Fra Celest and the Spirits in the Convent
Fra Celest would often walk down on foot from the upper part of l-Imsierah — a time when village borders were not yet defined. Although everyone loved Fra, they would often tease him in good humor. This was because, aside from his tendency to stop people mid-work and chat with them for half an hour or more, he also had a habit of checking what he could eat — fruit, vegetables, or anything else he could be given.
The farmers of this village, especially those in Wied Għomor, were hardworking and generous. The land was fertile and produced high-quality crops. People there always welcomed Fra Celest, and no one ever sent him away empty-handed. He would always take something back with him to share with his fellow friars at the convent.
So much so that, if someone passed by with a horse and cart, they’d sometimes stop and give him a lift up the steep hill — because with his big belly and the load he carried, climbing back up was no easy task.
One day, curiosity got the better of Fra Celest. He overheard the Prior of the convent speaking privately and couldn’t resist. He pressed his ear against the cell door of the Prior and began to eavesdrop on a conversation between the Prior and Father Bert — they were discussing spirits.
What he heard chilled him to the bone…
Fra Celest and the Whispered Ghosts
(A poem for children)
Fra Celest walked down the hill,
With quiet steps and belly still.
He’d stop and chat and laugh out loud,
With farmers working, strong and proud.
He loved to munch on fruit so sweet,
And veggies fresh—a lovely treat!
The people smiled and gave him more,
As Fra Celest walked door to door.
He’d carry food in bags so wide,
With kindness glowing deep inside.
The cart would lift him up the track,
Too steep for walking with that sack!
But one strange night, he heard a sound,
A whisper soft that swirled around.
He tiptoed near the Prior’s door,
And pressed his ear against the floor.
The voices spoke of ghosts and fear,
Of floating lights and steps so near.
Poor Fra Celest began to shake—
“Oh dear,” he thought, “for Heaven’s sake!”
He ran outside with flying cloak,
As morning sun began to poke.
He never told what he had heard,
Just shook his head and said no word.
So if you see a friar today,
With food and stories on his way—
Remember ghosts may whisper too…
But Fra Celest still smiles at you!
