The sun shone through the flurries and the fleecy snow-laden clouds as Tam began the farmstead chores. He sauntered around the farmstead, unhurried this unusually warm, December morning. He would make up the time lost on this lazy morning. He knew well the way to Tallow, and, due in no small part to his particularly long legs, was known as the fastest walker in the surrounding countryside. Tam was visiting his brother in Tallowtown for the Yuletide feast that evening. Tallow was a small collection of timber buildings and the nearest semblance of a village for miles. Deciding to take advantage of the unusually warm day, Tam began splitting and stacking firewood for most of the morning. Sweat dripped down his face and his shoulders began to ache and burn from swinging the ax. After an hour or so, he stood up, stretching his back and wiping wood chips from his eyes. His gaze wandered over the surrounding countryside, admiring how the harvested, golden fields formed a counterpoint to hills of red maples and dark green firs.
The snows are late this year, he mused. But I won’t complain none. Preparing for winter on one’s own grows slower each year…just like me.
Brushing his hand through his sweaty, flaxen hair, Tam bent to his task. It took the better part of the morning to finish stacking the firewood and, after feeding the chickens and mucking out the goat stall, the sun was half past noon. For lunch, Tam took a quick bite of bread and ham. Then, feeling the lateness of the hour he donned his brown leather boots, a thick, green, woolen jacket and pulled on a knitted cap. Locking the door to his cottage behind him, he paused and breathed deeply, centing crisp leaves and the impending frost on the wind. Then, he stepped off the porch, passed through the yard and out onto a track. After passing through a small wood the track met the open road. Tam turned westward along the road and settled into a steady gait. Before long he arrived at a crossroads and the Meadow’s Milk Inn. The inn was the tallest building east of the great forest; it rose to an impressive two stories. Three steep gables, thrust into the sky, the new maple shingles shimmering, golden- green with the sun’s rays. Its bright red door flung wide, beckoned a warm welcome to sore and weary travelers and, to Tam, it seemed the entire inn shone with golden light this afternoon.
Garm must have sealed the timber wi’ a new coat o’ beeswax, he mused.
Tam had stayed in many wayside inns that were dark and smoky places, old, sunken husks and rotting shadows of their former glory. Not so with the Meadow’s Milk. Old Garm fawned over the inn like a child. Once an old farmer had elbowed Tam in the ribs and japed, “Ole Garm may share a bed wi’ his wife, but it’s this inn what stole his heart!”
Fancy took Tam and he strode to the open doorway. He ducked through the red doorway and into the sitting room. Garm had spared no expense on the yuletide trimmings. Candles glowed on every table. Holly and mistletoe, with their red and white berries, hung from the pillars and ceiling beams. On the hearth was a crackling fire and in the center of the room bristled a magnificent fir tree, strung with glistening orbs of clear crystal and gold and red leaded glass. Tiny candles stood on every bow. Wood smoke co-mingled with the potent scent of mulled wine in a caldron on the fire.
“ Hoi der Tammery Larken!,” came a call from the bar. The bar appeared empty but as Tam crossed the room he saw a shiny, bald head and two sparkling blue eyes peeking above the counter.
“Hoi Garm! A warm Yule to yeh!! Tam rested his elbows on the bartop and gave the bald head a playful smack.
“Eh, none o’ that y’great long legged scarecrow! The short man swatted at Tam’s hand with a long, brass ladle and hopped up on a stool behind the bar. Garm’s round face popped above the bar, followed by a foot or so of fluffy, white beard. His round cheeks were kissed with red and beneath his formidable mustache his smile flashed.“A warm Yule t’yeh Tam. Ought can I get fer yeh? Drink, vittles? I just started a new pot o’ spiced wine on the fire? Will yeh be stayin’ here for the Yule feast t’night?
Tam shook his head.“Naw, I’ll be headin’ to Talllow. Afraid I can’t stay an’ talk over long. Just stopping in for a few bottles o’ mead.
Garm’s forehead crumpled in a scowl. “Tallow? That dingy ole place? Why’d yeh go there if you can stay in this, my golden palace, away from the cold and dark?” Garm gave the sitting room a loving look. “My hearth will have less bodies and more drinks t’be sure!” And my young daughter’s sure t’be lonely without your dancing tonight!”
Tam’s face turned red and he gave a shy smile. “Go on y’ole schemer! Let me alone for one night. My brother is expecting me on the other side o’ the wood wi’ some o’ your home brew an I haven’t the time to deal wi’ you or your daughter.”
Garm gave a low chuckle, hopped down from the stool and trundled back through the cellar door. Tam surveyed the common room. He loved Yule, a time when family and friends could set aside their work and settle into the joy of each other's company. One of these days I’m going to stay and dance with Garm’s daughter. He felt his cheeks grow hot at the thoughts that followed.
His reverie was interrupted by Garm returning to the bar, arms full of glass bottles of mead; the amber liquid glowing faintly in the firelight. Tam took three of the large bottles, tipping a gold coin onto the bar and with a wave to the innkeeper he stepped back out into the sun and turned back down the path.
Tam made good time and the eaves of the western forest grew steadily nearer. It wasn’t long before the path was lined with thickets and trees on both sides. The panoply of red and yellow leaves were beginning to thin, falling from their branches by the dozens. After an hour or so Tam grew warm from his walking and turned to sit against an ancient silvery beech. He squatted in the tree’s tangled mess of roots, pulled a bottle of mead from his sack, uncorked it and took a long swig. The sweet liquid carried heat down his chest. He took another swig and a third enjoying the hints of cinnamon and apple. Garm has outdone himself this year, he thought. With a contented yawn he rested his head back against the wizened trunk. He corked and tossed the bottle back into the sack. I should have stopped splitting firewood sooner, he reflected. I’d best close my eyes for a few minutes before I continue on. Opening one eye, he glanced at the sun. It was still early afternoon. If I hurry on then I’ll still make it to Tallow before dark. These roots are only comfortable for so long anyhow. Leaning a little farther into the tree, Tam closed his eyes. Soon his snores were carrying through the wood and scaring the birds from surrounding trees.
* * *
Tam’s eyes snapped open. Darkness….stiffness and cold. He gasped, cold air filling his nose and lungs. A chill in his chest and back. He cursed. How long have I been here? Scrambling to his feet, Tam knocked his head on a low hanging branch and swore again, the echoes bouncing off through the wood. He staggered, slipped and fell head first the ground rushing up towards him. He gritted his teeth for the impact. It was cold and…soft? Snow? A great heap of snow. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Tam looked around. The moon was behind the clouds and big, fluffy snowflakes were fluttering down through the trees.
“How long have I been sleeping? For the life o’ me, I can’t believe that I slept the sun away? Tam shivered, a prickling uneasiness festered in the back of his mind. What did Garn put in that mead?
A barren quiet settled over the wood and Tam felt a prickle run up his spine. Unbidden, childhood tales crawled from the corners of his childhood. Tales of Birchwives casting their ‘wood-sleep’ on poor unsuspecting travelers, and trapping them in enchanted dreams to wander forever while birch roots cocooned and consumed their sleeping corpses. Tam shivered.
Now Tam was as sensible as any man. He trusted in the solid path beneath his feet, cold steel to chase away the thief and fire to keep the night at bay. But steel and fire were far behind and snow blanketed the path ahead.
Tam stood, brushed himself off and squared his shoulders. “Just overslept is all”. He reassured himself. “I may be late for the feast, but the snow isn’t too deep just yet. Darkness can’t hurt a man what sticks to the path safe and solid.”
So, gathering up his travel sack, Tam hastened down the trail. The silence was deafening, the snow sucking up any echo or forest sounds. He whistled as he walked, trying to chase away his uneasiness with the noise. He knew the trail well and even in the dark he had little fear of losing his way. He plodded along for another hour before the snow subsided and the moon came out from the clouds. The moonlight lit his way and his spirit lifted.
However, after another hour passed and the forest remained, Tam’s unease returned . “ Surely I should be out of the woods by now?” He thought.
Tam stopped and peered back. That mead must have addled my wits. Surely, he must come to the forest fringe soon and then he should be able to see Tallow in the distance, the village lights guiding him to friends and a warm fire. He pressed on for another half hour to no avail. The trees persisted, their dark trunks like sentinels hindering his escape. The forest is getting thicker, he realized.
“ If memory serves me right, the trees ‘round Tallow are firs….but these are nearly all Birches? Tam’s head spun in every direction taking in the Birches with their signature papery, white bark standing stark against the moonlight. “Feels like a forest of ghost trees…”, he muttered, pushing away the thought.
Something isn’t right, he realized with a shiver. His heart quickened and the cold filled his lungs. Shaking his head, Tam took a deep breath, and began to jog through the snow. I just need to find a clearing to get my bearings, he decided. He ran on for another half hour, hoping the trees would thin. Maddeningly, trees grew thicker and the path seemed to be giving away to true forest. Fear gripped him and he settled into a flat out run. Then the snow returned and the moon was once again blanketed in clouds.
As he rounded a towering oak, his foot caught, flinging him headlong into the snow. Coughing, he sat up in a panic. With a groan he accepted the truth. I am lost…LOST. Without means to make fire and nothing save the mead in my travelsack. I must keep moving to stay warm, he reasoned. If I survive till morning, perhaps I can make sense o’ all this. Despondent, he stooped to pick up the travelsack.
Hoooooooonnnnnggggg! Tam jumped at the sound. Hoooooooonnnnnggggg! A blaring note cut through the wood, resounding off the trees and cutting through the oppressive silence. Was that a horn? A hunting horn! Praise be! Tam froze, listening and choked back a relieved sob.
There! It called again, somewhere off to his left. He leapt off through the underbrush and felt the ground began to steadily rise, climbing through the woods. He adjusted his travelsack and hastened up the hillside. Then, through a stand of firs, he spotted a bloom of light. It flickered, flashed and went out. He peered through the shadowy bows. There it was again! He pushed through the final bows to find himself in a clearing, a large fire blazing at the crest of the hill, its warmth chasing the darkness away.
“Hoi there! Here I am!” he hailed.
No welcome returned his call.
Tam called again. Scrabbling up the slick, snow crusted slope. The fire was bigger than he’d first thought, crowning the entire hilltop, the flames leaping nearly fifteen feet in the air. Shielding his eyes from the blaze, he searched for his rescuers. There was no one tending the inferno. Perhaps they were around the other side of the blaze? As his eyes adjusted to the light, he peered through the flames.
His walking slowed as he took it all in. In the middle of the fire there was a large cairn of stones. There was no wood or fuel that he could see. The chill of fear returned in a wave. Suddenly, flames flashed green at their base and there was no heat to cleanse the chill that had returned to his chest. He began to tremble. “Oh God…dear God why can’t I feel the warmth?”
A burst of rock and flame erupted from the cairn, throwing sparks into the air. A great rent opened in the pile and from it stretched a tall figure. A specter rose above the cairn, its pale and ghastly face framed against the furred robes which hung from its gaunt shoulders. From either side of its head sprang proud, ebony antlers, sweeping behind its head like a windblown crown. The pale face bore a grimace of menace and wild laughter. One of its eye sockets was dimmed and from the other glowed with pale green light. The dancing fire reflected in the solitary orb. In its left hand the figure brandished a long, dark spear. In its right hand gleamed a pale white horn, bound with red gold and Shimmering in the fire light.
The ghoul seemed to take little notice of Tam. Instead it slowly lifted the horn to its palid lips and blew a loud blast into the night air. It seemed to Tam that the very earth shook and the flames gave way before the sound, as if battered by a great gale. Then, the figure leaped down, out of the fire on the opposite side of the cairn, leaving Tam to quiver in the cold firelight.
Again his mind turned old dales told in the dark. Of things that lurked beyond the world of men, of specters and ghouls. Terror siezed him. He wanted to run and scream, to drop and bury himself in the snow and freeze to death. Anything to escape the horror….the ghoul which was waiting on the other side of this hell-fire. Behind him, the black, silent forest seemed worlds safer than this naked hilltop. At least there he could hide among the trees. He tried to turn, but his feet wouldn’t obey.
“Damn it!”, he sputtered, “Get ahold of yourself Tammary Larkin! You can’t just stand here, one step at a time does it. That’s it one step at a -
A flash and the flames dropped low - revealing the other side of the ring of fire. Tam’s gaze snapped up. On the other side of the fire shadows were moving in the night, leaping up the hillside. Drawing nearer the fire, the shadows took form, becoming the shapes of beasts. Wolves slunk into view, their eyes glinting like green glass. Up hulked bristling boars, snorting and squealing, their razor sharp tusks shining. And beyond the ring of fire the form of a single huge bear prowled back and forth. The ghoul stood beside the fire and blew another call on his horn. The beasts answered frenzied howls and roars. They began tearing through the snow, swarming about their sinister master, growling and snapping at the night air. Suddenly, they parted as a massive, horned stag pranced into the fire light, charging at the ghoul. Grasping the stag’s antlers the ghoul swung himself into the air and lighted on the beast’s back. A hush fell over the horde and a great black owl swooped out of the dark sky to settle on the ghoul’s shoulder.
Tam felt a scream begin to well deep in his mind. This cannot be real. I must be in a Birchwomen’s dream or going mad. The silence was unnerving. The fiends of the forest stood at rapt attention to their ghastly leader. Even the fire’s crackling had fallen still.
“If I can just get my legs to stop trembling. But there was no chance of that with no fire to warm them. He looked down at his quaking body. At his feet lay the travel sack. His breath caught. That could work. Stooping slowly, he reached down and pulled out a bottle. Uncorking it, he pressed the bottle to his lips and drank, gulp after shuttering gulp. Fire seemed to fill his stiff body. His legs began to relax and the chill in his chest lessened. Corking the bottle he wiped his mouth and let out a relieved sob.
The sob broke the silence like the crack of a whip. Slowly, the ghoul’s head turned and its single, green eye settled on Tam. It flashed a manic grin and thrust his spear towards Tam, a deep rattling laughter ripping from its open mouth. The beasts followed their master's gesture, their feral eyes resting on Tam. The wolves began to snarl and the boars’ frothed at the mouth. The hair on the back of Tam’s neck stood on end.
He couldn’t outrun a wild horde like this. If only that thing would stop looking at me. I can’t bear it no more. Instinctively, Tam threw sack, mead and all, hurtling towards the horned phantom. Passing over the unnatural fire the bag landed, smashing into the ghoul’s face. There was a crunch as the bottle broke, spraying meade over the ghoul and running down towards the open flames. In a bright flash, the meade caught fire. This was no cold fire, Tam could feel the heat as the mead took flame. The ghoul let out a rattling scream and the beasts shrank from its wrath.
The last bit of courage deserting him, Tam ran. Turning down the hill he sprinted, stumbled, got up and ran again. If he could just get to the forest; then he could climb a tree. He doubted that a tree would stop the ghoul but at least he wouldn't be torn apart by a flury of tusks and fangs.
Hoooooooonnnnnggggg! His heart stopped. The horn rang out from the hilltop. Hoooooooonnnnnggggg!
He turned and saw shadows leaping through the cairn-fire and tearing down the hill like in a wild hunt of hell. In the midst of the horde rode their master like some terrible forest god of old, wreathed in the flames of his burning robes. The last remaining hope left Tam with a scream. And he raced down the hill side. He thought he could hear the panting of the wolves at his heels. The low roar of the bear mingled with his screams in the night air. The forest was not twenty yards ahead. If I can just make it to the trees, he hoped against hope. He chanced a glance over his shoulder. No, the fiends were almost on top of him. Would he be torn to pieces in their seething, frothing maws or would the beasts hold him like prey until their terrible master ended his misery with a thrust of cold steel? Tam forced his legs to keep running, giving a last burst of speed as the trees drew near. The owl began beating about his head, clawing at his eyes and battering his face with strong, sinewing wings.
Suddenly light shown through a gap in the forest edge. There stood a small cabin, its door flung wide with a golden glow streaming forth. In the doorway stood a figure holding a lantern in the gloom.
“Oh, oh please help!” cried Tam as a fanged mouth snapped on his heel like a steel trap.“Have mercy, please help me.”
He turned and screamed as the beasts began to swarm around him, snarling and gnashing. “This is it, oh do let it end quickly,” he whimpered as fangs closed on his down on his arms and legs.
From behind him, voice roared with a force of a thunderous storm, “Stay creatures of the forest! Cease your wild hunt! Return to your dens and your haunts. Be free of your master and let him do his own hunting. Go and sleep for winter is upon you.” At the rebuke, it seemed to Tam, that a swift wind roared through wood, the trees bending and swaying in its wake. Through his tears, Tam watched the beasts release him and shie away, dispersing into the forest and undergrowth. The owl gave a screech sand soared up and away. But with a roar of wild hate, the ghoul urged his prancing mount towards Tam. More light tore through the darkness alighting on Tam and bathing him in splendorous warmth. The Ghoul yanked his mount back, out of the beam, venting an angry snarl, its eye spinning wildly seeking a way past a hidden barrier.
A hand took hold of Tam’s shivering arm and lifted him to his feet. Tam opened his eyes and blinked in the brightness. He was quivering and crying like an inconsolable child. Keeping his eyes on the Ghoul, he took a shuddering breath and felt blessedly warm air filling his lungs. Something smelled of cinnamon and fragrant wood smoke. He turned to see the owner of the voice. To his surprise it was a small woman in a thick, russet cloak. A long slit opened at the neck of the garment and trimmed with fur ran along its edges. Her dark hair was woven in a single thick braid that hung past her shoulder. In her hand, shown a many sided crystal lantern, bound with red gold, blazing fiercely against the dark. Her feet were bare, the snow pooling around her toes.
Carefully, Tam sought her eyes, but she was staring past him. Her neck resolute and her face brazen, her dark eyes dancing and dangerous, challenging the ghoul in some terrible unseen duel. Without turning aside she spoke to Tam.
“Turn away from the horned one child, and go in by my door. Do not look behind and do not leave my light.”
Steeling Himself, Tam turned his back on the woman and ghoul. And headed for an open doorway. His feet slipped and buckled in the snow, but he continued slowly towards the inviting cabin. The ring of light continued to move with him and he thought that woman must be following. And then he was stumbling over the threshold, out of the cold, and he heard door close behind him. Turning, he saw the woman latch the stout timber door and breathe a weary sigh, sitting the lantern on the nearby window sill.
She faced Tam, and the resolution dissolved from her face in a welcoming smile.
“Breathe small one and let the fear fall at the door, you are in my halls now and no bitter cold nor evil phantom can live in my light.” At this she took Tams hands and heat radiated through him, again the smell of spices and rich wood smoke pervaded, filling his lungs and clearing his muddled senses. Was this magic?Did I trade one creature of night for a creature of seduction and fire. He glanced furtively at the woman. Her eyes were warm and welcoming yet something deep within them unsettled him. Something untamable, a spark of wildness.
She spoke again, her voice deep and alluring, “Nay, small one, I am no creature of mould, or sorcery. Hear my voice, feel my hands, they bare no cold in them. I am no witch-wife of the woods. Breath easy and be still.”
“Then who - what are you?” stammered Tam.
Releasing his hands she walked to the center of the room where a large wood fire crackled on a raised hearth. Taking a poker she stirred the flames and added some logs. Tam took the moment to observe rest of the house. It was much more spacious than he had first thought. Indeed, it seemed more of a longhouse than a cozy cabin. The timber roof came together in a central peak far above his head and beautifully carved pillars lined the aisles of the structure, candles glowing from sconces cut into each of the wooden beams. The entire hall was bright with golden light and bedecked with all manner of bows and berries. The woman interrupted Tams observance.
She said, “The creatures of decay and death are waking. They know Yule stands as a final bastion of light and life against high-wintertide. I have only a small while left. Soon the Horned One will reign over forest and field. The harvest’s warmth is all but spent. Men will trust in their faltering strength or strong drink. It is folly, but I cannot save those who do not call on me for aide.” She seemed to grow sad at these words and the light in the hall began to dim.
Shadow seeped into the corners of the hall and and with it camp whispers of the cold wind. Tam thought he could hear deep laughter echoing across the distant barren snowy hills He shivered. He looked at the woman and felt an urge to comfort her. He simply did not understand any of this but he knew that he must make her smile again. He must bring back her light and joy and the warmth with it.
“P-please marm - er - m’lady. It seems to me, if you can rescue me from that thing whats waiting out in the cold, then perhaps y’could save a whole family or a village or something thereabouts? That is, ifn it pleases your ladyship to do so.”
The woman continued to stare into the glowing embers of the fire, unmoving, a vacant, far away look in her eyes. Tam began to worry his words were lost on her.
Without warning the fire blazed forth, banishing the shadows and sending tendrils of heat swirling around the room. The woman gave a low, musical laugh and longing stirred in Tam’s heart. Throwing him another smile she answered,“Verily it would please me, dearest Tam. But my desire is not enough, I must be called upon. Fire can stave off the darkness for a little while, if men keep their doors shut and their eyes open. Wolves and snow can be stopped at the door. Still, other, darker forces pass through walls to steal children in the night and spread sickness to the old.” She heaved another sigh.
“Please m’lady, may I ask you. Could you not come an’ live among us? Why must you keep to this hall?”
“I am afraid not Tam, if I live among you, men will worship me. They will raise me up, naming me ‘goddess’. In time I would believe them and use my power beyond its purpose. Such has befallen my kindred before. Indeed you witnessed its effect on my horned brother.”
“But, surely, it is only right m’lady to worship someone as powerful and - er - comely as yerself?”
The woman’s voice grew serious, the faintest of frowns furrowing her brow. “ Is it fitting I should be worshiped for fulfilling my purpose? Each being has a role to play. It was given me to protect peace and warmth, life and light against highwinter - when world is darkest and most dangerous. It is given to men to bring forth life and love from the dust and given to the stars to sing and dance in the heavens. Is their task any lower than my own? Surely not, and I am not worthy of praise any more than the rest.” As she finished speaking her voice grew fell and dangerous, the fire leapt forth, writhing living thing. Malice flickered deep in her eyes.
Tam stumbled away from her as if struck by an invisible hand and fell to the floor, tears welling in his eyes. I’m not sure how much more o’ this I can take. I just want to be home safe and sound not tossed about by gods and horned devils. All this is far beyond me.
Immediately, the flames receded and the wrath dropped from the woman's face replaced by concern. “You must forgive me, I grow discontent as my power wanes. Feel no sorrow for me Tammery Larkin, for though my power may dwindle here for a little while, I will endure the winter and so must you. Come now, you are over late for the feast in Tallow.”
Then taking Tam’s arm she pulled him to his feet and lead him to another door a the opposite end of the hall. Flinging the door wide she stepped out into the frosty air. Tam stuck his head through the open doorway searching for any signs of the ghoul lurking in the shadows.
Seeing his hesitance the Woman laughed, the pure high notes flying away over the trees and into the distance. “Come now Tam, he will trouble you no more. Look there, the lights of Tallow call you safely home. I will watch you go and you shall arrive safe and sound.”
Tam stepped out of the hall coming to stand beside the woman. They were on the eve of a fir wood, off to their right lay the path leading down to the hill towards Tallow.
“M’lady, I don’t have the words what to thank you for saving me tonight. But I promise to tell others about you though they're sure not to believe me none,” said Tam, scratching sheepishly at his forehead.
Taking his hands the woman looked into Tams earnest gaze and nodded. “ That is all I require, thank you. Farewell Tam.”
Pulling away from her warm hands, Tam turned, and finding the path once again, he began to whistle as he approached the outskirts of Tallow.
The End
Where Ancient Poets’ eyes have gazed
The view from a hill all the way to the sea,
Should not also invoke rapturous praise,
In sojourner such as me?
Yet I am haunted,
So unfazed
My feeble joy wont to flee,
What could be blooming instead decays,
For why should I be happy?
Phoenix won't tour in Detroit. I know you’ve only heard 1901 but you’ve gotta believe me when I say this is devastating. You can shuffle their entire catalog without a single skip. They spent COVID in the effing Louvre writing Alpha Zulu, but they’re not going to come play it for me.
They went to Dallas though. I looked up photos of the South Side Ballroom and tried to imagine myself in that crowded dark room, watching the unconventionally hot Thomas Mars drawl his google-translate-filtered lyrics into a microphone in front of a faux curtain backdrop covered in fleur-de-lys. I get chills just thinking about it.
I told my brother to go see them on my behalf just to have some of my own blood present, but he didn't bite. I can listen to the new album on repeat all I want, but when I close my eyes I see the lights dimming in a dozen ballrooms around the globe in a finite set of evenings I will not share.
twitter, snap, youtube, myspace
tiktok, the vine, the gram, the face
tinder, xanga, verbo, a place
where existence is digital
yet human memories are made
seems like all the new haunts are built without mortar
but thrive and subside like any other place
find ways to decay in a new sort of way
mostly forgotten, sometimes explored
by a curious explorer who clicks around
scavenges through artifacts left behind
finds some memories made by beings who lived
about 5 years ago
but I will write a clever little program
a self sustaining program
capable of logging in on the next best thing
to emulate me
spreading words and phrases of yours truly
so I shall haunt places I've never seen
long after I'm dead
I like to ask people if they believe in ghosts because it usually sparks an interesting conversation. Most often people start their answer with something like “Not really. But…”
The following stories are all based on second, third, or even fourth-hand accounts I’ve collected… all events that someone somewhere swears really happened. To get the full effect you must imagine them being told in low voices round a flickering campfire on a windy October night–like in Are You Afraid of the Dark.
—
Sarah rolled over and looked at the clock. Almost 3:00 am. She listened hard, but didn’t hear anything. She checked the monitor just to be sure, but no lights were dancing, and all was dark and quiet. Strange that I should be awake when the baby isn’t, she thought. She decided to check on her, just in case.
She rubbed her eyes, more tired than usual from the long day. After traveling two hours to her husband’s grandma’s home and spending all day trying to organize some of her belongings while her husband sorted the final details of her transfer to a nursing home, Sarah was dead tired. She fell asleep hard, exhausted. So it surprised her to be awake now.
Trying not to stumble over the unfamiliar territory, she groped her way around boxes and piles of things in the dark. When she opened the door to the living room, she was stunned by the brightness of the moonlight spilling through the large windows. It was bright enough to make shadows. As she made her way to the baby’s room she heard a creak behind her, coming from the corner.
She turned her head, and there, sitting in the rocking chair, was an old woman she had never seen before dressed in prairie clothes. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat, her body paralyzed with fear. The old woman did not seem to notice her, just rocked back and forth in the chair.
Sarah found her ability to move again, and practically ran out of the room. She chanced a glance back at the silvery moonlit figure, and as she did, the old woman looked straight at her, and smiled a malicious, wicked smile. Sarah slept the rest of the night in the baby’s room on the floor. She never saw the old woman again.
—
It had been two weeks since Janet had lost her son. The funeral was over. No one was bringing meals anymore. She had not had any visitors since Thursday. It had just been her and her son for years before the accident, him always joking and playing practical jokes. He loved to do stupid things just to annoy her, like putting a rubber band around the handle of the kitchen sink hose so it would spray her when she turned on the faucet, or tearing off one square of toilet paper and placing it back in a careful manner so that when she went to unroll a bit, she would end up with just the one square.
Now there was no one to get after for such shenanigans and everything was unnaturally quiet. After spending all day by herself in the empty house her heart felt empty too, and the alone-ness crashed down around her like an avalanche.
As Janet used the bathroom getting ready for bed that night, she reached for the toilet paper. Just one square came off in her hand. Even though no one but her had been in the house all day, it had been torn off and placed carefully back. Janet, smiled, held the square to her heart, and felt less alone.
—
Every year for their family vacation the Valerys went to a cabin on the coast of Lake Huron. One night after dark, cousins Allona and Britt went out for a walk along the beach with Britt’s mom, Kay. It was a foggy night, and they kept hearing a strange noise fading in and out–something they later described as heavy machinery like in a factory.
They had been walking for some time when suddenly the noise stopped. When they looked around they saw a young girl in a white dress with long dark hair staring at them, feet in the water. Without communicating at all, Britt, Allona, and Kay turned around and ran as fast as they could. They ran all the way back to the cabin where they told all their relatives who laughed at them for running away from a girl on the beach, unable to translate to the others the fear they felt in her presence.
Weeks later when Kay had returned to work, she was telling some of her co-workers about the strange experience.
“You saw the ghost of Minnie Quay,” one of them told her. When Kay expressed confusion, the co-worker continued, “Up in Forrester in the late 1800s a young woman fell in love with a sailor. Her parents forbade her from seeing him and legend has it that his ship went down without her even getting to say goodbye. She waited until a night when her parents were gone, dressed herself in a white dress, went all over town waving to people, then threw herself off the dock and drowned in Lake Huron. It took them days to fish her body out. People–especially young–women, have reported seeing her ever since.”
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Everett was excited for some time to himself, his parents out of town for the weekend. Substantially responsible for an eighteen year old, his plans were to watch movies and eat junk food as much as he wanted.
Everett lived in a woodsy part of the country and that first night it was more windy than he remembered it ever being before, making the trees very loud. He came up from the basement to get a re-fill on snacks when the dog started barking furiously at the door. After several attempts to get him to shut up, Everett decided to let him outside.
The dog ran barking through the yard toward a tall man wearing what looked like a long bathrobe standing at the end of the driveway. At the same that Everett spotted the man, the dog stopped running, went completely silent, and cowered backwards before running back into the house, nearly knocking Everett over.
Everett was in a panic over the dog’s strange behavior and thought frantically about yelling at the man to go away or calling the police. But before he could formulate a plan, the man’s feet lifted off the ground and Everett watched in disbelief as he turned and floated away in the air behind a big group of trees, disappearing out of sight.
Everett closed and locked the door and didn’t let the dog out at night for the rest of the weekend.
Haunt me with your holy
Find me everywhere I go
Leave an echo in the valley
Leave the glory at the peak
Leave Yourself in all my places
But please
Don’t ever leave