Mother's Day was Yesterday but I'm Still Gonna Talk About It! by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

  So Mother's Day was yesterday and I'm a mom. Since I usually write my blog posts the day before, I bet you can already tell that this will be the equivalent of the present day filler episodes you always groaned about when you would tune into your favorite TV show for the evening way back when tv guides were a thing they printed in newspapers. Back then--God, I'm getting old--we had to endure all sorts of stuff, cliffhangers, commercials! and the occasional patchwork of show summaries told through flashbacks mid seasons. 

But some of you may want to know what I did this weekend. And if that's the case then you're in for a treat because I can honestly say that my Mother Day's escapades were so darn exciting that they left me with a very sore bum.  

Okay... don't look up sore bum memes on google...
*goes to tear out my eyes*

We went horseback riding! Actually we went glamping at a little ranch and they offered horse rides. It was fun! I had a little black horse named Ray and my husband got a much bigger horse named Blake. Now, I HAVE went horseback riding before, I'm not completely green, however, it was a long, LONG time ago... like longer than the lines at Disney World, or longer than grandpa's toenails or... *wait for it* longer than we've been waiting for George R. R. Martin to pen and publish Winds of Winter...

Ba Dum Tss! That's a wrap. We did the George joke. Roll credits!

So my bum got sore from all the trotting we did. In case you never noticed or knew, I have a small bum, with not much padding, and so I'm pretty sure I wore down my arse to my bum bones. Baby got back, I do not. Fat bottom girls... well, I defintiely don't make the world go round. 

We also got to stay in a lighthouse, which is where the glamping aspect comes in. I don't really enjoy camping as a rule. I hate sleeping in a tent and waking up soggy from all the humidity, but this was a nice little cabin-esk feel with a bed and running toilet and a view to die for all packaged in a thing that quite closely resembled a lighthouse. We ate lots of hotdogs, went hiking, and had a relaxing weekend. Which, if you're a mother you REALLY begin to appreciate after having a little one. Pre-kid me might have been bored out of their mind, but mom me was like... 

More wine please...

I also have great news! Which you will probably hear about more next month but if you managed to read down this far then WHOOT! You get to know first! 

One of the stories I have been working on won second place in the David Addam's Richard Prize for fiction! It's hosted annually by the Writer's Federation of New Brunswick, but as part of my cash reward I am also invited to a gala to do a reading! Yay!

Yay.

 It's pretty bewildering to me actually, because if you've read my earlier blogs you'd know that I was skeptical about winning in the first place. Why? Because the piece I submitted is pretty adult. And in general, adult themed books are not always taken seriously. 

I know, I know, you wanna know what it's about, but I can only give you a clue because, well... stuff! 

Well... it's KINDA a fanfic...

The Ghosts that Haunt New Brunswick by Diane Scott Lewis

 

Amelia is sent to a strange land in the eighteenth century to marry a soldier she's never met. But will the handsome Acadian, Gilbert, capture her heart? Part of the wonderful series of Canadian Historical Brides. The founding of a new colony by the Loyalists who fled the American Revolution.

To purchase On a Stormy Primeval Shore: CLICK HERE

As we near Halloween, I wanted to delve into the myths and ghosts of New Brunswick, Canada, where this novel is set.

In years of tales or myth, people have reported scented lilac ladies that float through rooms; keys that shift location; headless women; howling hounds; ghostly ships.

The Dungarvon Whooper is one of the most famous ghosts of New Brunswick. At Whooper Spring off the Dungarvon River (near Quarryville; once known as Indian town), there's an old logging campsite. The story goes that in the nineteenth century a young cook was murdered there by his lumber camp boss. His revengeful ghost terrifies local hunters, and especially lumbermen, with spine-tingling whoops.

Supposedly, the cook's grave has ever-blooming flowers. If anyone disturbs the grave, the ghost rushes out and screams. 

Another ghost story is told by an Acadian (the original French settlers) merchant. 

About forty years ago, in Northeastern N. B., a young man told a merchant that he was going fishing for months. He asked the merchant to supply his aged parents with groceries and when he returned he'd pay for them. Except, when the young man returned, he bought a car instead of paying the debt. When the merchant discovered this, he shouted: "He can go to hell!"

A week later, the young man went fishing again, got tangled in rough water, fell from his boat and drowned. Not long after, the merchant was cutting hay in his field. A big wind blew up, and in the middle of it rose the drowned man, his hair  blowing wild, wearing the same clothes he'd bought from the merchant's store. The merchant was so frightened, he burned the bills owed to him.

The drowned man's father came to him the next day and said he was walking his dog, and it howled and howled as if something was there. The unnerved father insisted on paying the debt. The village priest said to the father that his son was in Purgatory, and needed the debt paid so he could 'move on' to heaven.

In 1876, Rebecca Lutes of Moncton was only 16 when townsfolk believed she had supernatural powers. A judge condemned her as a witch and she was hanged from a tree branch, buried upside down, and concrete poured over the grave to keep her from crawling out. Today strange happenings are reported, floating lights, mysterious fires, and a creepy black cat, around her grave. 

I want to thank Alison Hughes for her wonderful site Eastern Gothic, ghost stories, for the first two stories:

https://new-brunswick.net/new-brunswick/ghoststory/ghost3.html

For more on me and my books, please visit my website: DianeScottLewis   

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.