My Accidental Playground Cult
When I was a child in the early 1990’s, my brother and I had a babysitter; Her name was Claire..
Claire would pass the time when looking after us by telling us Ghost Stories at the bottom of our garden, sitting under a very creepy Tim Burton-esque Apple Tree that used to hang over the fence from our neighbour’s garden.
These Stories were fairly common tales to most 90’s teenagers like Claire, and her favourites were “Annie”, which was Claire’s version of the popular story “I’m coming up the stairs” by Maria Leach, the equally famous Urban Legend “The Licked Hand”, and occasionally she would tell us about all the alleged paranormal goings in her home. Claire lived just up the road from us at Number 42, and so these alleged haunting stories were the most enjoyable and fascinating to me, as my brother and I would often visit Claire at her home or walk past the house on the way to school, hoping that one day we might see the Ghost that allegedly lived in her attic.
Claire was a natural born Storyteller, and I wanted to be just like her when I grew. I imagined myself telling Ghost stories to other eager listeners, and naturally fantasised about having paranormal adventures of my own.
So why wait? I had memorised all her stories, and surely my friends would enjoy them too?
It was decided. I would become a storyteller that day! And the next school day, I decided to tell one of my friends, who we’ll call Chrissy, the story “Annie”.
Chrissy both loved, and was suitably terrified by the story, and as a result it was an instant hit with others, and before I knew it, I was telling “Annie” and other Ghost stories in a dark and quiet corner of the playground every day to a regular group of around 5 children from my class. And eventually we referred to ourselves as The Ghost Club (no relation of course to the actual Ghost Club), and other members would also share stories with the group.
Toward the Summer I’d managed to obtain some Paranormal books for kids from the Local Library, and I began learning about all kinds of Legends and Paranormal subjects. Haunted Houses, Poltergeists, Demons, Cryptids, Aliens, I soon became an oracle of knowledge, and in no time I’d gone from re-telling my baby-sitters ghost stories in the playground, to being revered as the leader of The Ghost Club. I had followers who hung on my every word, and I even had Deputies! It was everything I had dreamed of.
As days went on, we became the leading paranormal authority in the school, as far as we were concerned, and I had decided to give members of the Club each a temporary rub-on tattoo that you would get free with bubble-gum in the 90’s. They would become a form of uniform, and would ultimately serve as a way for us to recognise other genuine club members, which of course wasn’t particularly difficult considering there was only about 6 of us, but we were 7 years old, and it made perfect sense at the time.
The 90’s was rife with Urban Legends, and The Blue Star Tattoo Legend was just one of the many our parents warned us about. The legend originated in the LSD panic of the 1970’s, and stated that nefarious Drug Dealers were producing temporary rub-on tattoos for kids. These tattoos were allegedly in the shape of a blue star and were laced with LSD, or in some cases Strychnine (Rat Poison). The idea being that the child would lick, or apply water to the rub-on tattoo, and in the process would either ingest the chemical, or it would soak in to their skin, and the intended affect would commence. The story was of course a hoax with no proven cases ever existing, but that didn’t stop millions of parents and national News from believing the story, and this included the parents of one of the members of our Ghost Club.
The particular member, who we’ll call Lou, came to school one day complaining of horrific nightmares. The tattoo she had been given was a Rockabilly style picture of a devil, and she claimed that since applying the tattoo, the Devil was visiting her in her dreams, and now the Devil was in the school! Somewhat traumatised, Lou left the club and removed her tattoo the same day.
The members of The Ghost Club and I of course decided we needed to act! We were after all the self-appointed leading authority on the paranormal in the School, and as a result, we were clearly the only 7-year olds that were best equipped to investigate this rather serious situation.
One of my Deputy’s, who we’ll call Tom, had learned of a technique he called a “Mind Journey” where you could go into your head and potentially see the Devil. Immediately I demanded he guide me on a Mind Journey, because, as leader of The Ghost Club, I decided if anyone was going to tackle the Devil head on it would surely need to be me.
The “Mind Journey” was equally another 90’s playground game that kids would play to Spook each other. The game consisted of sitting in front of another person who would be your guide. You then would close your eyes and your guide would rub your temples in a circular motion with two fingers whilst talking you through a story that you would picture in your head. You began at the top of some stairs and would descend counting from 13 to 1. At the bottom you would open the door to reveal a car accident, which was the scene of your death. The guide would ask questions throughout such as “You look at your leg, what do you see?”, “You look at the sky, what colour is it?” and so on. And eventually you would be guided in to hell to meet the Devil himself.
During every break time for the next few days, having established a meeting base, which was essentially the darkest, quietest corner on the school playing field, Tom would take me on multiple Mind Journeys, each time gathering more information on the Devil; and eventually other members of the club would do the same, until one day, Chrissy, who had been appointed my second Deputy, came running to me with several other of the female members in tow, all in a panic.
They’d seem him, the Devil himself! And they had proof, a piece of his tail.
I demanded the piece of the tail, thinking it was nonsense, and Chrissy handed me the evidence and there in my hand sat a ball of red fluff. Being a fully-fledged “expert” in the paranormal, I confirmed the authenticity of the evidence. It was undeniably a piece of the Devils tail, and I demanded Chrissy take me to the place she found it, and shortly after arriving, while we hunted for more evidence, one of the girls let out an ear-piercing scream!
“There he is!”
The Devil was around 8 feet tall, and red all over. He carried what appeared to be a long spear, and he simply stood there inside one of the rooms of an old unused classroom block, whose windows backed onto the school field. These windows had a frosted coating and as a result were slightly obscured, but the shape of the Devil was undeniable, and he was watching us.
We left the area and re-grouped across the field in our base and decided that we would need to make a move. We would need to face him. But we would have to wait until the next day, break time was over and we had to go back inside for the last classes of the day, which would give us the perfect opportunity to make our plans.
The next day began like any other, and we were ready to face the Devil, but before morning break, I was being summoned, and soon found myself standing in front of the School Headmaster with Chrissy, Tom, and my slightly confused older brother.
My school wasn’t an ordinary school. In the UK we have both state funded schools, who’s funding primarily comes from the government and local councils, and then we have Church of England schools, or “C of E” Schools, who’s funding primarily comes from local Church of England foundations. You do not need to necessarily be from a religious background to attend a C of E school, but the schools will often hold religious assemblies every morning, and would generally involve a more religious based focus, including faculty who were often members of the local church. And as it happened, I attended a C of E school. It was the best school in the area at the time, and despite not being a particularly religious family, my parents ensured our place as soon as we were of school age to guarantee the best education and start in life for my brother and I. As for the Headmaster? He was a strict follower of the Christian faith and was heavily involved with the local church.
He was not impressed.
It turns out Lou had told her parents about her nightmares, the tattoo’s, the Ghost Club, and the fact that the Devil was in our school, and as the leader and Deputies of the Ghost Club, we were held responsible for the mass hysteria we were causing, and my brother was called in as they weren’t sure whether my brother or I was the ring leader. My brother was dismissed as he wasn’t involved in the club, and Tom, Chrissy, and I all narrowly avoided detentions. Our mothers however did receive letters, we were informed the Devil did not reside in our school, we were to cease telling Ghost Stories, and that our little club was not to continue.
And just like that it was over. The stories stopped, the club disbanded, the adventure ended, and life in the playground carried on as normal. I was no longer a storyteller or a leader, but I still maintained my love of the paranormal, as did Chrissy, but this time, we chose not to involve anyone else in our paranormal interests.
And as for the Devil, did we vanquish him from the school?
The answer is, Yes and No, with most of the emphasis on No. To vanquish the Devil, you kind of need the Devil to be present to vanquish, and as it turns out, that piece of the Devil’s tail was nothing more than the inside of a red felt-tipped pen; and as for that figure we’d seen in the classroom? Well those unused classrooms had been re-purposed as storage rooms at the time, and the figure was nothing more than a flagpole, with a red flag draped over it.
It turns out the Devil was nothing more than the overactive imaginations of a group of seemingly very gullible Children who had taken an early interest in the dark world of the paranormal.
At least, that’s what our Headmaster wanted us to think…