Links
Blog Archive
-
►
2011
(984)
- Dec 2011 (57)
- Nov 2011 (88)
- Oct 2011 (87)
- Sep 2011 (89)
- Aug 2011 (80)
- Jul 2011 (73)
- Jun 2011 (90)
- May 2011 (75)
- Apr 2011 (92)
- Mar 2011 (89)
- Feb 2011 (89)
- Jan 2011 (75)
-
►
2010
(1095)
- Dec 2010 (50)
- Nov 2010 (101)
- Oct 2010 (88)
- Sep 2010 (98)
- Aug 2010 (79)
- Jul 2010 (105)
- Jun 2010 (91)
- May 2010 (91)
- Apr 2010 (96)
- Mar 2010 (106)
- Feb 2010 (102)
- Jan 2010 (88)
-
►
2009
(1136)
- Dec 2009 (81)
- Nov 2009 (96)
- Oct 2009 (103)
- Sep 2009 (113)
- Aug 2009 (103)
- Jul 2009 (112)
- Jun 2009 (85)
- May 2009 (100)
- Apr 2009 (99)
- Mar 2009 (107)
- Feb 2009 (74)
- Jan 2009 (63)
-
▼
2008
(990)
- Dec 2008 (65)
- Nov 2008 (81)
- Oct 2008 (77)
- Sep 2008 (75)
- Aug 2008 (60)
- Jul 2008 (97)
- Jun 2008 (80)
- May 2008 (87)
- Apr 2008 (130)
- Mar 2008 (73)
- Feb 2008 (87)
- Jan 2008 (78)
Tuesday, 29 July 2008

The Devil's Grave
Back on the east coast of Norfolk in England the fishing communities prospered, and great fleets hauled in full nets from the mighty herring shoals. It was said that in the biggest harbour at Great Yarmouth during the fishing season, so large was the fleet from all over England and Europe, that you could walk over a mile across the tightly moored ships and smell the gutting of the herring, carried out by thousands of women who came to the area.
Not all the communities joined in the new way of life. The little village of Sea Palling got on with its laying of crab cages and harvesting the reeds for thatching. Babies were born, old folk died, and the seasons moved across the wide horizon.
Memories remained and legends were created. Along the beach where they say there was once a causeway, even the tough grass never grew. Folk from the villages around never liked to walk on that stretch of coast, especially when the winds change direction and came from the north-east to send their salty sprays crashing upon the land.
If the locals are not too frightened they will tell how on such nights a ghostly spectre can be seen rising from the marshes. A body of a beautiful woman ascends from the badlands, tempting in form and singing to those who would listen. But when the unwary approach, the woman turns into a horrible, cruel and evil reincarnation of the devil, slimy body crying out for mercy and deliverance from her eternal damnation in the muddy pit of the earth.
The Devil's Grave is not marked on any map. It is said that if the ghost of Lady Camilla has recognition in spoken or written word, her power will return and haunt the old district of Lothingland.
– Anon
Labels:
did-you-know?,
great-yarmouth,
stories


