The Haunted Farmhouse
There is a farmhouse where the township of Caerphilly fades into the mountains and it was pitter-pattered in these parts that one of its chambers was haunted. In the hush of the night, when all was as quiet as the grave, a deafening din would rouse the living and the dead.
An aged preacher, who wore God as his girdle, decided to spend a night in the beghosted bedchamber and banish the spectre forever. As the noiseless foot of time trotted on, the old-timer drowsed awhile until a sudden sound stirred him from his slumber.
He observed the ghost of a young boy bounding across the room and leaping for all his worth up the face of the far wall. The man of prayer,
Who feared nothing in this world or the next, asked the spirit what it sought. My body, replied the phantom-lad and melted away.
Next day, some farmhands broke down the wall that the ghost had tried to scale and embedded behind was the body of a small boy.
One of the workers, who was as old as the hills, remembered how the masons apprentice had disappeared without a trace when the house was being built; and, all gathered there agreed that the mason had murdered the lad, walling up his body so that nobody would be the wiser of his wretched deed.
Key Contact: Rhymney Valley Tales
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