Congregants allegedly pressured to to sell their own blood and donate the funds to their church

As an altar boy, I and my impious altar boy cohorts would occasionally snag some unblessed hosts to ‘study’ and snack on. (They were stored in an ornate jar in the church sacristy, aka, the mass staging room.) The advantage of being part of the system… back then, anyway.


That is one creepy Horror Movie phrase, isn’t it?


It sort of is! But what was really creepy was the priests’ rectory attached to the sacristy. There were stories passed around about ghostly goings on in the then 110 year old rectory (of course), and about the night of the 1965 “Great Blackout” of the US north-east and parts of Canada. Some joker in the neighborhood jump-started a story about the sacristy’s 6’ tall angel statue that was set near one of the large windows and therefore always visible to anyone just outside; the story: On the night of the blackout, the wings of the statue could be seen slowly flapping. Years passed, the stories lingered and got passed down, I become an altar boy, then – boom – my father (buddy-buddy with the clergy, and bowled weekly with one of the priests) volunteers me (shit!) to man the rectory on a night when all the priests and the sexton are out. Even as an altar boy, I didn’t believe in ghosts and such… but I still did have an imagination. Lots of creaks and moans (understandable) from that old rectory, and all magnified in my mind by the stories. I was definitely creeped out and never moved from the sofa I sat on that night.

Oh, The Window. It’s the one just to the left of the tastefully elaborate entrance at the top of the stairs. The rectory is now an apartment building as is the church it was once attached to. (I wonder if the rather tunnel-like granite-walled way that connected the two is still there. Fuel for future ghost stories!)

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