This ghost story, which goes by the name “Beinagrindin í Hólakirkju” or “The Skeleton in Hóla Church” was collected by famed Icelandic librarian Jón Árnason, who lived between 1819 and 1888.

A lot of old Icelandic stories told by the fire are preserved because of his efforts in traveling around and documenting the tales of locals.

Although Icelandic ghost stories have a penchant for the horrifying, sometimes—and this is probably why I love this story—they can be funny too. Horror comedy it seems, is a long-standing genre.

Jón Árnason noted in his book, Íslenzkar þjódsögur og æfintýri, that a schoolboy from north Icelandic relayed this story to him in 1845.

I warn you, though, I’m telling you the version I was told myself as a child which varies (only) a little from the original. But I still think it works and I swear it’s true to the real thing.

It so happened that one day, at a very ordinary graveyard by Hóla Church, that a skeleton surfaced on top of its grave.

This was considered a most curious event and not knowing what else to do, the gravediggers who found the skeleton put it back where it belonged.

The following morning, much to everyone’s surprise, the skeleton was back on top of its grave. Once again the gravediggers put the skeleton back into the ground; yet again and again as the skeleton resurfaced each time they laid it to rest.

Eventually, weary of the farce, Bishop Jón Arason of Hólar, who ran the church, took it upon himself to carry the skeleton to a lonely bench at the heart of the graveyard.

Deciding this was as good a place as any, he slid the skeleton underneath the bench where it stayed for many months and went unnoticed.

One night the bishop wished to visit the bathroom but much to his dismay remembered that he had left his favorite bible in the pulpit of the church.

He called upon his maid and said unto her: “tell me you are not afraid of the dark and are willing to run to the church to fetch my favorite bible?”

“No sir, I am not afraid of the dark,” the maid replied, and the bishop was impressed because Icelandic nights are black, treacherous and filled with magic.

Much to the bishop’s delight his maid returned shortly with his bible in hand. Once he had tended to his bowels’ business he found the maid again and told her how impressed he was.

Being the playful sort of bishop, he said: “If you are so unafraid of the dark, I dare you to go into the graveyard and collect the skeleton from under the bench.”

The maid was a fearless woman and ventured out into the dark, found the bench, picked up the skeleton and brought it back to the house to show the bishop.

“Well, now I know,” said the bishop, “that you are the bravest woman in these parts but that skeleton is giving me the creeping willies so you’ll have to return it immediately.”

The maid slipped the skeleton back under the bench and started to make her way back home. A voice in the night stopped the maid short.

It was the skeleton who was saying: “You must help me. Please go into the church, inside a large group of people will be gathered. Go to the front row and speak on my behalf to the hooded man in the red cape. Plead with him to leave my spirit be. In return for your help I will make you a very happy woman.”

Having nothing better to do, the brave maid decided to potter on down to the church. Even though no one should have been inside at that time the church was full of strange people.

Anyone else might have run but the maid made her way to the front. There she saw the hooded man of whom the skeleton had spoken.

“You have to leave the skeleton alone; I mean really, enough is enough.”

“No,” the hooded man said.

The maid puffed up her chest and said: “If you don’t leave the skeleton alone I will get all of the spirits in this church to hassle you for all of eternity.”

The hooded figure sighed: “Well, if you are going to be like that, then fine, I will leave the skeleton alone, but first look into my glowing red eyes.”

Knowing this was probably some kind of trick the maid averted her eyes, turned around, bent over, lifted her skirt and replied “only if you look into the black hole of my ass. See how black it is!”

Miraculously the hooded man and all the spirits in this church disappeared like steam rising to the ceiling.

Thinking it best to keep the skeleton informed the maid walked out to the bench and told the skeleton it was free.

A few weeks later a funeral was scheduled and the maid pleaded with the bishop to get the gravediggers to dig up the skeleton’s grave one last time before they went off the clock.

The bishop was reluctant and warned the maid that it might not work but gave in because the maid never asked for much and it wasn’t practical to keep the skeleton under the common graveyard bench. It was scaring the children, after all.

This time the skeleton stayed in its grave and rested in peace for as long as anyone could remember.

The maid saw better day as well, much like the skeleton had promised her she became very happy and married a very handsome and well-to-do merchant.

Nanna Árnadóttir – nannaa@hotmail.co.uk