Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts

Saturday, October 7, 2023

The Origins of Halloween by Eileen O'Finlan

NEW RELEASE! 




In my new historical novel, The Folklorist, main character, Charlotte Lajoie, puts together an exhibit on the history and evolution of Halloween for the New England Folklife Museum where she works. To accurately describe the exhibit, I had to do research on the subject. For this I relied heavily on a wonderful book by Halloween expert Lisa Morton called Trick or Treat: A History of Halloween.

I could not possibly relate all I learned in one blog post, so I will just offer an overview of the origins of the Halloween. 

As many people know, the holiday we celebrate on October 31st had its beginnings in the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, which means "summer's end." A Druid religious holiday, it was a three-day festival celebrating the reaping of an abundant harvest and the belief that souls journeyed to the other world, which they called Tir na tSamhraidh (Land of Summer) at this time. They believed that the veil between this world and that one was very thin at Samhain, allowing the dead to return to the living, and creatures called sidh (fairies) to cross to our side. On Samhain, a gathering was held that featured feasting, sports, repayment of debts, and legal trials, followed in some cases, by executions. Story-telling featured prominently at the festival, most stories having an eerie, supernatural element to them. Fortune-telling was also a favored element of Samhain.

Interestingly, by the 7th century, when the Celtic lands were Christianized, Samhain didn't totally disappear. It was transformed, yet it remained a religious holiday. By the 8th century, Pope Gregory III moved the feast of All Saints to November 1st, and 100 years later Pope Gregory IV declared it a universal Church holiday. Because "hallow" comes from the Old English word "halga", meaning holy, the night before All Saints Day became All Hallows' Eve, eventually morphing into Hallowe'en and finally Halloween.

Like Samhain, it was a three-day celebration consisting of All Hallows' Eve, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day. Though the Church purposely supplanted Samhain with these three days, the Celts were unwilling to entirely give up their ancient roots. They celebrated with traditional foods reminiscent of those used for the ancient festival and retained the mix of joyful celebration and somber contemplation of death.

By 1350 the Black Death had killed 60% of Europe's population. Popular culture changed along with this calamity bringing about a morbid fascination and obsession with death. The invention of the printing press allowed for the dissemination of artwork. Especially popular was an image known as the Danse Macabre which featured skeletons and Grim Reapers. These images soon became incorporated into the All Hallows' Eve festival especially since the belief that the dead cross over at this time had not left the Celtic lands. 


With the tens of thousands of women executed for witchcraft in the 1480s,  another Halloween icon arose - the witch. Suspected witches were often accused of causing or spreading the Plague and were believed to have a close association and sometimes a sexual relationship with devil. They soon became incorporated into the holiday as well. The traditional  image of the witch with a broom, cauldron, and cat, all symbols of female housekeeping, began to appear at this time.



It was in the mid-19th century that Halloween finally made its way to America along with Irish and Scottish immigrants.  As the newly emerging middle-class tried to imitate the British, they became fascinated with Queen Victoria's 1869 Halloween visit to Balmoral Castle in Scotland reported on in American newspapers. If the queen could celebrate Halloween, so could they!

By the early 20th century, Halloween was becoming established in America, though it was still very much an adult affair. That's not to say kids had no part in it. Children's Halloween parties became popular by the by the 1920s. On the downside, teen boys became so enamored of Halloween pranks that they grew in intensity and became so out of control that by the 1930s Halloween was nearly outlawed.

Civic organizations saved the day by offering parties, parades, costuming, carnivals, and contests to supplant the pranking. Handbooks, popular from 1915 to 1950 were written with instructions on how to celebrate the holiday. In the 1930s, neighbors pooled resources to create "house-to-house parties" in which groups of kids were taken from one house to the next, each house hosting a different theme - the precursor to trick-or-treating.

 


Finally, Halloween in America as we know it today came into its own shortly after World War II with the development of suburban neighborhoods and the ability to safely trick-or-treat for candy.

So, as you celebrate Halloween this year, remember you are taking part in a holiday with a long, varied, and fascinating history! 



 

Monday, August 7, 2023

Coming October 1, 2023 - The Folklorist by Eileen O'Finlan

 


I am excited to announce that my next historical novel, The Folklorist, will be released on October 1, 2023, by BWL Publishing just in time for Halloween! Charlotte Lajoie, a young professional folklorist, struggling to build her career in 1973, is given the 1839 diary of her ancestor Jerusha Kendall. Reading the diary leads her to believe that Jerusha and her family were involved in what would come to be known as the New England Vampire Panic. And it seems that at least one of Charlotte's ancestors is still angry about it. 

Jerusha Kendall was only nine years old in 1832 when something awful happened in her family, but she has no idea what. She has grown up knowing that not only her family, but the entire village of Birch Falls, Vermont is keeping it a secret from her. By 1839, when she begins keeping a diary, she's determined to learn what happened that caused her mother to stop speaking to her dearest friend, isolate Jerusha from all but her own family, and withdraw from their close-knit community.

As Charlotte studies Jerusha's diary, she starts to believe that she knows what happened even if Jerusha never figured it out. Meanwhile, Charlotte has her hands full trying to juggle work for an insecure, infuriatingly sexist boss at the New England Folklife Museum, decide on the way forward in her own career, and find a way to bring peace to an aggrieved ghost.

If you're interested in finding out what folklore, ghosts, and vampires have in common, check out The Folklorist in October.

Saturday, October 29, 2022

Windego, and other Monsters




Fly Away Snow Goose


WINDEGO: An evil spirit of the northland, a monstrous creature who comes prowling in winter, hungry for human flesh; it is remorseless, pitiless. 

If the year was a lean one, winter was a hard time for the hunter/gatherers who lived in the NWT. The People would leave their summer camps in small groups and scatter into the vast emptiness, away from the lakes and rivers where they'd all come together as a tribe to trade and celebrate the fat season of summe. Our of necessity, they'd change their tribal, summer way of life to retreat to live in isolation, hunting and trapping the range around them, away from others who were now engaged in the same thing. Sometimes, it did not go well; the hunters were not lucky; the game was scarce or had changed from their accustomed paths of migration. 

Then, the spectre of starvation haunted the isolated camps, and sometimes people were driven to desperate measures in order to survive. A man who had eaten his family in order to stay alive, was said to have "gone  Windego." Such a primal sin was viewed with horror, so a monster was created to explain this counter-cultural behavior. A few of those stories came to be written down in early colonial times, but the oral versions were well known to those who were exposed to the fierce winters, who sometimes had experienced, first-hand, hunger and the awful struggle to survive. 

It is said the Windego eats his own lips and checks, so his skull is always partially visible, and he arrives surrounded by a stench so horrible that it even overpowers the bitter winter wind.  People, driven to this extremity, were believed to have been taken over by this dreadful being, and that was the reason they had committed the unholy crime of cannibalism.  In fact, during the 19th Century, early Canadian psychologists defined "going Windego" as a "culturally based" disorder.

(Thunderbird--well known to the Northern First Nations--
among the Tlicho, Thunderbird was referred to indirectly, as "Father."
He's one of the good guys.)

Today, the Windego is, in some quarters, viewed as a cryptid. Wikipeidia defines cryptids as "animals that cryptozoologists believe may exist somewhere in the wild, but are not believed to exist by mainstream science." Cryptozoology primarily looks at anecdotes and blurry photos, the sort of  claims rejected by the scientific community. These monsters now feature in YouTube videos in all manner of ghastly forms, but this vision of the Windego is of only passing interest to me.

"Windego" appears to me--not as a myth created by "superstitious 1st Nation's People," --but as an acutely observed form of human personality disorder. I didn't figure this out on my own, but by listening to Buffy Sainte Marie's song called "Priests of the Golden Bull." 

She makes a connection with the storied monster and the unfettered greed and disregard for the cooperative behavior which holds together our societies. Look around. The Dark Triad personality, (where a subject possesses a toxic combo of Narcissism, Michiavellianism and Psychopathy) is having a good run these days among CEO's, Tech Bros, politicians, and the sort of "religous" figures who live in gated mansions and always need their followers to send more money. 

In a world where it's considered smart to get rich while ignoring the human suffering or the irreparable harm pursuit of this quarter's profits causes a community -- or the arm done to the water, the air, or the planet -- Ms. Sainte Marie sees the ever-hungry, cannibalistic Windigo. The "Greed is Good," mentality is on display everywhere. 


Take a look at ever so many modern companies, their successes measured by how many jobs they've eliminated, or how they've stolen pension funds from retirees in the course of a merger, or how many rural communities they have destroyed, for instance, building a petrochemical refinery or an industrial pig farm next door to a small town which doesn't have the clout to fight back. 

"Gentrification" in cities raises rents until the essential workers--those who run the store checkouts, clean the buildings and streets, teach and/or care for children and seniors, can no longer afford to live close to where they are employed. Other casualties include small entrepreneurial businesses of all kinds, from restaurants and local bars, to independent bookshops and corner convenience stores.





Today's Windego doesn't just live in the deep woods. These days, he (or she) is seen as a "celebrity," on our television screens, and all over the internet and Twitter. Many are even elected to high public office. Worst of all, their "Not my brother's keeper" attitude is now held up to young people as the smart way to live. 

Instead of dwelling on psychos and cannibals, instead, let's take this time of All Hallows, All Saints and All Souls to find some peace and to give thanks: to remember our ancestors, our friends, mentors, and family who have passed beyond the veil. Let's also remember our honored dead, the kind of people who served and helped, rather than injured, the common folks of our communities and our country. 


~~Juliet Waldron 
All my historicals may be seen @






 






Thursday, October 27, 2022

October, Halloween, new books, and all kinds of bugs - by Vijaya Schartz

Find this new release at your favorite online retailer HERE
amazon B&N - Smashwords - Kobo


Halloween decorations are up everywhere. Spooky skeletons and shadowy graves, giant spiders, ghosts, and scary sounds punctuate the season. And new book releases on the same theme accentuate the mood.

Around Phoenix, Arizona, it’s also the season when night temperatures finally drop, prompting us to open doors and windows. Of course, the bugs take it as an invitation to get indoors to shelter from the cold… and here, the buggers are big, and some can kill you, like scorpions, centipedes, killer bees, black widows. There are also roaches, brown spiders, moths, horse flies, wood bees, fire ants, and West-Nile- diseased mosquitoes.

I refuse to spray harmful chemicals around my place, so I adopted a direct approach, the smash technique. I’m good at it, and I kill nine times out of ten. No quarters. They invade my home, they want to kill me or suck my blood, they have to die. If I don’t have a fly swatter handy, my bare hand or a shoe will do, depending on toxicity. This favorite technique also keeps my reflexes sharp.


Fortunately, in my constant hunt for bugs, I have some help. Princess Jasmine, my sixteen-year-old calico cat, is also a great hunter of bugs… and lizards… and other critters. Did you know cats are immune to scorpions? They are.

Unlike me, Princess Jasmine usually eats her fresh kill, chewing it with gusto… even if it’s still wiggling. Personally, I prefer to drop the cadavers in the trash… or flush them down the toilet. But, to each his own…

There are none of these bugs in my latest science fiction novel, as space is not a welcoming environment for them. But ANGEL SHIP, Book One of the Blue Phantom series, features a strong heroine, a brave hero, twisted villains, lots of action and adventure, a little romance, and a large feline bodyguard with deadly fangs and claws. Hope you enjoy it.

All my eBooks are currently half off at SMASHWORDS! Hurry!

 The Blue Phantom glows like a beacon in black space, appears and vanishes, and never registers on scanners. Rumors say it will save the righteous, the oppressed, and the downtrodden… and slay the unworthy without mercy. The space pirates fear it. Their victims pray for it… but its help comes at a price…

Desperate to save her people from the Marauders swarming her space freighter, Kefira prays for a miracle. Blake Volkov, legendary captain of the Blue Phantom hears her plea and deems her and her refugees worthy of his help. Grateful for the rescue, Kefira finds his price shocking. But despite his glowing wings, handsome looks and impressive abilities, Blake admits he is no angel… although Kefira’s feline bodyguard strongly disagrees.

Meanwhile, an old enemy bent on revenge unleashed an unspeakable evil on the galaxy. Time to face past mistakes… time for innocent blood to flow. Nothing prepared Kefira for the upheaval ahead.

Can Blake find redemption? Can Kefira save her people? Can she ever trust and love again?


Find more similar novels set in the Azura universe at:


Vijaya Schartz, author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats



Friday, September 9, 2022

Brace Yourself, Sweater Weather--and a New Book-- is Coming by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page


      September! It is offically spooky season! The stores are already stuffed full of Halloween goodies, and I just can't wait to jam them in all corners of my house until it resembles something haunted and is a possible candidate for Hoarders: Horror Edition. Whoot! I always get excited for this time of year, because not only are witches and warlocks about, it's also sweater and leggings season and MAN can I rock a good sweater/legging combo! 


For real tho! Pants are way overrated. I don't need that kinda stress in my life, especially with the holidays fast approaching. And as much as I love summer, I hate being so super hot that I can't go outside without slathering cream all over my face to prevent it from turning into some kind of fruit/veg hybrid! 


So leggings and sweaters! Cozy, yet fashionable enough that when someone comes for a surprise visit, you aren't hiding in the next room hoping they go away because you've been sweltering in your underwear all day. Also support. Leggings are like... the new bra. Especially for us folks who've had a baby or two or like to indulge in an extra slice of ice cream cake every now and then.


But despite sweater weather fast approaching, I can't get over the fact that Christmas decorations are already starting to show up on shelves. Is it just me? Is anyone else out there nauseated by the fact that December is like four months away and already the holly jolly face of Santa Clause is trying to pervert our thoughts with this overwhelming beast of a holiday? FOUR MONTHS! That's a third of the year that our stores are infested with this festive parasite!

It drives me nuts. I mean, I like Christmas, but I like Christmas in December! Leave September, October and November alone, Kris Kringle, we aren't ready for you yet! 

Saying that, I am excited to announce that my co author and I are about to release the second book in the Ballroom Riot series. If you didn't notice that sparkly new book cover up top, go and check it out! It would definitely make a great Christmas gift....


Bunker Blitz is set to release in October. Not sure of the exact date yet, but I can promise that it'll be out before Winds of Winter. That thing is just a lost cause by now. I mean... I really want to go watch House of Dragon but I just can't bring myself to do it until he finishes the Song of Fire and Ice series. So I guess I'll never see it... unless by some miracle he pens the book... or he dies and his publisher gets someone else to do it...

Which mean's he's basically immortal now *shrug*

 But in the meantime! Bunker Blitz! Ya know, in case you were too lazy to scroll up ;)


Resentment is brewing in the streets of Comero. Although local dragon Shad O’Rahin thought his enemies were finally eliminated, the return of an old rival threatens to shake his grip on the city’s illegal liquor trade. While he takes steps to eliminate the danger to his enterprise, Shad’s wife, Scarlet Fortune is caught in the crossfire. 

Scarlet is the last vampire left in the Comero Police Department. When blackmail begins to jeopardize her career, she launches an investigation to take care of the situation on her own. But with their first child on the way and an unexpected visit from reptilian in-laws throwing their peaceful homelife into turmoil, the situation may prove too tough to tackle alone. Especially when a pretty gold dragon starts making eyes at her husband!

Their difficulties only escalate, leading them both into danger as they peek at the rotten underbelly of Comero’s vampire blood trade. With other dragons in town vying to drive a wedge between them, can Scarlet and Shad find a way to face the threat together?

…all while picking out baby names?



Sunday, October 17, 2021

The Front Porch Is Decorated by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Granddaughter #decorating #Halloween

 


My one book with a Halloween scene.  Written for my black adopted daughter andfour of my grandchildren. Wonder when my eldest grannddaughter will undecorate so we can be ready for Christmas.


The last week in September arrived. My granddaughter came downstairs. "The porches in the neighborhood are boring." Not that on our block the ten houses all have porches. Five do and five do not. I just shrugged. "Do you mind if I decorate a bit? she asked. "Go ahead." I thought of something for fall. Well Halloween is fall but what my porch has become since the end of September is quite stunning, I guess. If I can get the pictures to hit this post, you will see what she has done. Halloween is still weeks away. Her furious decorating spree was completed before September ended.


Notice the rose garden still in bloom.


An over view of the entire porch.

The cemetery in the rose garden


Even the front door didn't escape


Creatures taking up space on the furniture,


All the witches brooms. Notice there are two one for her and one for me.

Now the month is half over, she's already planning the Christmas display. I figure before November ends, there will be Christmas on my porch, A big thanks to Ashley for providing me with these many pictures.

If you want to locate me in cyberspace or take a gander at my books, the following will help.

Tuesday, October 27, 2020

SPECTACULAR FULL MOON THIS HALLOWEEN – by Vijaya Schartz

Find Vijaya's latest novels HERE
Nowadays, few pay attention to the cycles of the Moon, especially if they live in a city. But for others, including farmers and scientists, the Moon has always been a subject of wonder, and for good reason. The Moon affects our everyday lives in ways we do not always suspect. 

This year, Halloween falls on a full Moon, the Hunters Moon, which is also a blue Moon. It doesn’t mean the Moon will be blue, only that it's the second full Moon this month, a rare occurrence in itself. And according to the Farmer’s Almanac, we will next see a spectacular Halloween full Moon in the years 2039, 2058, 2077 and 2096. Mark your calendars. 



The first full Moon of October was the Harvest Moon on October 1st, the perfect time for a Harvest Festival. In the old days, for many centuries, and still in traditional farms following the Farmer’s Almanac, the Moon dictates the time of planting and Harvest. Using the natural cycles of dormancy, regeneration, blooming, ripening, etc. to their advantage. 



For many animals, particularly birds, the phases of the Moon are essential to navigate during migrations. Other species will time their reproduction to coincide with the lunar cycles. The corals time their spawning between October and December, right after a full Moon. The visual effect of this coordinated lunar timing is so dramatic that it can be seen from space. In Africa, Dung beetles navigate at night by the light of the Moon in a perfect straight line to their burrow. 


The Moon also regulates the ocean tides and influences women’s reproductive cycles. Women are more fecund (assuming a natural cycle) during the full Moon, and both men and women experience increased libido, which leads to fertility. Ancient Pagan festivals celebrated this fact during the full Moon. 


If you take the time, you’ll notice that important movable events (like some religious holidays) are scheduled on or as close to the full Moon as possible, when people have more energy. It’s not a coincidence. It’s also true of certain conventions and conferences who want to attract more people, and these auspicious dates are often booked far in advance.


My mother, who was a hairdresser, told me always to cut my hair a few days after the full Moon, because hair grows faster when the Moon is full, and if you wait, your haircut will look fresh longer. To this day, I still respect that rule. 

The Moon affects our circadian cycles as well. During the full Moon, people complain of not sleeping well and experience Increased energy. This wide-awake state is also responsible for full Moon madness in emergency rooms, and increased number of births in maternity wards – Even the babies want to come out and play. Ask any emergency doctor, maternity nurse, police officer, or EMT, and they will confirm this fact. 


So, this year, we are expecting an energy-filled Halloween night. As for the repercussions in our backyards, coyotes will howl, dogs will bark, and cats will roam longer than any other night. If you plan to take part in the fun, be safe and enjoy. 

             

But if you are looking forward to a good read with a cup of cocoa by the fire, here are a few suggestions:

Find it HERE
WHITE TIGER
Chronicles of Kassouk
by Vijaya Schartz
Sci-fi romance
$1.49 in kindle now HERE

On the frozen plains of Kassouk, where a few aliens rule a medieval Human world, Tora, Human warrior trained by tigers, seeks her father’s murderer. But what she finds at the point of her sword confuses her. How dare Dragomir, the handsome Mutant, question her bloodline and her loyalties? And could a new enemy control the savage hordes of the fringe?

Dragomir offers to help, but Humans and Mutants are forbidden to fraternize under penalty of death... Should Tora trust her mind, her instincts, or her heart?

In the vortex of war, treason and intrigue, among blizzards, avalanches and ambushes, Tora sets out to solve the mystery of her father’s death. When she unveils the secret of her birth, she realizes Dragomir is the key, and together, they must save their planet from the invaders and fulfill their destiny... if they can survive dire persecutions from those they mean to protect.

"...an exceptional tale that belongs in a place of honor on keeper shelves everywhere." Coffee Time Romance - 5-cups

"...this is one futuristic that you do not want to miss!" Fallen Angels Reviews - 5 angels - Recommended Read

"...kept me enthralled from the first page...a thrilling science fiction romance" Paranormal Romance Reviews

"I'm adding this to my 'keeper' shelf and on the 'to be re-read' list." The Road to Romance


Vijaya Schartz, author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
amazon B&N - Smashwords - Kobo FB


Saturday, October 3, 2020

Voodoo Dolls in Small Town Ontario by Diane Bator


Who would have thought you would see Voodoo Dolls in the window of a shop in small town Ontario, Canada? Audra Clemmings certainly didn't! Part of my inspiration for the voodoo dolls in Miss Lavinia's shop window was helping out with a Haunted Dojo every year while I worked at a karate school (something that still might appear in my Gilda Wright Mystery series!) A bigger part of my inspiration was a trip to New Orleans this past Christmas.
Part of me wished I'd bought one to bring home.
The rest of me was scared to!

When Audra discovers voodoo dolls in the window of Miss Lavinia's shop near Halloween, she isn't too concerned. Until she finds one in a box of Halloween decorations that looks just like her father. A quick trip to Miss Lavinia's shop, reveals a perfectly innocent explanation. Miss Lavinia is a natural healer and uses them to continue healing her patients long after they have left her shop.
Audra is satisfied with that explanation until one of those patients is found dead...

My attempt at making string voodoo dolls with keychains attached! 
Not all voodoo dolls are used for evil or black magic. Most rituals are intended for the well-being of the intended person. Miss Lavinia uses voodoo dolls as a medium for prayers and healing. She added items of her patients clothing and hair when she could obtain them and used anointing oils such as lavender and eucalyptus among others to enhance the power of her healing and send a clear message. 

Although voodoo dolls can be energized to create malice and ill-will, doing bad only gives bad results. It can also lead to depression, conflicts, and bad luck for the user. So far, that hasn't happened in my Sugarwood Mystery series, but who knows?

Outline for a fabric voodoo doll...or chalk outline depending on how you look at things!
Just as in all forms of ritual, some healers use different colors of dolls to obtain different results:
     White – positive, purification, or healing.
     Black – can be used to dispel negative energy or summon it.
     Yellow – for success and confidence.
     Purple – for the spirit realm, balance, or mental exploration
     Red – for love, attraction, or power.
     Green – for growth, wealth, money, and fertility.
     Blue – for love and peace.

I guess my little red and blue voodoo doll is all about the love and peace. Maybe I'll hang him up near my computer as a good omen. Since the other one is currently unadorned, I'll have to find some string for him soon.
Or keep him as a Mummy. LOL!

Have a safe and happy October!

Diane Bator

Drop Dead Cowboy and other Diane Bator mysteries!

Saturday, October 26, 2019

My offering for Halloween—Tricia McGill

Find all my books here on my Books We Love author page
As it’s about that time of year again when folk start to think about ghoulies and ghosties etc. so I thought my creepy short story might be appropriate. It is called A Bad Mistake.

“I don’t want to go, Clive.” Mary sat on the side of the bed and pouted.
“Oh come, don’t be a kill-joy, sweetheart.” Clive tugged at her arm.
“But I didn’t like the look of him.” Mary shuddered as she recalled the stranger who spoke to them earlier. “His eyes seemed to be going right through me.”
“Nonsense, darling, he’s just a bit different to what we’re used to. Typical English country type.” Clive laughed. “You have to expect them to be a bit unusual round here. This town’s very isolated so I don’t suppose they see many outsiders. Except for the tourists who stay in this hotel, and from what I could see there’s not that many.”
“I do wish you hadn’t told him we were on our honeymoon. He had a distinct leer on his face at that piece of information. You shouldn’t have told him where we come from.”
“You’re a funny little thing.” Clive fondly chucked her beneath the chin. “I merely told him we’d come to visit distant relatives of ours and that we’d arrived from Australia on Tuesday.”
“You also told him we were named after our English grandparents.”
“What’s so wrong with that?” Clive shrugged. “Anyway he seemed eager to take us to see the badgers in the woods. It will be nice to see some unusual wildlife while we’re here.”
“All right,” she conceded. “I agree it’ll be a treat. A bit different to kangaroos and wombats.” She pulled on her coat. “That’s if we ever actually get to see them. Why did we have to wait until after ten to go? It’s pitch black out there. You know I hate the dark. I’d prefer to stay here where it’s snug—and safe.”
Clive grinned as he shrugged into his windcheater. “We can’t spend all our time tucked away up here. Much as I’ve enjoyed it so far. We don’t want the locals talking about the Aussie honeymooners who never left their room, do we?”
“We could stay down in the bar,” Mary said eagerly. “I love that quaint room with the peat fire and the locals playing darts and dominoes.”
“Bit late for them now. I expect they’ve all gone home to their own fires. Come on, let’s go down and wait outside for him.”
They made their way down the narrow winding staircase, and then out through the side door of the inn.
Mary shivered as she dug her hands into her pockets and snuggled closer to Clive. “Doesn’t look like he’s coming. It’s cold out here, Clive, and very misty.” The trees surrounding the tiny car park at the side of the inn were mysterious silhouettes. The moon had hidden itself from view. “This village is a dream in the daytime, but this time of night it looks positively creepy. Did you fetch the torch?”
“Oh Mary, you’re vivid imagination is too much at times. Damn, forgot it, but suppose he’ll have one—ah, you’ve arrived.” Clive turned to greet the local man they met earlier. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”
The stranger’s cap concealed most of his face, and his great coat reached his ankles. He wasn’t carrying a torch. “No, I wouldn’t do that young fellow. Ready?”
“Sure thing.” Clive rubbed his palms together. “Give me your hand, darling.”
Mary stepped back. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to go.”
“Okay.” Clive gave her a gentle push. “You go back inside and I’ll go by myself.”
“No, if you go, then so will I.” Mary glanced about, before linking hands with Clive. They followed the stranger, who was now well ahead. “It’s awfully dark beneath these trees, Clive. He’s marching along as if he has a train to catch.” An owl hooted overhead, startling Mary. “I swear he has cat’s eyes.” It was now only just possible to discern the stranger through the murkiness.
“Don’t hang onto my sleeve so hard, darling.” Clive removed her clinging hand and enfolded it in his again. “You were dragging my coat off my back.”
Mary squeaked when an animal the size of a cat ran out in front of them then disappeared into the darkness. “Yikes, that scared the hell out of me, Clive.” They came out of the trees onto a large open space. “This is that old disused airfield we passed this morning. The village looked like something out of a picture postcard then, but it’s eerie and strange now. And what’s that funny droning sound?”    
The stranger had stopped, and when they drew level with him, said, “This way, my dears. Some say that noise is the ghostly echoes of all the aircraft that took off from here during the war and never returned to the home base.”
“I hate it here,” Mary whispered. Clive gave her arm a shake.
The stranger chuckled. It was not a cheerful sound. “But it’s merely the insects and wild-life. My grandfather was a pilot. He used to bring me here when I was young. He would tell me wonderful stories about this place and the men who perished in the planes that left here.”
“It’s so dark,” Mary grumbled.
“I’d know my way around blindfold.” The stranger moved off.
“Seems an odd place for badgers to be,” Mary whispered.
The man suddenly stopped, saying, “What’s that light there? Strange. I’d better investigate.”
“We’ll wait here for you,” Clive said.
He walked off, leaving them alone. “I hate it here, Clive.” Mary shuddered. “I never saw any light did you?”
The man silently reappeared and Mary jumped out of her skin. “It’s the entrance to a bunker,” he said. “It’s probably only the local kids mucking about. They get down there for a lark. It’s quite interesting really. Come and have a look. All the old staff quarters are down there.”
As Clive made to follow, Mary caught his sleeve. “No, don’t go.”
“Don’t be a wet blanket, darling.” Clive gave her arm a squeeze. “You’re carrying on as if the place is haunted. It’s only a tunnel. What about the caves back home? You weren’t scared of them.”
“Well, I’m not staying here alone.” Mary grimaced. “I’ll have to come with you.”
The stranger beckoned to them, and they joined him at a small square hatch. He’d lifted the lid and a hazy shaft of light showed up a ladder leading into a passageway below. Lifting a leg he cocked it over the knee-high wall around the entrance, then disappeared.
“I’ll go first, love, to catch you if you fall.” Clive began to descend. Halfway down, he called up. “Mind how you climb down, Mary, It’s a bit rusty.”
When they were standing on rough ground at the bottom, Mary asked in a shaky voice, “Where’s he gone? That light’s almost gone now. And what’s that peculiar smell. It stinks like that dead cow we saw once at the side of the road.”
Clive took her hand again. “There he is.” The stranger was at the end of a corridor that was barely wide enough for them to walk side by side. “Come on, he’s beckoning to us.”
Mary pulled him back. “I don’t want to go any further. It’s creepy.”
“Don’t be silly, love. All right, you stay here, and I’ll just see what he’s up to.”
Mary shuddered as Clive walked off. At the end of the corridor, he turned to give her a wave before he went around the corner.
Mary pressed herself against the wall, goose bumps covering her scalp. When an eerie sound echoed off the walls, she let out a small scream. “Clive, who’s that laughing?” she called. “I’m coming down there, wait for me.” She tripped as she raced to the corner, grazing her hands on the rough walls as she steadied herself.
The stranger stood outside an opening where the light came from. “Come on in, my dear, he said. “Join the game.”
Mary tentatively neared the doorway, gasping when she looked into the room.  Clive sat at a table with six other men. “Clive, why are you playing cards with these men?” she croaked.
Vaguely she was aware of their clothing, as they seemed to dither and recede before her eyes. They all wore what she recognised as flying jackets—the type you saw in films about the war.
“What are they doing down here?” As she said this, all their faces went blank, like a painting where the artist hadn’t got around to putting their features in yet. She screamed. The stranger’s laugh was sinister. “Clive…I can’t…see their faces,” she stammered. Clive was smiling, but then his face grew faint. “What’s wrong with you?” Mary reached out to touch him, but as he smiled at her, his face went fuzzy. “Clive!” Her shout reverberated off the walls.
Mary whirled and ran. When she reached the end of the corridor, she couldn’t see the ladder. She sobbed as she frantically scrabbled about. In terror, she turned about and retraced her steps—only to meet a dead end.

Author’s note: When newly married, my husband and I stayed with friends near a disused airport outside Aylesbury, Bucks. The group of us would walk there after dark and the men—as young men do—took great delight in scaring the wits out of us females with ghost stories. This is the only horror story I ever wrote and it still gives me the creeps.
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