Falmouth Thirteen: Supernatural Tales From A Cornish Town

By Evie Payne

Spooky thirteen: a collection of supernatural tales set in the coastal resort of Falmouth, in Cornwall. Many of these stories are based on local urban legends and personal experiences from Evie's own childhood in Falmouth during the 1970's. Look out for the well known and less visited landmarks such as Black Rock, Jacob's Ladder, Tregenver School and The Beacon. Whatever you recognise, don't wish you were here...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evie Payne
• Release date: Feb 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005748067

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Falmouth Thirteen

Supernatural Tales From A Cornish Town

Copyright 2020 Evie Payne

Published by Evie Payne at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to all the individuals who helped to make this book happen. The people I met and worked with on the Cornwall Adult Education Creative Writing courses and subsequent critique sessions. The kind volunteers at the Falmouth History Archive, at The Poly, for their knowledge of Falmouth and access to the huge collection of historical documents and photos. Special thanks to Ella Walsworth-Bell for her feedback, suggestions and ongoing support, and her family for welcoming me into their home on Wednesday evenings. Special thanks also, to Kath Morgan for her tuition, guidance, editing, insight and vast knowledge of the writing craft. Most of all, thanks to my wife, Benita, for her patience and understanding during the creation of this book and for her endless love that makes everything worthwhile.

For Mum

Table of Contents

The Black Rock Revenant

The Middle Room

Too Hot And Too Bright

Cliffhanger

The Tunnel

The Beacon Ghost

For The Love Of Abigail Teague

Patch

The Black Cap

Lady Of The Ladder

Night Time At Nana's

Window In Time

Danse Macabre

The Black Rock Revenant

I was nine years old when I first saw him. Christmas Eve, 1972. Dad and I went out for a drive while Mum stayed home and prepared the food for the next day’s Christmas dinner.

It was a wild, stormy day. Along Falmouth’s main street, the Christmas lights strung between the shops swayed and bounced, hammered by the wind. Most of the shops were closed by late afternoon, but the window displays were still lit up. I peered at the festive items in the shop windows, and wished hard that Santa would bring me all I wanted.

As we passed a shop window with a huge stack of wrapped presents, I saw a hand reach down and grab the top present.

‘Dad, Dad. Did you see that?’

‘See what Jack, my boy?’

I told him what I had seen.

He laughed. ‘Another one of your tall tales? Jack-anory, tell a story.’

I knew better than to bother arguing.

‘Shall we have a look and see how rough it is up at the Point, Jack?’

As we approached the car park at Pendennis Point, I could see the spray that blew up from the waves crashing on the rocks below. The car shook with the force of the wind as Dad parked up at the seaward end of the car park, facing the oncoming weather. Clouds of grey and black raced towards us, driven by the south-westerly wind. I asked if I could get out of the car and watch the waves.

‘Wait there, son, I’ll come and open the door for you.’

Dad struggled to open his door, straining against the wind. He came around, opened my door, and I jumped out. As I moved out of the shelter of the door, the wind nearly blew me over. The air was biting cold and heavy with the smell of salt water and rotting seaweed. I heard a deep thud as a wave smashed onto the rocks, followed by a huge curtain of spray that shot up high and blew way over my head. I turned to follow its progress, then broke into a run to see if it would land in the sea on the other side of the point. I heard Dad call my name, so I stopped at the kerb in time to see the spray almost make it to the water. I was about to head back to the car, when I looked out to the Black Rock beacon in the middle of the estuary: a massive cone made of granite blocks and topped off with a huge spherical iron cage mounted on a pole. As my gaze was drawn from the cage down to a big wave that slammed into the side of the beacon, my jaw dropped in shock. A figure. A man. Stood on the leeward side of the conical beacon. He wore dark coloured clothing and waved a stick above his head as if to attract attention. I felt my heartbeat quicken as I turned and tried to run to Dad, but the wind blew so hard I could barely make any progress.

‘Dad! There’s someone out there on the rocks.’

The strong south-westerly stole the words from my mouth and rushed them away to the north-east. Dad was stood next to our red Hillman Minx car, looking out to sea. I glanced back towards Black Rock as I ran. The dark clad figure was still there. I stumbled and my heart skipped a beat, then beat faster. I managed to stop myself from falling, and as I picked up my pace again, Dad turned to face me.

‘Everything all right, Jack?’ he said, a concerned look upon his face.

‘There's a man, out on Black Rock,’ I said pointing behind me.

Dad looked out to the beacon. ‘Surely not in this weather?’

‘There is, there is, honest,’ I said, turning.

As we looked across the half mile to Black Rock, a huge wave crashed against the cone of the beacon and obscured the view of the rocks around the base for a few seconds. When the rocks were visible again, no figure was to be seen.

‘I can’t see him,’ I said.

‘Are you sure this isn’t one of your tall tales?’

‘He was really there, on the left of the marker-cone thingy. He was waving a stick above his head, like this.’ I raised my right arm over my head and waved it from side to side.

I think Dad could tell by the distressed tone of my voice that I was serious.

‘Probably washed off by one of those waves. Let’s see if there’s anyone in the Coastguard station down below. Better let someone know about it.’

As we made our way across the car park, it started pelting with rain. A gust of wind blew us sideways, as if deliberately trying to impede our progress. Dad put his arm around me, his fingers curled firmly and protectively over my shoulder. The late afternoon daylight seemed to grow darker with every step as we headed down to the Coastguard station.

I could hear the waves boom as they smashed against the rocks on the windward side of the headland. Spray from the impact was caught by the wind and lifted up and over the cliff, straight into Dad and I. The icy-cold spray burned my face and made my eyes sting. I gasped in shock; water entered my mouth and nostrils, the salty tang causing a tingling sensation.

The wires and ropes on the flagpole next to the coastguard hut whistled and whined in the wind. Light streamed out from the glass fronted lookout station. Dad steered us along the back of the building to a door on the sheltered side, and knocked hard. The door swung open to reveal a figure silhouetted by the light inside. I could just make out an old man with a wispy beard, a woolly hat pulled down over his ears.

‘Af'noon,’ said the man, ‘Come on in out the rain.’

Dad ushered me into the hut and the man closed the door behind us. The inside of the hut was warm and bright, a stark contrast to the cold and gloom outside. The room smelt of Paraffin fumes and tea. A younger man sat next to a paraffin heater, in front of a huge window that looked out over the bay. An empty chair stood to the other side of the heater.

‘All right chaps.’ The younger man smiled and nodded his head in greeting.

The older man walked past me and Dad, then turned to face us. ‘That there’s Davey Nancholas, and I’m Bill Trewen. Now, how can we help ‘ee?’

I noticed the brown, timeworn skin on the small area visible between Bill’s beard and his hat.

Dad put his hands on my shoulders. ‘Jack reckons he saw someone out on Black rock.’

‘Did ‘ee indeed?’ Bill looked at me, then glanced over his shoulder. ‘Davey, have a gander over at Black Rock will ‘ee?’

‘On it, boss,’ Davey said. He picked up the biggest pair of binoculars I had ever seen, and aimed them towards Black Rock.

‘Now tell us what happened, young Master Jack?’ Bill said.

I drew my eyes away from the binoculars and back towards Bill. I noticed the look on his face, eyes open wide and mouth a fixed grin. I knew that look. I’d seen the same look on Dad’s face when he thought I was telling one of my ‘tall tales’. Bill didn’t believe me, but I recounted what had happened anyway. When I’d finished, Bill turned to look at Davey, who gave a quick shake of his head.

When Bill looked back, I noticed his expression had changed, the fixed grin became feigned concern. The eyes narrowed, but I could see the mirth in them.

‘Right then,’ Bill said. ‘Could be he’s still out there but we can’t see him in the fading light, or he’s possibly been swept off by the waves. So ‘ere’s what I suggest; Davey and I will keep an eye out, and if we see him, then the lifeboat will be summoned quicker than you can say Cornish clotted cream. How does that sound?’

I knew there was no point in arguing. ‘That sounds like the best idea, Sir, thank you.’

‘Thank you, for taking the time to let us know. I wish you a very happy Christmas.’

Dad returned the courtesy and we left the hut. It was full dark outside and the storm raged around us, so we hurried back to the car. Once inside, Dad started the engine and said, ‘Better get back and tell your Mum what’s happened. She’s probably wondering where we’ve gotten to.’

I was angry that Bill didn’t believe me, but as Dad and