The Will ‘O’ Wisp.

Charlotte Burne recounts that the story of the Will ‘O’ Wisp is one of the more obscure Shropshire folktales, even in her time. When I first read it, I absolutely fell In love with everything about it!  It’s an absolutely brilliant story, so I felt compelled to retell it, Which you can read below!

 

Our story begins in a small village not too far from Shrewsbury. It was a remarkably normal village, full of normal, respectable people (they prided themselves in this presentation) That is, except one fellow- Will the Blacksmith. Now where do we start with Will?

He was a gruff, unapproachable man and it was generally accepted that he was unfit for polite company. When he wasn’t beating the anvil, Will was a drunkard, gambler and even a thief! And it was common knowledge that he enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh… a bit too much. His behaviour was such a shame, as he was a bloody good blacksmith, and so, the people of the village made do. They turned a blind eye to this wicked man and his behaviour, and generally only called on him when they needed some work doing.

This suited Will just fine. Left to his own devices, he was able to live his life the way he liked.

One night, everything changed. It was very late, and Will had retired from a night’s drinking, and settled down for bed. As he lay listening to the mice scurrying around, slowly fading to sleep, He heard three load bangs coming from the smithy door.

BANG
            BANG
                         BANG

Will paused for a moment and listened. Who could be knocking him up at this hour? They came again…

                       BANG

                                   BANG

                                                  BANG

 

Will didn’t wait for a third set of knocks. He walked down the worn stairway, to the smithy and opened the front door ajar. There stood a tall man, tightly wrapped in a cloak. He wasn’t one of the men from the village. Indeed, the man stood at Will’s door was a stranger.

‘What ya want?’ Will barked at the chap. He was quite bemused at being disturbed at this hour.

The stranger explained that he was on a long journey, and his horse had cast a shoe, and he was willing to pay handsomely for a swift job, for he didn’t have the time to dawdle or chat. The stranger’s horse was quite a beast, it was bigger than any animal Will had ever seen, with a coat so white it seemed to shimmer in through the night’s darkness. He thought for a moment. Will liked the sound of this. He always hated it when customers loitered around the shop chatting inanely at him while he tried to work- and a handsome pay was always the best kind, so he sighed, and agreed.

Will worked quickly and without interruption, and in no time the horse was shod. It was at this point the stranger seemed as if to reanimate, jumping up from the spot he’d stood near the fire and approached Will, staring. Those eyes seemed to burn through him, making his pulse quicken and blood run cold. Will began to realise that this was no simple man.

Suddenly stricken with fear Will exclaimed ‘what or who are you?’

The man let out a hearty laugh. ‘If you hadn’t rejected your god so, you may be able to recognise one of his people’ his voice was deep and solemn. ‘I am St Peter Will, and I know all about you, and your wickedness. Had I not been in dire need of assistance, I would not have sought you out. Yet here we are. So, before I go Will, I will give you your payment, and hope that you will use this meeting to think about the life you lead.  Will- I will grant you one wish, as payment for your help. What may it be?

Will stood for a moment, stupefied by the events unfolding before him. One wish?

 He thought about how hard a day’s work was now, and how he ached in the places he used to play. Surely if this man was who he says he is… he could truly work a miracle!

Will’s face contorted to an image of feigned grief.  ‘Oh Saint!’ he exclaimed. ‘Dear Saint, Thank you for such a kind offer, You see there is one thing my heart desires! I have besmirched my soul with the life I’ve led, and I want to make amends, be pure in the eyes of God. (as well as being a bit naughty, he was also a proficient liar) ‘I fear that I have sinned too much in this life to make amends, so I wish, if you may, to start over- give me a new life, fresh from my mother’s womb and allow me to be good! Allow me to prove the sort of man I can be’ Will implored, face wet with crocodile tears.

Now poor St Peter was in a hurry for there was important work to be done and didn’t really have time for Will’s pleas, so this made him gullible. After all, maybe Will really had seen the error of his ways.

‘This will be done. When you wake tomorrow, it will be the first day of your life. You will get your time again Will. I hope you live true to your word’ and at that the Saint departed, on his horse.

Will smiled, feeling rather smug with himself. He looked around the smithy, realising the gravity of the previous moments. Then, he poured himself an ale- after all if he is to believe the Saint, it would be his last for a long while.

Sure enough, as the sun rose that following day, so came with it Will’s new life. He was a baby again, and in time grew and grew, until he became a young man. But how did Will use this second life- this second chance at proving himself?

Will poured all of his energy into wickedness, drinking more and gambling more and getting up to all sorts of impiety. It was as if the only lesson he’d learnt from his previous life and the Saint was how to be wicked, it came naturally to him. Indeed, his new behaviour made his previous life seem innocent. Unphased by this, Will continued, becoming crueller, and even malicious.  He drank his days away and barely worked, so the people stopped coming. The few friends he’d acquired he stole from, or hurt and as the years past, he was left alone.

So, it should come as no surprise to you that when Will’s time on earth was over, he was sent straight down to the Devil. After all, two lifetimes of unrepentant iniquity could only mean an audience with Owd Scratch.

Will’s soul journeyed to Hell, through twisting caves and dark labyrinths, thick with smoke and sulphur and finally reached its fiery gates. They were firmly shut, and Owd Scratch was already waiting. Will, trying to make the best out of a bad lot greeted him warmly.

‘You gonna let me in then?’ he asked

‘Not so fast, you’re that blacksmith- aren’t you? The one with two lives?’

‘Aye, I am’ Will nodded. ‘I’ve… been a bit silly… hence why I’ve been sent here’

The Devil let out a thunderous laugh, the red sky seemed to clatter and the ground shook.

‘A Bit… A Bit… that’s quite an understatement there! I’ve been watching you for a while actually Will. And I’m sorry, I will be having none of this. You’re not coming in. I think you’ve far too devious for Hell. I run a tight ship here… and can’t be having your tricks. Sorry. This is St Peter’s mess, so he should clear it up. You’re not coming in Will. I’m going to send you up top.’

 

And with that, Will began his journey to heaven. When he got to the gates of heaven, he saw they were wide open! And how beautiful was the sight before him! Will could have wept for knowing he was in the presence of such. Perhaps he really was destined for heaven? After all- he’d helped St Peter out…

‘What are you doing here Will?’ That familiar voice reverberated all around him.

Will explained about how he’d been sent to hell, and that the Devil wasn’t having anything to do with him and had sent him to speak to the Saint.

St Peter sighed. ‘I really had high hopes for you Will. But you chose to be nothing better than before. You thought you’d outsmarted me, didn’t you? That you could use this gift, which was meant for redemption, for malice and somehow get away with it? That I would let you walk this hallowed ground after all the wrongs you’ve committed? You’ve chalked up two lifetimes worth of sin now Will, lying and deceiving those who seek to help you. Well, I will not let you in. For your deception you will be denied salvation, and we will never see each other again’

Will erupted in anger ‘YOU CANNOT DO THIS! YOU HAVE TO LET ME IN! You have to! Where will I go if neither place will have me? LET ME IN!!’

‘No. You belong in Hell Will. Goodbye’

And at that the Saint turned his back on Will, and will fell endlessly through the air, back to the gates of Hell. He banged on them loudly shouting and calling with all of his might.

After a while, the Devil came to the gate.

‘Why are you back?’ The Devil exclaimed, clearly aggrieved by the whole situation. Will explained that St Peter has washed his hands with him, so the only option was for him to be let into Hell.

 

 

‘Never’ the Devil scoffed. ‘I can’t risk it… I cannot have the master being poorer at peddling his trade than a human! If I was to let you in, you’d be gunning for my job! No… This will not do. I’m sorry Will…its nothing personal, I just can’t risk you starting some sort of riot or something! I won’t be opening these gates!’

Will Slumped down… ‘But what will I do?’ he asked.

The devil sighed, and before disappearing for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a large, black lump of rock. ‘Here’ he said reaching out from behind the bars and handing him the coal. ‘Take this coal for warmth Will and be on your way. Its from the flames of Hell, so will never lose its heat, nor stop burning.’

So that was it. Will took the coal and took to wandering endlessly, between heaven and hell, and the earth too. As the years melted away, so did Will’s form, he grew invisible, until all you could see is the light from that little piece of Hell. Even today, the soul of the smith wanders. He has a penchant for bogs and marshes, or anywhere unforgiving, so be sure to avoid them at night, for he is known to swell up in temper still, and steal away travellers, perhaps believing he can bargain for his soul with the life of another.

And if you happen to be caught out, and see a strange, glow know that it’s the soul of the blacksmith from Shrewsbury, and do not pursue the little light.