Buried Alive!

Being buried alive is a fear which is as old as the custom of burying the dead. Writers such as Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe have written of it. Horror films starring Vincent Price and Boris Karloff have frightened viewers for years. Folklore is full of tales of narrow escapes and of exhumed coffins containing corpses with broken stubs of fingers, hair pulled out by the fistful  and faces frozen in screaming terror as some poor unfortunate soul was buried prematurely and woke up to realize the horrible fate to which they were doomed. Most of these tales are simply that, tales of imagination, tales told from people's fear. But in one case, one woman's fear of being buried alive became a horrific fact.

In the early 1700's, Edinburgh had become known around the world for the advanced medical studies of the human anatomy being conducted there. Doctoral students were assigned one body each to dissect and practice their studies upon. There was also a constant need for bodies to be used by teachers as visual aids. At first, the bodies were of executed criminals and there were enough to fill the demand, but as more and more students were enrolled in the physician program, the demand for bodies became more than the supply. Soon, enterprising individuals began the lucrative business of filling that need by "body snatching" - the illegal digging up and stealing of the reasonably fresh bodies of the recently dearly departed. And if the body happened to have been buried with valuables, well, the ghouls who made a career of body snatching were certainly not above adding grave robbing to their "resurrectionist" resume.

Shankill Graveyard

In 1705 a lady by the name of Margorie McCall lived in Lurgan. She was the wife of John, a successful surgeon, and lived the rather privileged life her husband's profession afforded. Then one day, Margorie contracted a fever and after several days, despite her husbands best efforts, her condition deteriorated and she died. As was common during that time in an effort to curb the spread of the fever, a wake was quickly arranged and burial arrangements were made. During the afternoon wake, a number of people commented on the very expensive ring she wore on her finger in the coffin, but her husband explained that due to her illness, her finger had swollen making it impossible to remove. She was buried in the Shankill Graveyard that evening.

After darkness fell that very same night, just several hours after internment, by the dim light of a small sliver of moon, 2 grave robbers began their grizzly task of digging up Margorie's body. The dirt was still loose so the digging proceeded quickly. Upon uncovering the coffin and prying open the lid, the robbers were happy to see the body was indeed fresh and the expensive ring was still on Margorie's finger. The thieves tried to pull the ring from her finger, but due to the swollen condition, it wouldn't budge so, figuring the dead wouldn't mind, they decided to simply severe the finger. Producing a knife from his pocket, one of the men made a deep cut into the ring finger. With that first drawing of blood, Margorie revived from her coma, sat straight up in her coffin, opened her eyes wide and while staring at the astonished would-be thieves, screamed like a hound from hell!

It was later rumored that 2 very frightened, dirty, stinking men entered a bar several miles from the graveyard. Nobody would go near them as it was obvious by sight and smell their bowels had failed them and the pants they wore were destined for the trash heap. They told their story to the barkeep and after several strong drinks which they gulped down, hastily left and were never seen in the area afterwards.

(BBC photo of Margorie's grave)

Back at the cemetery, Margorie climbed out of her grave and walked back to her home several blocks away. Her husband and children were gathered around the fireplace, together in their sorrow, when they heard a knock at the front door. John, wracked with grief, said, "If your mother were still alive, I'd swear that was her knock." Upon opening the door, he found his late wife standing there in her burial clothes, blood dripping from her cut finger, but still very much alive. Unfortunately, the shock was too much for his heart and he dropped dead on the spot. Two days later, he was buried in the grave that was originally intended to forever hold his wife.

Margorie survived her ordeal, eventually remarried and had several more children. When she finally died for good, her body was again buried in the Shankill graveyard. A tombstone reads, "Margorie McCall - Lived Once. Buried Twice"