A man's wife became deathly ill the night before Christmas in 1798, he called for the doctor but by the time the doctor had arrived his wife had died, or so it seemed.
Her husband was so grief stricken that he shut himself up on his own and didn't attend the funeral the following day.
The servants of the house carried the rich woman's body to the Vicar who in a drunken stupor held the ceremony quickly. The veil was drawn across her face, the stone lid lowered and the iron grille locked.
Where is he?
When later that night the Clergy man fell to sleep he remembered the beautiful emerald ring the woman had been laid with on her finger. Wanting riches for himself and fiquring no one would find out
he went downstairs unlocked the lid open it and tried to pry off the ring, it wouldn't budge. He ran to his lab and brought back a file to cut off her finger with. He severed her finger and pulled the ring off, as he left he turned arond to pick up the iron lid,
and screamed at the top of his lungs, dropped the ring and ran, the woman had awakened and was moaning and holding her severed finger towards him with a smile displayed evenly across her face.