Ep.43 The Coffin That Cannot Touch Holy Ground - Fan Voted Request

Ihanaa, linnut laulaa ja narsisit loistaa, joko sinä olet monganut kevään merkkeä. No todennäkin, misellinen uutusrenkaat Euromasterilla, esimerkiksi primasyviisi-enerkyön AA-alua kannuhuippurengas ja löytyy hän Euromasterilla paljon muitakin kesärenkaita, testivoitteista edullisempiin Euromaster Pistefi. Euromasteren. Renkaat ja autohuolta. Täällä on tullut. Täällä, että se on tullut. Täällä on tullut. Täällä on tullut. Täällä on tullut. Täällä on tullut. Täällä on tullut. [Musiikkia] All right, so if you remember, and I know this is a little while ago, but I put a thing up in my stories of this crazy story about this coffin that is literally sitting and teetering on top of a wall at Eddington Priory Church. Now, this coffin was meant to never touch sacred ground. So, this became a thing, and I asked you guys what you thought, and if you wanted a full episode on this, and you guys voted yes. So, this is like a creepy crew community fan requested episode. So, I am really excited about this, because as I went down this rabbit hole, when I do, when I research, I just loved the story. It's creepy, it's British, and I love it, so we are going to get into this. So, I'm going to go ahead, I'm going to share just a little bit of this with you, and I want you guys to imagine right now that you're walking through a quiet English village in Wiltshire. The kind of place with thatched cottages, sit alongside ancient stone walls, where the air smells like rain and grass, like, ugh, seriously. I'm picturing like fog in a cup of coffee. This is beautiful already, I can tell. So, you're taking a path that you've walked like a hundred times before, okay? And maybe you grew up here, maybe you're just passing through on one of those gray English afternoons, and then someone points up and says, "Hey, have you seen the witches coffin?" And you look at the perimeter wall of the old primary church, and there it is. A stone coffin perched on top of the wall. Not, you know, tucked into a niche, not part of the architecture. This is literally sitting on top, okay? And then, I've covered in I.B. slowly being consumed by time in nature, and for the record, I love pictures of abandoned places that have gotten taken over by nature, like, they're beautiful. And so, this is just there, this coffin, right? Balanced between the sacred ground below, and empty air. And the first thought is probably like, "What the fuck?" Right? Your second thought is probably, "Okay, who's in there?" And then your third thought is probably the one that makes our skin, like, prickle even on a warm day. Why is it there? Right? So, all right, everybody. I am super stoked, and this is definitely not, like, an elaborate folklore. Today, this is definitely real. As always, I'm all about the documented cases. And what's really interesting about this too is it's also pretty perplexing, even though there is documentation, because nobody really knows what the whole actual story is here. And that absence of truth, to me, that's what makes this genuinely creepy. So, this is the story of the coffin at Eddington Priory Church. And it was the coffin that was never allowed to touch holy ground. So, go grab your favorite, Babby, get cozy, and let's do this. All right, let's go to Eddington. It is a small village in Wiltshire, England, about six kilometers east of Westbury, which, you know, I'm not good with, like, kilometers. I have no idea what that equates to in, like, miles or anything. I do not know. Population-wise, we're talking maybe, like, a few hundred people. It's the kind of place where everybody, like, knows everybody. It's kind of, like, a Cheers village, if you remember, Cheers, where the local pub is, like, your social center, and where you might not even notice something weird, until someone points it out to you. The village itself sits on the edge of Salisbury Plain. And if you know anything about that area, you know it's got, like, immense history, just dripping from every stone. This where, actually, King Alfred, the Great, defeated the Danes, back, and this is crazy wicked, back in, like, 1878 AD, like, damn. And this was actually the battle, if my memory serves right, it's the Battle of Ethan Dunn. So we're talking, like, Foundational English History here. So it's the kind of battle that changes the trajectory of a nation. Huh, hmm. That's interesting, and rather ironic, but we're not here for Alfred today. We're here for that damn coffin. So now the priori church of St. Mary, St. Catherine, and all Saints, dominates the village, okay. It was consecrated, and this is so gnarly, it was consecrated in 1361. I can't even fathom what life must have been like back then. Because we're talking about a building that's been standing for over 660 years. That is some crazy fucking architecture, like, seriously, it is grade one listed, which in British terms means it's architecturally and historically significant. Yeah, you bet your sweet ass per creme at us. Like, the church is this beautiful example of the transition between decorated and perpendicular, like, Gothic architecture. And I'm absolutely, I've got pictures of this. I'm putting pictures up of this because you've got to see it. I will definitely have a good amount available to you guys because this is just, oh, like, I could just, like, I want to absorb. All the pictures, like, into my very being and bloodstream, like, not to be too morbid or creepy because like, oh, I want to, I just want to see it. I would just stand in front of this place for hours I swear. Now, when you see it, you'll understand also why it survived the desolution of the monastery's because it is magnificent. I cannot say this enough. Like, honestly, I'm really pumped up about this if you can't tell. Now, inside there are medieval tombs, stained glass windows that have survived centuries, a plaster-vulted ceiling that makes you hold your breath. This is not some, like, forgotten ruin. This is an active parish church where people still worship to this day where a famous music festival happens every August. Oh, my gosh, the acoustics in there. I've got to sell so amazing. Oh, my goodness. Okay. Now, also tour groups come to, you know, marvel at this medieval craftsmanship. which like absolutely. Now, on the perimeter wall, the boundary between the church yard and the neighboring property, there's a stone coffin. And here's what we know for sure, is that the coffin absolutely exists. Absolutely. There's pictures of it. We've posted it, as you know, you guys voted, all that good stuff. Now, it's definitely not an urban legend. It's not a trick of the light. Multiple people have photographed it. People have written about it. Try to investigate it. It's a stone coffin carved with some ornate decorations that are now being slowly overtaken by Ivy. Now, I will tell you, too, this is where if you haven't listened to the past episode of Archden Stone or oh my gosh, I can't believe I just put you in that. Yeah, no, it is Archden Stone. Okay, it is the book with Gina Black. And I thought that I said that backwards because sometimes I'm dyslexic. So I'm sorry, but you this book, you need this book. Like if you're a cemetery goer and you enjoy touring cemeteries, this is like your must-have guide to understand what some of the depictions are on tombstones and what they represent. And like all the different lore that goes into cemeteries, like the book is just seriously a masterpiece, if I do say so myself. And Gina, if I'm if you're listening, like girl, I love you. I love your book so much. I can't tell you how many times I've referenced it. It is a must-have. But anyway, moving on, it sits on top of a wall. And this coffin is like not embedded in it. It's not part of the original construction. It's on top of it, like precariously balanced according to some of the description. Now the wall itself marks the boundary of consecrated ground. So inside the wall, and outside the wall, not holy. And this coffin is literally on the line. Now even locals sometimes don't even know that it's actually there. Like one person who photographed it, mentioned it to villagers who had no idea that the coffin even existed, which is really interesting. So think about that. Like something that strange, that visually striking, that kind of wrong somehow, and people who live there just walk right past it without even seeing it. Like that's kind of crazy, right? Like I don't know. Like I'm a little bit baffled by that. But this is also what gets me, the invisibility of it. The way like something so bizarre can just kind of fade into the background until someone actually asks like, "Hey, what the hell is that?" Right? So what's the story? Right? Like who's inside this? What's happening? So the most common explanation that you'll hear is this. It's the final resting place of an excommunicated monk. Someone who was cast out of the church, denied the sacraments, spiritually severed from the body of Christ. Like Jesus, like no pun intended. But that seems awfully like severe, doesn't it? Spiritually severed? Like good. I don't, that is just, that sounds so morbid to me. Like I don't know. And because this monk was technically considered excommunicated, he couldn't be buried then in consecrated ground. Cannon Law was very, very, very fucking clear about this. Like I kid you not. But here's where it also gets really interesting. Because they didn't just like dump this monk anywhere or somewhere. They put him as close to the holy ground as possible without actually touching it. So on the wall, the boundary, the liminal space between salvation and damnation. So it's like this punishment and a mercy all at once. Now some locals call it the witch's coffin, right? Which adds another layer of some serious dark folklore. And other suggests it might be an unbaptized child. Because in medieval times, unbaptized babies were also denied burial in consecrated ground. Desperate mothers would place them as close to the churchyard as they could, hoping that proximity to holiness might count for something in the afterlife. Oh my gosh, that is just so. Oh, that just kind of made my heart sink a little bit, thinking about that. I don't like it. Okay, there's this heartbreaking passage. And I'm gonna be honest, I'm gonna try really hard to say, it right. Test of the d'Ubervai. I totally get it butchered. I'm so sorry. Oh, hang on, just give me a verse verb. Yeah, okay. So I'm just gonna spell it for you. It's test of the d'apostrophe. U-R-B-E-R-V-I-L-L-E-S, where tests buries her unbaptized baby in a forgotten corner of the cemetery. As near to the church as she dares. This wasn't just Victorian fiction for this time. That was based on real practice, real grief, real desperation. But now, getting back to our, back to the future day, with the excommunicated monk theory, this is the one that actually sticks. And maybe because Eddington Priory has like a really, really rich, like monastic history. And maybe because the idea of spiritual exile is more dramatically satisfying than any other explanations. And maybe because it just feels true, okay? So here's the thing that drives me crazy because we don't know there is no documentation or church records and no historical account that says and brothers so and so was excommunicated for Satsun Saj and his body was placed on the wall in accordance with Medieval Costum. So there's nothing. There's nothing saying that. And the mystery itself is actually what has become the story. Now, to understand why this coffin is so morally muffed up, you need to understand what burial meant in medieval England. And I mean, really understand it. Not just in some abstract, or religion was important way. No, like in medieval Catholic worldview, your soul's journey after death depended heavily on what happened to your body. You needed last rights, the final confession, the anointing, the Vatican. You needed a funeral mass with specific prayers and rituals and you absolutely, absolutely needed to be buried in consecrated ground. Now, consecrated ground wasn't just symbolically holy. It was spiritually transformed when a bishop consecrated, I can talk really, a cemetery. He walked in solemn procession around its boundaries, saying prayers to expel evil influences. The ground itself became sacred. Being buried there meant you were part of the communion of saints that living parishioners would pray for your soul, that you had a shot at purgatory and eventually heaven. Being denied that, that was eternal damnation. Or at least, that's what they taught you from the cradle at that time. The fear of dying outside of the church's grace was visceral, like Nackuil. So who got denied Christian burial? The list is longer and more specific than you might actually think because obviously we've got pagans, junes, heretics, schismatics. Anyone who wasn't in communion with the church. But also, you have excommunicated, excommunicates, excuse me. If you were excommunicated by name and died without absolution, no burial in holy ground, your body desecrated the space. If someone secretly buried you in the churchyard anyway, oh and this is so crazy, if they buried you in the churchyard anyway, the whole place had to be re-consecrated. Think about that. Like damn, So your body would then be dug up and moved. Oh, I don't like that. You know that's how shit gets haunted, spirits don't like being disturbed. I'm just saying, I'm just saying. Now the other part of this, the other who don't get like their rights and all that kind of stuff, right? Suicides, trigger alert. The logic was that suicide was self murder, a mortal sin, and you couldn't repent because you were dead. So suicides were often buried at crossroads or just outside the churchyard walls. And then of course, and it just makes me so sad 'cause such innocent life and it's so weird to even think that this was such a belief back then, it just, it baffles me at the unbaptized infants. This is, it's just to me, it's just so incredibly cruel like and trigger alert on this, babies who died before baptism were considered tainted by original sin. No, they weren't. Like seriously, oh, thank God we evolved from that because I just, I can't believe that that would even be a thought. I just, that blows my mind. And I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, but I just, babies are such innocent life. Like how could you think that there was anything different? Like I just, but you know those were the times, those were the times and it just, it is what it was. And you know, and I almost, I don't know for sure, but I'm pretty sure that there are some, I don't know if that still exists in Catholicism or not. If anyone is Catholic, I am a recovering Catholic. I don't remember where if that was any more a thing or not, but anyway, unfortunately those unbaptized babies would not be able to make it to heaven, but they weren't exactly damned either. They were, they went into a limbo according to some of the theology. Either way, there was no consecrated ground for them. Now, also certain criminals, depending on the crime and the time period, you could be denied burial rights. And then lastly, people who violated their religious vows. So if priests decided to get married, if nuns would run away, if monks abandoned their monasteries, excommunication often followed that with it, but if it didn't get to that point yet, the loss of the burial rights would still exist. Does that make sense? Now, here's where it really gets under my skin about this system. It wasn't just about the afterlife. It was about this life too. So if you were excommunicated, you couldn't receive the sacraments. You couldn't attend Mass. Other Christians weren't supposed to talk to you, do business with you, eat with you. You became socially dead before you were even physically dead. And the threat of dying excommunicated, that was a form of social control that doesn't really have a modern equivalent at this juncture. The closest I can think of is maybe being declared an enemy of the state in a totalitarian regime. Your cut off, your othered, maybe into like a nonperson. And the church knew this, and the sick thing is they used it. If a nobleman refused to pay taxes to the local priory, boom, excommunication. If a town rebelled against monastic authority, boom, the whole town gets excommunicated. It was spiritual like terrorism, basically. Now, in the visual reminder of that power, bodies buried outside the walls, bodies placed in liminal spaces, bodies that were denied rest. So there's this phrase that appears in medieval texts. And I am not kidding, this is not a joke. It's called Asses Barrel. It comes from the book of Jeremiah, where the prophet says, quote, "He shall be buried with the burial of an ass." Wow, drawn and cast forth beyond the gates of Jerusalem, basically thrown out like garbage, left for animals in the elements. No ceremony, no dignity, no prayers. Now, some medieval texts explicitly prescribe this for the worst offenders. One 10th century text says that those who violate church property or commit murder shall be cursed. Anthemonized, if I'm saying that right, and buried in the manner of asses, in manure to the ground. In manure to the ground. Now granted, if you are a criminal or someone bad, all right, I'm not against it. I'm, you know, like, yeah, if you are in fact an ass, then yeah, you should be buried an ass. That's fine. Now, that's not just denial of burial. This is, that's active like, desecration of a corpse, like in my opinion. Now, I'm not saying that what, that's what happened in Eddington, okay? So stay with me on that. That's not what I'm saying. The coffin on the wall is clearly not an asses burial, but it exists on that same spectrum of punishment and exclusion. Someone cared enough to put the body in a coffin, but not enough to give it rest in holy ground. So the story is just, I feel like you could write a fiction book on this, you know what I mean? Like maybe this is like newfound inspiration. Now, here's where it gets philosophically interesting at least to me. The church taught that God was merciful, that repentance was always possible, that even the worst sinner could be saved if they turned back to God before death. But if you died, excommunicated, even if you repented on your deathbed, if there was no priest there to absolve you, boo, you were fucked. Your eternal fate depended not just on the state of your soul, but on the logistics of absolution. And burial practices reflected that harsh theology. Your body became a teaching tool, a warning, a visible sign of what happens when you defy the church. That coffin on the wall, that's not just a burial site. It's actually a very powerful statement. Now, we'll get back to Eddington in a second, but first, we need to talk about the priory itself because the church has definitely seen some shit. Let me tell you. Now, Eddington priory, like I said, was founded in 1351. Damn, I just, that year, just, it's still like, saying it out loud each time. It's just like holy shit. No pun intended. And it was founded by William Eddington, Bishop of Winchester. This guy was a big deal. He was a treasurer of England, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom. And he decided to establish a religious house in his home village. Now, originally, it was supposed to be like a college of chantry priests. Basically, guys whose job was to say masses for William's soul after he died. Medieval people were obsessed with getting prayer said for their souls in purgatory. The more prayers, the faster you got out. So rich people would endow chantries to guarantee they'd have prayers going up for them for years or for centuries. Now, that's wild. That's wild. But in 1358, about seven years later, the chantry became a house of the, and I think I'm gonna say it right, the Bon Homes, which also translates. translates to the Good Men. This was in Augustinian order, and Eddington was only the second house of this order in England. The first was Ash Ridge. After Eddington, there were no more. So it's just two houses. That's it. And the Bon Homes followed the rule of Saint Augustine, they wore gray robes. This detail is going to matter in just a little bit. So remember that. By all accounts, it was a very successful priory. At one point, there were like 18 brothers that lived there. They had money, they had land, and above all, they had influence. They maintained the monks conduit and a spring, like a water system. All of that actually still exists today, which is impressive. And they were integrated into the life of the village. And then, okay, we're going to fast forward here pretty quick. 1450 happened. And something really terrible happened. Okay. So June 29th, 1450. England is in serious chaos. Jack Cade's rebellion is tearing through the cell. This was a popular uprising against King Henry VII, or I'm sorry, sixth week government, military failures and corrupt advisors. Huh. Interesting. Mobs were roaming the countryside, looking for representatives of the regime to punish. Huh. Interesting. Ironic. Okay. William, who was, and I think you say it as cough, icecoff, ascoff, ascoff. Okay. Bishop of Salisbury was one of those targets. He was King Henry's personal confessor, which made him a symbol of everything people hated about the government. I'm sorry to laugh. Sorry to laugh. I just, I'm, yep. Okay. So he was also, apparently, not well liked in his own diocese. He'd been restricting trading rights in Salisbury, extracting money and throwing his weight around. When the rebellion broke out, William ran. He fled Salisbury and sought sanctuary at Eddington Pryority Church. Now, sanctuary was supposed to be invaluable, right? If you made it inside the church, you were under God's protection. Nobody could touch you. But on June 29th, an angry mob, including a lot of the men from Salisbury reportedly led by a beer brewer attacked him down. They found him during mass. Now, let that sink in. He was celebrating mass at the high altar, performing the holiest sacrament of the church. The reenactment of Christ's sacrifice surrounded by prayers and incense and the supposed protection of sacred space. They dragged his ass out of there. They took him to the top of Eddington Hill, just outside the village. Now, remember, this is 1450. So you can imagine what the punishment was. And they stoned him to death. Yeah. I don't care. Like, the man, it's just crazy. Like the punishments and the things that happened back in those days, it's just wild to me. And so creepy. Like, that's just creepy. I don't like it. Now, think about the symbolism here. You have a bishop, a representative of God's authority on earth, dragged from the altar during the most sacred moment and was murdered by a mob. In the medieval worldview, this was almost unthinkable. It was sacrilege on a cosmic scale. But it happened. And you know what? The perpetrators weren't immediately struck down by divine wrath. The rebellion continued. People got on with their lives. Later, there was supposedly a chapel built at the site of the murder. Like hermitage, if I'm airmitage, I'm not sure if I'm saying that right, where people could pray for Ascoff's soul. But that's now gone. There is no trace of it. Like, nothing remains. It's just land now. Like in today's, um, I don't know what the word is that I'm looking for, but you get my point. So what does remain is the memory of violence at this supposedly peaceful priori church. And the memory that sanctuary wasn't always protection. The mobs don't respect consecrated ground when they're angry enough. And I can't help but wonder, does that murder have anything to do with the coffin on the wall? That's my thought. Now, fast forward about, hmm, okay, 90 years. We'll say 1539 Henry VIII is systematically destroying the monasteries, confiscating their wealth, kicking out monks and nuns redistributing property to his supporters. Eddinton priori was peacefully dissolved. The last provost was Paul Bush and he got a pension. He went on to become Bishop of Bristol. The brothers were given pensions too. It was all very civilized, relatively speaking, okay. Now the priori buildings were demolished or they were repurposed. Fish ponds that had belonged to the monastery were filled in. Oh, that's kind of a bummer. The land was parceled out. The church survived, but it was also the parish church. So it served the villagers and not just the monks. So it was allowed to continue. But the monesthetic community was totally gone. Now the Bon Homes are rare that rare and specific order. They vanished, like Puth just gone from England. And remember, there were only two houses and now there were none. So what happened to the bodies of the brothers who died over those 180 some years, right? Most are probably buried in and around the church, but what about the brother who was excommunicated? What about the one who violated his vows and committed an unforgivable sin? Did they stick his coffin on the wall as a warning? A reminder that even in a holy community spiritual exile was possible or is the coffin older than the priori itself? Could it date back to the earlier church? The one the nuns of Ramsey Abbey built before William Eddington ever showed up. Again, we don't know. Isn't that just so fucking maddening? I'm sorry you guys. I don't mean I'd like seriously if you're throwing your headphones right now. I'm sorry. So let's talk about why lack of documentation bothers me so much on this one. Like there is some which helps me to understand like the building of the church, how things happened, like all of that documentation was very valuable to this story, but there's a lot of it that is still missing too. And adding to priori church is well maintained, well documented. Like I said, it's historically significant. There are books about it, there's been academic papers, tourism websites, the church has its own website as well with detailed history and that helps me a a lot in this, um, and digging into this. And there's a musical festival there every year that attracts people from all over the world. And yet when it comes to the coffin on the wall, there's nothing. In my opinion, I think they know but they don't share it for whatever reason. Like, and maybe it's just to build up the hype on it. And like, well, now this is kind of fun. And, you know, people make draw their own conclusions. And maybe it was something that was even requested. I don't know. Like, there's so many possibilities on this coffin. And I just, like, I swirl on this seriously. Like my hands are placed on top of my head because I'm literally thinking right now about all the different things. Now one photographer who documented it in 2008 wrote, "Someone told me it was the last resting place of a monk who had been excommunicated and therefore not allowed to be buried within the church. I would love to find out more about it but cannot find any reference to it on any website." Spoke to a few locals who did not even know it existed so they weren't much help either. That was almost 20 years ago, you guys, in an age of the internet and still nothing. Why? Why, I ask you why? So here are my theories. And I'm just spitballing here. And I would love to hear from you on what you guys think because I love having these discussions with you. Seriously, creepy, creepy community. You guys are so much fun to go down the rabbit hole with when we start thinking about theories. So theory one, it's embarrassing. Maybe the church doesn't want to draw attention to burial practices that seem cruel by modern standards, putting somebody's body on a wall because they died outside of the church's grace. That's not exactly a feel good story. Like tourism boards don't want to lead with, "Come see where we punish the dead." Right? That's not really going to sell. So theory two, the records were lost. Now this is actually pretty plausible. The dissolution of the monasteries involved the destruction or scattering of the monastic archives. A lot of medieval documents just didn't survive. And maybe the explanation for the coffin was in a ledger or chronicle that got burned or stolen or repurposed for unfortunately probably scrap paper. Now theory three, it was always meant to be anonymous. Maybe the point was that we wouldn't know who it was. The identity doesn't matter. What matters is the symbol. Like here lies someone who died outside God's grace. Let that be a warning to you. Damn, that's harsh. Then you've got theory four. It's not actually that old. Maybe, maybe the coffin was placed there later, 19th century maybe. And there was a romantic fascination with medieval things. Maybe it's literally just a piece of architectural salvage that someone thought would look dramatic on the wall. I don't really buy that theory for the record. I'm just saying the stone looks genuinely old and the oral tradition about it seems to go back further than the Victorian era. But I'm not totally going to rule that out entirely. Okay. And then theory five. Like I was saying, someone knows and they ain't talking. This is my paranoid theory. Maybe there are church records. Maybe the local historical society knows. Maybe the Illuminati knows. I don't know. But maybe family who owns the property next to the church wall knows. But for whatever reason, whether that be like privacy, respect, perhaps maybe even superstition, they're keeping quiet. Here's the thing though. The mystery itself has so much power because like I said, like my head has spun on this. If you knew for sure that it was brother Thomas who was excommunicated in 1423 for stealing from the poor box or sister Marjorie who broke her vows of chastity or some random guy named John who happened to die in the wrong place at the wrong time. If we knew that, if we knew that for sure, that would probably make the story smaller and contained and explainable and also kind of boring. But because we don't know, the coffin becomes a repository of all our anxieties about death and judgment and spiritual exile. Doesn't it? It becomes a blank slate onto which we can project our fears. So who's in there? Could it be me if I lived in those times? Could it be someone I love, someone who made one mistake and paid for it eternally? The coffin asks the question, what does it mean to be unforgivable? I don't like that. Okay. Now, we don't have excommunication in quite the same way anymore and honestly thank goodness for that. At least not in most denomination. The Catholic Church still technically excommunicates people, but it's really rare and it doesn't come with the same social death sentence. But we do have other forms of exile, don't we? Cancer culture is the obvious parallel. Someone does or says something wrong and they're cast out of their community. They become untouchable. Their name becomes a warning. And I think of like, and this is very modern day exile, but the first person I thought of when I said that was the Philly's Karen story. That woman got completely exiled. Did she not? Like socially she lost her job, all of those things. Or, okay, think about criminal records. Who served their time but can never truly re-enter society because their past follows them everywhere. They're not in prison anymore, but they're not exactly free either. They exist in a liminal space like a coffin on a wall, right? Or think about like refugees and stateless people literally denied burial rights in their home countries, literally existing between borders, neither here nor there. The coffin on the wall is medieval, but the concept of spiritual and social exile, that's actually really timeless. Now, I'm not going to pretend to be neutral here on this because I do think there are things, you know, as always, that we can never fully explain and things that defy rationalist explanations. But I believe that something about that coffin is definitely just wrong. And not because I believe in ghosts or going into all of that, but because symbols definitely have power. Liminal spaces have power. Exile and punishment and collective forgetting. And oh, excuse me, these things leave marks on the world and that coffin has been there for centuries, balanced on the edge between holy and profane, slowly being overtaken by ivy, slowly fading from memory and the fact that we don't know the whole story. That makes it worse, not better. Because who's ever in there like if it's a criminal, a witch, a monk, they've been forgotten twice once when they were denied proper burial and again when their story was lost to time. It's haunting in a way that ghost stories aren't. That's the kind of creepy shit that is going to stay with you. And I believe in this because I've studied enough reincarnation cases. I've been through enough documented, like paranormal, like extravagance, those if you will, to know that consciousness does not just disappear, right? Like we're all energy. that trauma is going to leave an imprint. And injustice will do its best to echo. And if there's anywhere those echoes with linger, it's in a place like this. A coffin that's neither buried nor exposed, a body that's neither blessed nor cursed, a person who's neither remembered nor forgotten, that's liminal space at its most literal. So, and liminal spaces? Dude, that's where weird shit happens, does it not? So, we know there's a stone coffin. And we know the church itself has a violent, complicated history from its foundation. And we know that the medieval burial practices were harsh and unforgiving, and that the church wielded immense power over not just people's lives, but their after lives as well. So, this mystery makes me think about all other, like, forgotten, passed away souls. The ones who didn't get proper burials, who were cast out or abandoned or erased, the unmarked graves, the mass graves. Like, the body is buried at sea or burned or left in the wilderness. History likes to remember the great and powerful, the kings and bishops and warriors, but what about everyone else? What about the, what about all the others that are out there? What about the people who died on the wrong side of the wall? The coffin at Ennington is, in some ways, almost like a memorial of all of them, a reminder that not everyone gets to rest in peace. So, if you ever are in Wiltshire, please go see it. Like, really, go to Ennington, walk the path around the primary church, look up at that wall. And when you see it, if you see it, because apparently a lot of people tend to walk right past it without noticing, just take a moment. Think about whoever could possibly be in there. Think about the choices they made or the circumstances they face that led that final resting place. And you know, if you are of a religious heart, maybe say a prayer for them or say a kind word or just acknowledge them because whoever they were, they're still there, they're still suspended between earth and heaven and still waiting for someone to remember their name. Now, here's my final thoughts. Okay, the coffin that cannot touch Holy Ground, it's definitely one crazy heck of a story. And the fact that we can't fully explain it, that we can't tie it up neatly and with documentation and dates and names, that doesn't make it any less real. If anything, it makes it a whole lot more haunting in my opinion, because sometimes the scariest stories are the ones that end with and nobody knows what happened next. Yeah, so seriously, I, that's all I've got on this. So I would love, love, love to hear your thoughts on this episode. You can definitely DM me over on Instagram at Creepy_Shit_Potcast. You could also send me an email if you would like to. And if you have any episodes that you want a request or if there's a fun fact that I missed about this, please send it over to me. I always love finding out more. And you can send that to CreepyShit_Potcast official at gmail.com. And if you do have just an extra little moment, I would so love and appreciate a five star review. And if you got 120 seconds, please make a note of why you love the podcast so much. And I appreciate you being here. So until next time, remember, sometimes the Creepy is shit is also the truest. OK, bye. [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING]