any of the sources".
The Padre sighed and looked at Chip to see if he was still following or had fobbed him off the moment he started talking about the dreaded and oh so controversial "A" word. The young scientist was still intently focussed though.
"Now, sometimes, the person's spirit isn't so intent on something so sad and tragic, rather an object, like a child. There are many children's' ghosts who hang around for a toy or comforter like a blanket. I've had an experience where a small child was hit and killed by a car that lost control on the road outside his house. He would always carry around this scruffy looking toy dog with floppy ears. And the day he was killed it was taken to the hospital with him and somewhere in the facility it was misplaced. The child would often be seen at his house searching his bedroom and even hospital employees would say they saw that boy. Now, the parents moved away right after as the mother couldn't bare the pain of being so close to where her son had been, all those memories were too much. It was the new owners who would see the child and 20 years later, the father of the child started to talk some more and it was discovered about this toy. Long story short, they found the toy in some dirty pile of boxes down in the hospital basement, it was mouldy and soggy and for all intents and purposes it should have been thrown in the nearest landfill. But the staff member, who found it, saw it still had the name of the child on it, he did a computer search, found the child was dead, found the parents and sent them the toy. They then placed it at the gravesite and lo and behold, the child was never seen again".
Chip was really not sure how to reply and after sitting there in silence looking at the creases in his hands for a few moments, he realised the Padre was asleep.
He scribbled a note on the large white board on the door that said "Why you were out I visited and…"
Chip then left the rest home.
He clambered himself into his car and put the key into the ignition.
"Did you obtain logically astute and scientifically viable information?"
Perceptor sat in microscope mode on the front passenger seat.
"Yeah".
The man pulled out of the car park and began the journey back to the city.
"Its just a hell of a lot to take in, Percy".
--
Author's NB: I've heard ghost stories like those I've described and they are creepy as stink. I can tell you, in my job I get to see all sorts of things and the spiritual aspect of life is included. Anyway, I actually started this chapter thinking it'd be a short chat between Chip and a crazy old priest but then the whole concept of Truth developed and lo and behold it wound out as ten pages. Eeep.