The Bloth and the secret of Jadrel

I expect you know this place is haunted. It may not be the most haunted place in Bristol, that's probably across the road at Arnos Manor Hotel, but The Black Castle is still one very special site.

So, I'm going to tell you a ghost story, but one with a twist. First, though, I want you to tell me what you think of my costume. Come on... I'm only asking for the first thing that enters your head.

(Brief ad-lib.)

Well, I'll tell you. Some people say I look like an evil hippy, but I'm not. I'm a Bloth. None the wiser? Bloth – Blithe Goth.

I used to be an absolute Goth, and travelled deep into the dark side of life. So deep and so dark that the only light I could see was in myself. I became my own guiding light, and that was a complete liberation. Now I'm as free as I can be. You could say I'm a Free Goth – but if you put that together you get Froth – so don't go there. I prefer blithe anyway, and I still love the Goth way, so I'm both. I'm Bloth.

And I can prove I'm more than just a Goth – would a pure Goth chat with you like this? In the daytime? No way! But I'm not really fussed over the name. Life's too short. Jadrel taught me that.

She's the main 'ghost' here. Loads of people have noticed her, she could be here now, watching us with a mischievous smile and twinkling eyes... She's strange. It's like The Black Castle was built around her – quirky, compelling and full of life. You know, you'd have to be mad, or a genius addicted to mysteries, to dream up a gothic masterpiece like this. It's as if a wormhole opened up in spacetime and sucked this alien architecture out of its world, transplanting it into the heart of Brislington.

Did you notice the iridescence of the masonry as you came in? It's subtle, but The Black Castle isn't black at all – the stone shines with spectral colours that don't wholly belong to our world. And the spirit that walks here – Jadrel – belongs to that other world too.

You can look her up the books on local ghosts. She makes things move (weird huh?) You put something down, look aside for an instant, and it's no longer where you left it. She plays tricks – opens doors, flashes the lights, casts shadows that prowl around the rooms and dance in the courtyard on moonlit nights. Some people call her a poltergeist and fear her paranormal activities; but she's no nuisance, and her antics are played in jest. She's really just poking fun at us.

A lot of people think the ghost here is a nun. Well, if this nun has the anarchic charm of Maria in the Sound of Music, combined with the uninhibited glamour of a vamp, then yes, Jadrel could pass muster as a nun! But rather than looking askew at the way people drink and canoodle here, she would happily join in! But Jadrel does have her more serious side.

If I catch myself off guard, turning a corner, or simply glancing around in a reverie, I glimpse another shape to these walls, another decor – richly carved and brimming with antiquities. That is her world, Jadrel's castle. It's like a parallel dimension. And I've seen her. She's a buxom young gal with a riotous mane of hair that could just about be mistaken – in shadowy silhouette – for a nun's wimple.

But Jadrel's real home is deep beneath these floors, below the cellars, in a labyrinth of secret passageways where, in halls of silence hewn from living rock, she tends to the needs of victims wounded in random encounters with the razor-sharp rush of life.

Like a mirror to her world, a hidden tunnel actually runs from this building under the road to what was, a lifetime ago, a convent that took in destitute women who had turned to crime to survive. But whereas the convent was a penitentiary that schooled its wards by punishing their sins, Jadrel's ministry has always been cheerful, she is a healer, bringing release from burdens and the easing of pain.

Who knows how the creator of this magnificent folly, William Reeve, would have developed this site 250 years ago, had his finances kept pace with his vision. But he ran headlong into bankruptcy. Perhaps he did create secret chambers deep beneath us, intuitively following Jadrel. Perhaps that is why he was expelled from the religious fraternity of which he had been a lifelong member..?

Jadrel lives a secret life, as do all those melancholic patients she helps nurse back to health. They hide for fear of persecution. Their fields are full of herds like ours, but their's are not kept for daily milking, they produce sustainable supplies of another life-giving drink. Jadrel and her kind are Vourdaki, what we would call vampires.

How she crosses over into our world I can't say, but she alone seems to have this special power. And no-one has ever complained of being attacked by her, she brings us only her merry pranks. In fact, I don't believe she can come into our world, physically, but uses telekinesis – moving objects with her mind – to make her presence felt (phenomena we interpret as a poltergeist).

Jadrel would never drain us of our life-force like some Hollywood vampire. She strives to enliven us and wake us up to a wider, wilder reality. She is a free spirit, yet she's as devoted to her sacred, healing art as any cloistered nun.

As I say, she may be here now, watching like a cub in the security of its den, mustering courage to step out among us. She prefers to stay in the half-light, cautious and uncertain of the reception we would give her, but if she could only sense we are ready to accept her here, among us now, she may show us she's here, if only for a moment. But it's no good staring around, we must use a softer sense. Close your eyes if you will, and simply breathe...

Her coming is as a flower that unfurls – a dusk-red rose with velvet petals edged in violet. Her fragrance is the rich decadence of eternity.

(Pause.)

Once again, I am asking you for the first thing that enters your head. Now. So eyes open, but don't tell me what you thought. It's not a message for me...

We have shared her story, and my time here is over. If a little of Jadrel's liveliness lingers with us as we leave, we shall all be brighter for it, and she will be undiminished.

Thank you for coming, go with good cheer.

© 2010 Ken Taylor