Friday, July 23, 2010

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night...


Gather ‘round the cauldron, everyone, and cozy your overstuffeds right up close to it, because I have a Tale Worthy of a Tell, as my Great Aunt Driven always calls them. (Curious? Long ago and maybe even before that, my aunt was nicknamed such, because her hair suddenly whitened at an unexpected age (?!) ~but that’s another story indeed.) She’s the one who got me interested in the first place in what I'm about to share with you. Whereas some people delight in their ongoing accumulation of

I couldn’t stop myself from posting these--my Tulah would simply die for them! I just might put them under the tree for her, come Christmas!)
salt and peppers
( My other great aunt, Tu, does.),

or "books of major significance" but then again, mostly not (That would be you, Gemmama!), or "decades and decades of spent saliva," as my philatelist Great Uncle Ned refers to it, I, on the other hand, collect ghost stories ~~many of which I inherited from dear Driven, who does the same.

Still comfy? Cauldron’s not too hot or bubbly for you? Then here’s a bump in the night from my "Recentlies" file. It’sure to give you that goblins-blowing-cold-breath-on-you feel:

It was a dark and stormy night... GOTCHA! That was just me tinkering with you! I’ve always wanted my telling of a tale to open that way, and I thought this might be that opportunity. A thousand pardons, then? Thank you! No more fun-fussy, I promise you. I will begin again:

This uncanny story comes from a young man named Shawn, who grew up in a very old house. But it’s best when he’s spinning the yarn:

"As a result of pecking order, I got the single attic room by myself. One summer night when I was about sixteen, it was so hot in my room that I couldn’t stand it. So, around one o’clock in the morning, I decided to go downstairs, where I collapsed in the livingroom loveseat. I didn’t bother to turn the lights on.

"I hadn’t been there long when I sensed that someone was sitting next to me. Next to me was a woman wearing an old-fashioned wedding dress. No sooner had I seen the young bride than, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the figure of a man dressed as a minister standing in front of the loveseat. He was muttering something like, ‘You could marry my daughter.’ I just sat there, frozen. Then he began reciting, ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...

"I thought I must be dreaming, so I jumped up and ran to the kitchen sink to splash water on my face. But, just before I could get to the sink, the man reappeared in front of me again, repeating, ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...’ I looked to my left and there she was standing again–-the woman in the wedding dress–-standing next to me. So I ran past the minisster—or rather through him—and back up to my attic bedroom. I got under the covers—because ghosts can’t get you when you’re under the covers—and tried to forget about the heat and about what just happened. Eventually, I fell asleep.

"The next morning, I decided not to tell anybody for fear they’d think I was crazy. Years later, My sister and I were talking about that house. At one point, she asked me if I knew the history of it. I told her no and asked her to fill me in. She told me that there was a young woman living there long ago who was jilted on her wedding day. For years afterwards, she never left the house.

"There was no electricity in the house back then, and folks would sometimes see her at night, walking with a candle. She died in the room that became my sister’s room after my family moved in.

"My sister went on to tell me about something strange that had happened to her in the house. It happened one night after she broke up with her boyfriend. She was laying on her bed, crying when she heard the distinct sound of a woman cackling right there in the room with her."
(Excerpted from a called The Ghost Next Door by Mark Alan Morris, whom I hope doesn’t mind me passing the story along to you, here. Thank you very kindly, sir!)

You can’t help but wonder what would have happen if Shawn had stuck around for the rest of the ceremony!

Now might I interest you in a piece of pie to settle those rattled bones?

It’s blueberry booberry!

bride, pie: I'm still trying to locate the source, as I seem to have misplaced it!


  1. Do the shivers still have a hold on you? You're more than welcome to loosen them up with a second piece of pie! Oh, come on ~ You know you want to! lol!

  2. are a wonderful story teller!! I loved it! I am a ghost hunter myself so I can appreciate stories like this! That pie looks DE-licious! xoxo

  3. What a delightful tale of terror! And the pie looks fabulous! You are a great storyteller!
    Enjoy your day!

  4. Merry Hello, Michelle! Thank you, but I really shouldn't take all the storytelling credit. Shawn, the ghost experiencer, did almost all of the work. Maybe, next up, I should bake humble pie?! lol!

  5. Oh, Coralie, how nice of you to make my blog page one of your stops! Coralie--such a lovely name! I liken it to a one word melody! Agree?

    Dew drop? (a short way to say "Do drop by again?")

  6. I would LOVVVVVE to have the recipe for the concoction you speak of! Please, please send it my way! Feel free to email me or post in a comment. Waiting impatiently!

  7. Merry we meet again, Michelle! I would be delighted to share the blueberry mead recipe with you! I'll head to the kitchen straightaway to locate Aunt Driven's recipe. Hopefully, I won't have to "unearth" too much in order to find it. Please look for it in in my next blog entry? Thank you!

  8. Booberry pie? Yummers! You're so cute and clever.