Haunted Mansion Stories- Uncle Myall

RIP IN MEMORIUM UNCLE MYALL

HERE YOU'LL REST FOR QUITE A WHILE[1]

Name: Chuck Myall[2]

Born: 1751

Died: 1844

EDITOR’S NOTE: The tale of Uncle Myall existed in two forms. The official record of his birth, legal troubles and death is found in government and family papers. The other version is a ghost story, told on dark nights to scare little children. We have combined the two for literary effect. The bulk of the tale comes from a recorded telling by Pete Renoudet[3], made shortly before his death in 1931.

“Come children and listen to my tale of the Zombie of Gracey Manor. Years ago, when I was just a boy, the Graceys were a respected family. Not loved…but respected.

            Old Ambrose was the first in New Orleans and plied the sea like a corsair. Even the fearsome pirate Jean Leffite was afraid of him and never came near his ship. Mrs. Juliet Gracey was mysterious, beautiful and ruled society with a velvet-clad glove.

            In 1829 she used her political connections (and a fair amount of dead Ambrose’s money) to secure the release of her Uncle Charles from Moreton Bay Settlement in Australia.”

            [Audible gasps from the crowd]

            “You do well to shudder at that name my little ones. Moreton Bay was a British deportation colony. Stories of that black hole could freeze a brave man’s heart.

            [Child #1] “But why was Charles there?”

            “That is a tale all on its own. Chuck Myall had a rare disease called somnambulism. It would make him rise in the middle of the night and walk about the house. He wasn’t awake yet not really asleep. He seemed odd and incoherant, talking and drinking but then never remember the events. Once he even danced a waltz while under the spell despite his chronic lack of rhythm.

            One night in 1823, the servants found him deep in conversation with the portrait of his sister-in-law Rose who had died 20 years previous. They began to argue about whether he should go visit his niece Juliet in America. This type of thing happened all the time with Charlie and no one paid any attention. However they took notice when he suddenly yelled, ‘Hallucinations have I!? You ungrateful little poppet. If you weren’t dead your father would have words for you!’ and splashed his glass of burgundy wine into her painted face.

            For the first time Charles got violent. All the family and staff could not control him and he escaped, running down the street screaming, ‘The Plura will have us all!!!’ Soon after a spectacular fight, in which the 72 year-old sent a few strapping coppers to the hospital, the police took him to prison.

            After a long and embarrassing trial (some say the family made a show of it and then abandoned the case to be rid of him) he was declared a menace to society and deported to that haven of lost souls, Moreton Bay.

             Five long years Charles worked for the colony’s Governor-General Donald Kahn[4]; painting walls and building scaffolds. Eventually they moved him into the mental ward. He had developed narcolepsy as a consequence of not getting enough rest in the night and so one could never be sure if Myall were awake or asleep. He was in a continual state of dazed consciousness which prevented any meaningful interaction. Charles was relieved of his work duties after two unfortunate mistakes: painting Kahn’s office a brilliant shade of pink and erecting a scaffold 27 feet tall.

            By 1829 Kahn was ready to be rid of him too and readily accepted the Widow Gracey's offer.

            Chuck’s oddities continued at his new home. He ordered the staff to serve him 12 raw eggs for breakfast and then poured them on the butler’s head. He would swim in the mud flats at the bayou’s edge and even rode through town naked insisting that he was Lady Godiva!

            The family slowly grew accustomed to Charlie’s antics and was greatly relieved when Elma’s new husband Richard Bell took a liking to the “crazy old man”. Those two became fast friends and would have a rollicking time at home or abroad. Charles doing the most amazingly unexpected things and Richard pretending it was all perfectly normal. More than one offended visitor commented on their way out the door that, ‘This entire house must be an insane asylum’.

            One favorite pastime was grouse hunting. More often than not Richard would turn to find his companion a hundred paces behind, fast asleep on his feet, covered in birds.

            Charles was a spry 79 years old when Master George Gracey Sr. and Mary began having children. Despite the obvious misgivings he never caused any harm to the babies and was as gentle with them as a new born lamb.

            Around this time was manifest perhaps the strangest of Charlie’s bizarre attributes: he could sense the ‘other side’.”

            [Child #2] “You mean ghosts ‘n stuff?”

            “That’s exactly what I mean. Just before young George jr. was born, Charles walked-up to Mary and, in a voice which the staff swore was old Devil Ambrose himself, said, ‘My grandson will be here soon. He has a touch of destiny about him and will end the curse we are under, if you protect him and keep him away from New Orleans.’

            From that moment, not a day passed that Charles didn’t have something spiritual happen. He saw ghosts, talked to the dead and knew things which no one else could possibly know. These ‘contacts’ happened so often that the Graceys learned to ignore him.

            When the younger children, Gladys and James, died in 1836 their mother began to frequent a local witch named D’Thave. She was always trying to contact the babes and apologize for letting them die. On the few occasions Madam Victoria came to the Mansion she was met by howls of anger from Charles and dire orations about plots, curses and tragic murders. By 1842 the friction between the young sorceress and the old crackpot had turned to open warfare. Charles would hurl things at the Medium and attempt to dissuade Mary at every turn. Richard did his part by making a game of the whole ruckus (he didn’t believe in any of this clap-trap).

Finally, in a pique of anger, Victoria stormed out of Le Bat en Rouge intent on finishing the old man. Much to her shock the objects of her loathing were busy hanging garlic, crosses and candles around the front of the shop and spraying the whole façade with Holy Water!

She fairly spat out the curse, “Cleave from bone, the spirit pure / Leave the flesh which n’er endures / No peace nor rest shall you find / For your essence now is mine!”

A thunderclap roared overhead and Richard Bell dropped like a stone. He had moved forward to confront the witch and stood between her and Charles at the moment of her spell. A crowd gathered quickly which saved Charlie from a similar fate.

No matter how often he told the story it was never believed and Chuck’s own mental condition was widely known. The police decided Richard died from dropsy (though only 42) and pursued no charges.

Within weeks a mysterious raven began to frequent the Mansion. Only Uncle Myall paid it any attention and he was often found talking to and stroking the bird lovingly. It was a sad day in 1844 when Charles Myall walked off the roof of the highest steeple while trying to catch his new pet. Uncle Charlie’s last words were, “Richard my friend…”

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