An Accidental Haunting

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An Accidental Haunting-By Debbi Decker

I have often wondered what it would be like to be a ghost. What would I do, who would I haunt? I suppose it would depend upon how I left this mortal coil. Sometimes I think I would like to hang around, maybe play practical jokes on my loved ones. But what if that were not the case? What if I were caught in some kind of time warp, where I would be doomed to repeat things over and over?

There is a type of ghostly activity called a residual haunting. The ghosts re-enact the same events repeatedly. Think of it like a taped show that you watch or a song you play again and again. Examples of a residual haunting would be seeing Civil War soldiers marching on the anniversary of a battle in a particular area. Or the screams heard yearly in Hampton Court attributed to Catherine Howard as she was being dragged away to prison on the orders of Henry VIII.

Years ago, I used to travel to visit my mother in South Carolina every April 16th. I would get up in the wee hours and begin my journey. Flying down the road, my car windows would be open, and my music would be cranked to full blast. Rarely would there be anyone on the road with me, maybe a trucker or two, here and there.

I would pass this little farmhouse right around 4 A.M. every single year. The house would be completely dark, the inhabitants sound asleep. Imagine, being woken up each year at the same time to music. At first it comes softly, and then rises in volume, only to fade away again. The way the house was situated, the headlights on my car would not have been seen.

Years later, it crossed my mind that the people who lived in that house might have thought that they were the victims of a haunting! I imagined that they would wake up, confused, and a bit frightened. I could hear the conversation in my mind, something along the lines of “Pa, there’s that music again! Its April 16th and its come again! Same time too! I swear we got a ghost in here!”

I stopped my annual journeys some time ago. But, sometimes I remember the little farmhouse and I wonder, do they still listen for the music? Did they ever wait up and watch to see exactly what it was? In all likelihood, they probably never heard me pass by. Its fun to think that I could have been an accidental haunting and it sure gives me a chuckle to think about it.

Debbi Decker is proprietor of twistedpixelstudio Art & Assemblage Emporium. Check out her artist page to find links to her shop and blog to read more of her writings. Visit again next month for the telling of hauntings and ghostly tales by Debbi Decker.

Spring Once Again

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Spring Once Again
Written by Intricate Knot (exactly as was told to her)

By Intricate Knot

“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

If the day had been less fine and clear, I may have missed it. If it had rained that day, I would have hurried myself home to sit by the fire and enjoy a cup of hot chocolate and a biscuit or two (perhaps even three). But though I could feel ice in the air the sun shone down prettily, it was a fine day and I didn’t miss a thing. There in my forest home, straight across the path to my house a lovely black-as-coal kitty and a precious white-as-whipped-cream bunny scampered together. Together, you say? I do, indeed. Together. The cat did not chase the rabbit. No. They skipped together, hand-in-hand across the path and through the woods.

I couldn’t let them go. I had to find out. What are they doing together? And where are they going in such a big hurry? And what are those colorful witches’s hats doing on their heads?? The cat wore a soft velvety purple with a chartreuse silky ribbon and the rabbit sported a rosy satin affair along with an eye-catching vest to match. Where did they acquire such fine fashions? I wondered.

Curiosity is something of which I always indulge and this day was no exception. Off the path and into the woods after them I ran.

I have to say, I was out of breath before too long. I’m mostly human, you see, and the human part of me tends to slow me down. My heart thundered in my chest so loudly, I was certain the two I barely kept in sight could hear it and at any moment they would turn and ask,

“What are you doing, clumsy human girl? You don’t really think you can keep up with the likes of us!” Then they’d laugh and run straight out of my view. That cannot happen, I told myself. And quite miraculously, it didn’t.

It was dark in this part of woods. The trees are amazingly tall and dignified. Beautiful, of course, but they do tend to block out the light. I’m not afraid. Of course not. However, I am a bit clumsy even in the best of light. Breathing hard now, I crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t trip. And quite miraculously, I didn’t.

At the clearing, they finally stopped those mischievous two (yes, true I did not know them all too well or even at all! But something sparked and crackled in the air around them. I knew this, because I ran straight through it). They sat as pretty as you like, on a smooth, large gray stone right next to the river.

I kept my distance. If they didn’t know I was there (though, I’m sure that they did), I did not wish to startle them. I too, sat on a large stone, but at the edge of the clearing under a great Noble Fir. I heard the two whispering and strained to hear what they said. I couldn’t make out their conversation, though. I don’t mind saying that disappointment began tapping on my shoulder just about then. What good had it been to follow them all this way, tear my stockings, rip my hem, and sit on this cold stone in the chill of the air, if I wasn’t going to find out anything about them? I was considering how to introduce myself, when something purely mystical-magickal happened!

Music began to play. I heard it play in the distance. It sounded like it was coming from the river and I could tell that it was getting closer. Now I sat quietly, smoothed back my hair and folded my hands firmly in my lap.

The cat, sleek and sweet, turned to his good friend (I could tell they were cherished friends, I felt it in the air along with the sparks and the crackles) and said with a smile,

“Aloysius, dear lad, I do believe it is time.”

“Right as always, Fiddler,” and with that the rabbit pulled out a wood flute.
‘Ah,’ I thought happily, ‘I’ve discovered their names!’ It was completely worth the flight through the woods just to know Aloysius Bunny and Fiddler-the-Cat. Marvelous. But more was in store!

Fiddler had brought out his namesake and the two began to play, adding their instrumental chorus to the oncoming music, which now grew closer still. That’s when I saw the small boats, made of pearly pink shells, filled with luminous petite faeries, each of whom sparkled with a different color: lavender, periwinkle, coral, lemon, and mint. And as sparkles go, these were very easy on the eyes.

As the tiny boats pulled up alongside Fiddler and Aloysius, I had a moment of panic. As delightful as faeries are, I am no stranger to their wily powers. Must I always be led by my (at times) regrettable curiosity? What had I possibly got myself into this time? As quietly as I could, I stood up and began to slowly back away. Perhaps if I reached the wood in time, the faeries might not notice me! But, that wasn’t the case. I knew that as soon as the most dazzling pink of the lot waved and then beckoned to me. Did I just swallow a bug? Or was that a lump of fear in my throat? Fear? Surely that was a bug. I silently apologized to the bug for eating it and gingerly made my way to group of magickal creatures.

After introductions were made between the Faerie Royalty and I (I’m sorry, but I was sworn to secrecy and I cannot reveal their names to you, if I did I’m sure I’d get into all sorts unfunny trouble), Fiddler told me,

“The faeries and us need assistance with Spring.”
Stunned that such beauteous creatures could want anything from me, I nodded eagerly,

“You’ve only to ask what you need and I’ll do my very best to comply.”
It was then Aloysius’ turn,

“It’s Spring, you see. It needs to be sprung.”
Huh. Who would have guessed that? Not I.

I’ve never helped spring Spring, before. This could be fun! And what an educational experience it could turn out to be. Not a bad item to list on your resume. Not that I’m looking for a job. Not that I need one. Sorceress-In-Training, First Class, at your service. I only hope they don’t think I know what I’m doing, because I certainly do not.

“Oh, it’s very simple just extremely complex,” grinned the cat.

“I’m afraid, yes, he’s correct,” Aloysius said and then gave a great sneeze.
Turning to see what the faeries made of all this, I noted that they appeared to be nodding in agreement. Though, I’d not a clue.

“If it were up, it would clearly be down,” began Fiddler.

“But if it were right, it would be equally as apparent to be left,” finished Aloysius.

“You’re confusing the poor girl. She is part human, you know,” and down swooped an Owly creature wearing a bright, swirly green and yellow witch’s hat.

“Hmm, I was wondering when you were going to turn up,” Fiddler said, still grinning, but now I could see a glint in his emerald eyes.

“Had to get the troops going, didn’t I? If someone doesn’t direct them, they’re bound to end up marching straight off a cliff.”

“Yes,” agreed the rabbit. “Wilbur’s quite right. No matter how many times we explain and no matter how many signs I post, they all seem to want to walk off cliffs. Bizarre behavior, even if they are lemmings.”
Somehow they all thought this was very funny. Everyone joined in on the laughter (even myself though I still hadn’t a clue what was what), everyone except Wilbur, who wore a dire expression on his Owly-Raven face. He addressed me,

“They’re lemmings, dear girl. That’s the joke.”

“Ah.” Though, I still felt a bit thick.

“As to Spring, we need your help calling out the Flora.”

“And the Fauna, don’t forget them,” Aloysius reminded, though it was apparent by the expression on Wilbur’s face a reminder was unnecessary.
Before another word could be exchanged between the two, Fiddler whisked Aloysius away to a new group of faeries that had just arrived and were gathering under a particularly striking pine,

“I do believe your attentions are required over here, Alo.”

“It’s a good deal Fiddler’s on the ball. We’re so very behind right now! If that one,” Wilbur rolled his eyes to the tall and elegant rabbit, “gets chocolate eggs to everyone on time this year without mixing them up with the jelly beans it really will be a miracle. And though our group excels at miracles, I still always have my doubts.”

“Yes, well, you never know.”
And then he gave me what I’m sure was a most rare occurrence, Wilbur smiled,

“Why yes. Exactly right.”
Feeling a bit like a star pupil in Miss Sally Sash’s Class, I smiled back.
Fiddler rejoined us,

“You can take care of the flowers, sweet lady.”
Please note: I’d rather my name didn’t get out, either (hence the “dear girl” and “sweet lady” etc etc). I still had no notion of what I would be doing I only hoped that they would eventually tell me. And tell me in a way that I would truly understand.

“It really is all very simple,” gruffed Wilbur with an eye roll to Fiddler.

“Yes, forgive me for teasing,” the cat said with a wink. “You only need to call the flowers. You know so many of them. It’s why we chose you for this task.”

“Call them?”

“Yes. You’ll come with us underground. Just picture each flower in your mind,” Wilbur stated.

“When we pass by their roots, they’ll know that it’s time,” Fiddler continued.
Huh. While I looked at the ground I thought that somehow it really didn’t sound “simple” to me. I was I going to fit in their tunnels? I’m a big, gawky part-human girl. Perhaps they forgot?

“Of course we haven’t forgotten,” Fiddler looped his silky, kitty appendage through my arm.

“And you’re not ‘gawky,’” Wilbur added firmly while grasping my other arm, his black feathers tickling, just slightly.

“Okay.”
We began walking together, alongside the river, strolling quite casually.

“The butterflies will be up soon and so will the bees. We’ll have to get going.” Fiddler said and with a nod Wilbur agreed. With that, no longer were we surrounded by blue sky and river and trees, nor even rocks and mushrooms and muck. We stood in a long, curvy cavern beneath all of that or at least this was my best guess. It was brown overhead, which I imagined was earth. Small tendrils, tender roots hung down here and there (mostly there). It was all rather weird, but in an odd way (which is always the best way), vaguely pretty, as well. ‘Ah,’ I thought, ‘so here are the roots we will talk to, while I picture them flowering.’
Under the ground, skipping through passages carved out in the dirt; through the remainder of that day and then through the night (though I really don’t know how long we took), all of us; Fiddler and Wilbur, Aloysius and the faeries and I worked very hard calling up plants and bees, butterflies, flowers, and brush. Letting them know it was time to get up.

“There are wondrous things to be seen and amazing adventures to be had! Wake up! Wake up!”
I like to sleep in, just as much as the next guy (or daisy), so I can’t say that I blamed those who gave the impression of being a bit reluctant to arise. But they did none-the-less.

Regardless that for a few sleepy bees and a couple of drowsy daisies it seemed like a chore, for most of the others it was truly a delight. Despite of or maybe because of their mood, even the sluggish ones all seemed to know it was time. The new and wondrous awaits and there are amazing adventures to be had, for it is Spring once again.

So…if ever you should be returning to your cottage in the forest and you happen to see a bunny, cat, or owl cross your path. Follow them into the woods. You won’t be disappointed.


Illustration “Calling Upon the Faeries” by Angelique Duncan.

Intricate Knot is proprietor of Cards For A Gloomy Day.Check out her artist page to find links to her shop and blog to read more of her writings. Visit again next month for more adventures of Fiddler the cat.

 

A Matter of Perception.

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A Matter of Perception.-By Debbi Decker

You walk into a room where a conversation is taking place about a recent ghost sighting. On the table there are several pictures, and your eyes immediately lock onto an old, creased and frayed picture of a woman taken during the early 1920s. You think to yourself, that’s the ghost she must be talking about.

But wait. As the story unfolds, you realize that the conversation is centered on another picture. A picture of a young man taken in the past year. A young man who passed away just a few months ago. The details are blurry, and really, you are not listening now to any of the conversation because your mind is adjusting to the shock of the fact that the ghost is not that of the 1920s woman. That picture was simply on the table because the owner was working on a family album.

It’s a matter of perception. A matter of the brain processing details that stand out or are out of place in the current environment. A matter of preconceived notions of what should or should not be. Someone walking down the street in jeans and a cowboy hat is not going to startle you. But someone walking down the street in a pin-stripe suit and a bowler hat will give you pause. That person is out of context, out of the realm of what is perceived to be the present norm. A ghostly apparition? No. The person in the pin-stripe suit and bowler hat is on their way to a costume party. The person in jeans and a cowboy hat? That was the ghost. You might even have felt something off about that person as you passed them by. But, given the context of when and where you saw this apparition, and the modernity of the dress, you probably passed off the “something” you felt as a normal reaction. You don’t like cowboy hats. Maybe the jeans were not to your taste. You gave yourself normal explanations for the fact that you felt that “something”.

Ghosts are not always see-through apparitions, grey misty beings floating three feet off the floor and passing through walls. Ghosts can look just like you and me. We hear stories all the time of the recently passed coming to visit their relatives and loved ones. So, if those ghostly visits are given recognition and consideration, why not the possibility that at any time and in any place, you might just have walked by a ghost?

The next time you are out and about, and you feel a little tingle and the hair rises on your arms, take note. That little old lady you just passed by, walking her dog in that pretty flowered dress… Could it be?

Debbie Decker is proprietor of twistedpixelstudio Art & Assemblage Emporium. Check out her artist page to find links to her shop and blog to read more of her writings. Visit again next month for the telling of hauntings and ghostly tales by Debbie Decker.

The Rabbit and the Eggs

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The Rabbit and the Eggs-By Angelique Duncan

Wonderful Enchanted Springtime! Finally the sun and warmth make their appearance after the long slumber of winter. Everything is born again as green and colors emerge from the earthen garden. Celebrations for spring and her Equinox commence as Easter and Oestara announce the arrival of the Easter Bunny, also known as the rabbit Oshter Haws, bringing the gift of colored eggs.

The modern practice and symbolism of “Easter” eggs has existed for many centuries in varying cultures as far back as the Egyptians and Mediterraneans. Throughout time the practice of painting and giving decorative eggs has, for the most part, remained intact in observance. However the interpretive meaning behind the symbolism of eggs has changed. The appearance of painted eggs, or pysanka as they have been named in the Ukraine, at or near the Vernal Equinox is a deep-rooted tradition in many cultures yet has for the most part held the same meaning. Eggs have been used as symbols of rebirth and renewal. In pre-Christian cultures this renewal and rebirth was in celebration of the coming of spring and the renewal of life that occurred in nature. For many Pagan cultures the process of decorating the egg was a ritual and rite of Spring celebration. It was believed that the eggs were endowed with talisman or magical power through prayer and meditation. It was believed the eggs could ward off evil spirits, guarantee a good harvest and bring a person good luck. These meditations passed into the eggs a wish that the recipient would receive protection from harm as well as good fortune and a message of well-being, happiness and joy. With the rise of Christianity the amulet properties of painted eggs was shed and the emphasis of rebirth of nature was shifted to the renewal and redemption of souls through Christ and the resurrection. However the springtime images have remained a prominent theme to most ornamented eggs.

The Easter Rabbit or once named in Germanic culture “Oschter Haws” meaning magical hare was brought to the United States by the Deutsch. The Easter Bunny has his origins as a symbol of renewal of life and fertility in nature. Many believed the rabbit would bring the decorated eggs to well deserving children as rewards in the form of tokens of good fortune for the upcoming year. The Easter rabbit was once revered as a powerful symbol to promote life and fertility for crops, families and livestock. It was believed the hare, being the most prolific in its reproduction during spring, was the most endowed of animals in the process of life renewal from winter to spring. As with the Egg, the Rabbits symbolism was transferred to a more Christian interpretation as Christianity spread and the practice of nature religions declined. The once important fertility symbol of the robust rabbit hare began to lean towards that of the sweet young bunny and became a symbol of the sacrifice Christ made for innocence and the emphasis was less on the rabbits breeding ability and shifted its representation to the “new life” given to the world by Christ. Many non-Christians “accepted” the Christian meaning given to their spring symbols in an effort to preserve pieces of their culture and continue some form of their spiritual practices.

The legend of the magical Oschter Haws or Easter Bunny who delivers enchanted painted eggs under the cover of darkness before sunrise still remains all these centuries later. When you wake up and find those colorful eggs that appeared in your yard early Easter morn and your enjoying those colorfully wrapped chocolates count yourself lucky, for Oschter Haws deemed you deserving of good fortune and delivered for you talismans of springtime protection.

Angelique Duncan is proprietor of Twilight Faerie Nostalgic and Capricious Objects. Check out her artist page to find links to her shops and vintage inspired traditional holiday art. Visit again next month for more traditions and folklore.

Easter Hares and Springtime Scares Give Away!

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The Easter Hares and Springtime Scares Give Away has concluded!

A winner has been chosen! The winner of the special edition Easter basket will be contacted via email.

Congratulations to our winner Karen Propes!

Thank you to all who entered the give away. We appreciate you taking time to stop by and participate in the Easter festivities. We wish every one a wondrous and happy Springtime!

Official Rules of entry:

Must complete all three steps to be eligible to win. Entry deadline is Midnight on March 25th 2013. The Winner will be chosen at random. One entry per person. Winner will be notified via email. The prize will ship on March 26th 2013. The winners name will be posted on the Halloween Artist Bazaar website and Facebook page. Members of Halloween Artist Bazaar are not qualified for entry. Contest open internationally, however please note that prize may not arrive before March 31st for Easter due to international shipping times.* your countries custom charges may apply. *

Contributing Halloween Artist Bazaar Artists:(check back as the list grows and photo’s of the winnings are posted!)
Twilight Faerie
twistedpixelstudio
Jan’s Beads
Ghastly Governess
Chaos In Color
Shrine Maiden
Tocsin Design
Intricate Knot
Moonspell Crafts
Corn on Macabre
The Painted Peep Show
Pamela Van Schijndel

Coming soon…
Ghost Gap
Art By Sarada
Charming GeeksNGoths

The Ghostly President Lincoln

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The Ghostly President Lincoln?-By Robyn Madison

Lincoln, the recent movie by Steven Spielberg, has sparked much renewed interest in me about the 16th President of the United States. I’ve always found Mr. Lincoln to be a bit spooky – his intense and heavy countenance, his wife Mary’s obsession with spiritualism, his assassination, the numerous reports of sightings of his ghost.

Abraham Lincoln has always been described as a depressive person even before becoming President in 1861, very serious and even gloomy. His mother died when he was very young which may have accounted for some of that. Of course the extreme stress he was under because of the country being at Civil War, sparked by the question of slavery and with its massive losses of life, would make anyone gloomy, I suspect. And this is not to mention the death of the Lincoln’s beloved youngest son Willie in 1862. Although Lincoln lived long enough to see the end of the War on April 9, 1865 in his second term as President, his life was cut short by assassin John Wilkes Booth just days later on April 14th.

It is said that Lincoln himself had not only a prophetic dream of his own death shortly before the assassination, but also had a disturbing vision on the eve of his election in 1860 and several times after, that Mary Lincoln interpreted to be prophetic of his death in his second term. He purportedly took some part in the grieving Mary’s attempts to contact their little son Willie after his death through séances, and there are historic records of many spiritualists of the time visiting the White House.

The first widely reported sighting of Lincoln’s ghost in the White House was apparently First Lady Grace Coolidge in the 1920’s, who claimed to have witnessed the figure of Lincoln staring out the windows of the Oval Office. First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt used the Lincoln Bedroom as her study and claimed to have sensed his spirit nearby on numerous occasions. It was also during Franklin Roosevelt’s presidency, another time of war and upheaval for the United States, that visiting Queen Wilhemina of the Netherlands answered a knock at her door only to faint away at the sight of Lincoln’s ghost standing there in his stovepipe hat, and Sir Winston Churchill emerged naked from his bath save for his customary cigar, to witness Lincoln’s ghost standing by the bedroom fire and would never again stay in that room. In more recent times, First Daughter Maureen Reagan and her husband each saw Lincoln’s apparition, and both Nancy Reagan and Hilary Clinton felt his presence in the house.

There have been reports of sightings of a ghost train – the train that bore President Lincoln’s body from Washington DC to Springfield, Illinois – at the train station in Albany, NY during the month of April as well as at other sites along the funeral cortege’s 1700-mile journey. Lincoln’s ghost was said to have been seen near his tomb in Illinois at times. If there is any truth to the idea that disturbing someone’s eternal rest stirs up a haunting, well, it is more likely than not that his ghost was seen, as Lincoln’s body was moved an astounding total of 17 times. Rebuilding of the tomb monument and attempted grave robbing accounted for some of the moves, while it seems paranoia prompted the others. During several of those moves, a hole was cut in the coffin for a secret society of tomb guards to check if Mr. Lincoln was still in there. That old joke about “who is buried in Grant’s Tomb” comes to mind.

But poor Mr. Lincoln…the great man has had no rest, it seems. Perhaps he still seeks to watch over the country he feared would be split apart during his lifetime. Perhaps the burdens he carried were so great as to be impossible to put down and so his spirit still wanders the earth. Or more hopefully, it’s only that his seeming presence still lingers as a residual trace of tumultuous times.

Robyn is proprietor of Shrine Maiden. Check out her artist page to find links to her shop.