Fantastic Dreams of Pamela K. Kinney

Supernatural Friday: The Sorcerous FinFolk

2012-01-27T09:29:00.000-08:00

You heard of mermaids and mermen. You heard of selkies. Have you ever heard of the sorcerous finmen? Few people have. But yet, they are beings of the sea as are mermaids, mermen and selkies. In fact, in stories told, it is said the Finwike began life as a mermaid.
Their myth comes from the Orkney Islands. The story goes that they are mistrusted by mortals and have magic. That they have unparallel boating skills, as well power over storm and sea. These beings are also noted shapeshifters.
Unlike the selkies (as in some tales), there were times they could come ashore. The Finfolk were truly amphibious. The Finfolk led a nomadic lifestyle, but spent long Orkney winters in the luxury of Finfolkaheem, a majestic city of unknown location, spposed to be at the bottom of the sea. The tales of storytellers tell that this fantastic undersea kingdom has massive crystal halls and ornate gardens of multi-coloured seaweed. Lit by the phosphorescent glow of the sea, Finfolkaheem was decorated with swathes of draped curtains whose colours shifted like the ever-changing shades of the "Merry Dancers" - the Aurora Borealis. Towers of glistening white coral spiralled upwards, encrusted with pearls and precious gemstones. The kingdom was so rich that giant pearls were littered everywhere, often ground up by the merfolk to provide the powder that was scattered over the mermaids' tails to give them their sparkling sheen. In the waters surrounding Finfolkaheem, the Finfolk raised sea-cattle and magical sea-horses. Like the true gentry of their underwater world, they herded whales - from which they extracted milk - and, mounted on their aquatic steeds, would often hunt the animals of the sea using otters in place of dogs.
During summertime, the Finfolk returned to Orkney. It is there that they took up residence on their magical island home, Hildaland - one of Orkney's magical vanishing islands. it has been said that Hildaland was later taken from the Finfolk and renamed Eynhallow.
Two distinct pf these kind of fairyfolk are within the ranks of the Finfolk - the Finman and the Finwife. Though tales of the Finmen make up most of the bulk of the folklore and are fairly standard in their descriptions of the gloomy creatures.
Like fairies of the land on the Orkney Islands, they also steral away mortals. Once caught, they spirit away their captives and transport them to their hidden island homes. It in these places that the unfortunate mortals are forced to remain for the rest of their days, usually as wife or husband of one of the Finfolk.

Finwife:
While the Finman actively shunns contact with mortals - unless needs to for his purpose - the Finwife was more involved with her human neighbours. As a child of the Finfolk, the Finwife begins life as a mermaid - beautiful with long, glistening fish tail. If the young mermaid marries a Finman - a fate that awaited her if she did not acquire a mortal huband - she became uglier an d uglier, eventually becoming a haggard Finwife.
Tradition dictates that these Finwives went to shore and used her magic to earn precious silver for her husband. Once settled on land, she told her neighbours she was of Caithness origin - in other words not Orcadian. She pretended to earn a living by spinning and knitting. Also the Finwife was renowned for her skill in curing diseases in men and cattle, so it did not take long for her to become an invaluable member of the community. After that happened, she began to practice her "infernal arts.",Meanwhile, she sent the silver coins she earned back to her avaricious husband beneath the waves. If the supply of "white metal" came sparingly or was delayed at any time, the unfortunate Finwife could expect a visit from her Finman husband. She did not want this, for when he came he would beat her so bad that the witch became confined to bed for days. A curious parallel to witch tales from other cultures is that the Finwife was said to keep a black cat, but there the similarity ends, as the Finwife's cat had the ability to transform into a fish so it could carry messages between its mistress and her relatives in Finfolkaheem.

Finman:

All Orkney Finmen carried the appearance of a well-made man, tall, dark, thin and sinewy, but with a stern, gloomy face. His rowing skills were unparalleled, making it easy for him to cross from Orkney to Norway, or Iceland, in seven "warts", or strokes, of the oar.
They were often seen rowing in a small boat, without a sail. The Finmen didn't need one, for they used their powerful magic to propel their boats. This magic also allowed the Finman to turn his vessel invisible, or even surround it with a fleet of phantom boats.
Very territorial, the Finfolk took great exception to humans trespassing, or fishing, in their waters. Whenever a mortal fisherman dared enter their domain, the Finmen seized the man's line and kept hold of it until the line broke. Without a hook and sinker, the fisherman couldn't earn a living until new tackle was acquired. Other times, the Finmen waited until the fisherman had returned home and had put his boat to anchor. They slip off the anchor stone, and the vessel drifted free to the perils of tide and current.
In the dead of night, marauding Finmen wreaked extreme vengeance on fishermen, too. They either smashed the oars of the fisherman's boat or made a hole in the vessel's bottom. These would cost the impertinent fisherman his life at a later date. What the firshermen did was cut a cross into the line sinker and marked with chalk or tar on the hull of the boat, ensuring that no Finman would come within half a mile. Another way to shake a pursuing Finman would be by throwing a silver coin in his general direction. Because of their passion for silver, the pursuer gave up the chase so he could retrieve the precious coin. This silver obsession meant that the Finmen were often seen to enter the service of a human, but more often they were the ones who hired the mortals.No doubt, the Finfolk's malevolent influence could have been used to explain away the many disappearances and deaths at sea. Christianity is blamed for the disappearance of Finfolk stories. Though the influence of the Finman and his kin was feared right through until at least the end of the nineteenth century.

WEIRD WEDNESDAY

2012-01-24T18:03:00.000-08:00

Is this the same cat, or are they fooling us with a second kitty? Still weird.

Supernatural Friday: Legends, Myths, Folklore and Urban Legends

2012-01-20T07:02:00.000-08:00

A legend (Latin, legenda, "things to be read") is a narrative of human actions told about someone that existed in reality, once upon a time, but the true events have been twisted, making them more fascinating. Legend includes no happenings that are outside the realm of "possibility,” defined by a highly flexible set of parameters. These may include miracles that are perceived as actually having happened. There is the specific tradition of indoctrination where the legend arose, and in which the tale may be transformed over time, in order to keep it fresh, vital, and realistic. It is kinda like that game you played with your classmates in school, where you whisper to the next person a story, and by the time it comes full circle, that story has changed drastically from what it began as.

A myth is a sacred or traditional story that concerns the origins of the world or how the world and the creatures in it came to be in their present form. Myths serves to unfold a part of the world view of a people, or explain a practice, belief, or natural phenomenon. Parables and allegories are myths. Nothing is supposed to be real about it at all, even if someone mentioned in the story is a real person. There are stories told about their habits or life that are not true.

Folklore is the traditional beliefs, myths, tales, and practices of a people, transmitted orally. It is popular, but unfounded beliefs. Or, as Merriam-Webster says: “traditional customs, tales, sayings, dances, or art forms preserved among a people.”

The flavor of people and their culture, all interwove with day to day life when settlers came to the New World. They brought with them their folk tales and beliefs, and founded new ones in the new country. Some old stories mutated into different ones. There were older tales told by the Native Americans who were already living in the New World before the white man came. Then, when slaves were brought to the New World, they brought with them tales from Africa and changed them, molding them to fit their new home.

Today, in modern times, we continue this with urban legends. Who hasn’t heard of the killer with the hook in lover’s lane? Or who hasn’t said, “Bloody Mary” while staring into the mirror, hoping to make a ghost appear? There’s the hitchhiking woman dressed in an evening gown that is picked up and climbs into the back seat, giving directions to an address to the driver. Once they arrive at the house, though, the driver discovers that she has mysteriously disappeared. When he goes to the door, he is told that his hitchhiker is the daughter of the owner of the house, who had been killed just after she left a party several years before, never making it home. But stories like the hitchhiking ghost existed long before they ended up as urban legends. I know I’ve read stories when it was a buggy or wagon being driven, not a car. So how many urban legends started as folk tales from all over the world?

Many of the legends and folk tales told by our ancestors have some kind of moral attached to them. These may be warnings. Watch your womenfolk and children, so that marauding Indians could not kidnap them. Don’t dare approach some old woman living in the woods for a much needed potion to rid one of an unwanted pregnancy, for she may conjure a spell and convince you to crawl into her oven to be cooked.

To learn about legends, myths, folklore, and urban legends of Virginia, BUY THIS BOOK

WEIRD WEDNESDAY

2012-01-18T09:20:00.000-08:00

The newest fashion for those who want to be sure to have toilet paper for those restrooms that don't have any. Plus ready at hand to blow one's nose.

Supernatural Friday: Angels--Non-Christian—Part 2

2012-01-11T18:44:00.000-08:00

Since I will be out of town at Marscon, getting Part 2 of Supernatural Friday: Angel-Non-Christian now. Enjoy.

Angels are depicted in other religions too, not just the Christian ones. Christian angles came down from the Hebrew Bible. Like in Christian terms, the Hebrews also considered them messengers of God, or Yahweh. Descriptions of cherubim and seraphim (the chayot in Ezekiel's Merkabah vision and the Seraphim of Isaiah) in the Hebrew Bible have them with wings. However, while cherubim and seraphim have wings in the Bible, no angel is mentioned as having wings.

The term "angel" has also been expanded to various notions of spiritual beings found in many other religious traditions. Other roles of angels include protecting and guiding human beings, and carrying out God's tasks

The Bible uses the terms מלאך אלהים (mal'akh Elohim;; messenger of God), מלאך יהוה (mal'akh YHWH; messenger of the Lord), בני אלהים (b'nai Elohim; sons of God) and הקודשים (ha-qodeshim; the holy ones) to refer to beings traditionally interpreted as angels. Later texts use other terms, such as העליונים (ha'elyoneem; the upper ones).

Daniel is the first biblical figure who referred individual angels by name. Like Gabriel (God's primary messenger) in Daniel 9:21, and Michael (the holy fighter) in Daniel 10:13. These angels are part of Daniel's apocalyptic visions and are an important part of all apocalyptic literature.

Angels are best understood in contrast to demons—influenced by the ancient Persian religious tradition of Zoroastrianism. Zoroastrianism viewed the world as a battleground between forces of good and forces of evil, between light and darkness. One of these sons of God being "Satan/Lucifer", depicted in the Book of Job, besides other places.

In post-Biblical Judaism, certain angels took on particular significance, developing unique personalities and roles. Though these archangels were believed to rank among the heavenly host, there appeared to be no systematic hierarchy developed. Metatron is considered one of the highest of the angels in Merkabah and Kabbalist mysticism. He often serves as a scribe. Briefly mentioned in the Talmud, he figures prominently in Merkabah mystical texts. Michael serves as a warrior and advocate for Israel (Daniel 10:13). Gabriel is mentioned in the Book of Daniel (Daniel 8:15–17), the Book of Tobit, and briefly in the Talmud, as well as in many Merkabah mystical texts. Though no evidence in Judaism for the worship of angels, there is evidence for the invocation and sometimes even conjuration of angels.

According to Kabalah, there are four worlds and our world is the last world: the world of action (Assiyah). Angels exist in the worlds above as a 'task' of God, an extension of God to produce effects in this world. When angel completes its task, it ceases to exist. This is derived from the book of Genesis when Abraham meets with three angels and Lot meets two of them. The task of one of the angels was to inform Abraham of his coming child. The other two were to save Lot, and to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, too.

Angels and their tasks:

Malachim (translation: messengers), general word for angel.

Michael (translation: who is like God?), performs acts of justice and power.

Gabriel (translation: the strength of God), performs God's kindness.

Raphael (translation: God Heals), God's healing force.

Uriel (translation: God is my light), leads us to destiny.

Seraphim (translation: the burning ones), sing and praise God.

Malach HaMavet (translation: the angel of death).

Satan (translation: the adversary), brings people's sins before them in the heavenly court.

Chayot HaKodesh (translation: living beings).

Ophanim (translation: arbits) Guardians of the Throne of God.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) also view angels as the messengers of God. That angels were sent to mankind to deliver messages, minister to humanity, teach doctrines of salvation, call mankind to repentance, give priesthood keys, save individuals in perilous times, and guide humankind.

Latter Day Saints believe that angels are the spirits of humans who are deceased or who have yet to be born. Joseph Smith has taught that "there are no angels who minister to this earth but those that do belong or have belonged to it." Latter Day Saints also believe that Adam (the first man) became the archangel Michael, and that Gabriel had lived as Noah. Likewise the Angel Moroni first lived in a pre-Columbian American civilization as the 5th-century prophet-warrior named Moroni. Angels are typically depicted in Mormon art as having no wings, based on a quote from Joseph Smith that "An angel of God never has wings.”

Angels (Arabic: ملائكة , Malāʾikah; Turkish: Melek) are mentioned many times in the Qur'an and Hadith. Islam makes it clear on the nature of angels in that they are messengers of God, with no free will and only do what God orders them to do. One of these tasks is testing individuals by granting them abundant wealth and curing their illness. Believing in angels is one of the six Articles of Faith in Islam.

In his Book of Certitude Bahá’u’lláh, founder of the Bahá’í Faith, describes angels as people who ‘have consumed, with the fire of the love of God, all human traits and limitations’, and have ‘clothed themselves’ with angelic attributes and have become ‘endowed with the attributes of the spiritual’. He describes angels as the ‘confirmations of God and His celestial powers. Also as blessed beings who have severed all ties with this nether world. They have been released from the chains of self, and are revealers of God’s abounding grace. The Bahá’í writings also refer to the Concourse on High, an angelic host, and the Maid of Heaven of Bahá’u’lláh's vision.

Zoroastrianism says there are different angel-like figures. Each person has one guardian angel, called Fravashi. They patronize human beings and other creatures. Plus they also manifest God’s energy. The Amesha Spentas have often been regarded as angels. Although there is no direct reference to them conveying messages, they are also considered rather emanations of Ahura Mazda ("Wise Lord", God). They appear in an abstract fashion and then later became personalized, associated with diverse aspects of the divine creation.

Indian religions:
The Hindus’ deva is sometimes translated by Orientalists (erroneously) as "angel" (besides "god" or "deity"). But a deva is not an angel; actually it is personified a natural element with manifestation in physical realms.

References to angelic or divine deities in Sikhism are the focus on the liberation of the soul and ultimately joining with Waheguru in this religion. In early scriptures written by Guru Nanak Dev Ji, it points out that heavenly deities help in the judgment of the soul.

Azrael (as Azraa-eel) is named as the angel of death in the Guru Granth Sahib, the Holy Scripture and the final Guru of the Sikhs. So Dar and Raag Asa Sat Guru Nanak mentions clearly two beings as Chitar and Gupat, both of whom record the deeds of men. These Angels assigned with this Divine task by the Creator. Chitar records the deeds that are visible to all and Gupat records that which is hidden in thought or secret action. Their names themselves allude to the tasks which the All Mighty has bestowed upon them. They are often seen at the gates of heaven, dressed in the most adorned and decorated gowns, holding the records on the actions and feelings of the soul in the line for judgment.

In the Brahma Kumaris religion, every member becomes an angel of light (faristha in Hindi). Founder Dada Lekhraj is said to already become the perfect man and angel Brahma through practice of Raja Yoga.

WEIRD WEDNESDAY

2012-01-10T17:58:00.001-08:00

This weird hotel is the Capsule Inn in Osaka, Japan. The room just consists of a small capsule, with about 2m x 1m x 1.25m area. The capsules are stacked on top of each other, and each one has TV, bed, and a wireless Internet connection. Cozy accommodations.

Supernatural Friday: Angels-Part 1

2012-01-06T07:36:00.000-08:00

In 2011 I blogged about demons. Today, for the first Supernatural Friday of the year, it will be about angels. That's not to say I won't talk about Lucifer/Satan or any of his dark angel followers, which are demons, as they too, are angels. Today's subject will be angels in Christianity. Check back next week, for angels in other religions.

Angels in Christianity are pure spirits created by God. The Old Testament theology included the belief in angels: the name applied to certain spiritual beings or intelligences of heavenly residence, employed by God as the ministers of His will.

The Hebrew and Greek words for angel originally meant messenger. Depending on the context, it could refer either to a human messenger (possibly a prophet or priest, such as Malachi, "my messenger", but also for more mundane characters, as in the Greek superscription that the Book of Malachi was written "by the hand of his messenger" or to a supernatural messenger, such as the "Mal'akh YHWH," who is either a messenger from God, an aspect of God (such as the Logos), or God Himself as the messenger (the "theophanic angel.") The prophet Malachi took his name from this word, as he was supposed to be a messenger, and he prophesied about the coming of "the messenger of the covenant", Jesus Christ (Malachi 3:1).

The theological study of angels is known as angelology. In art, angels are often depicted with wings; perhaps reflecting the descriptions in Revelation 4:6-8 -- of the Four Living Creatures (τὰ τέσσαρα ζῷα) and the descriptions in the Hebrew Bible—of cherubim and seraphim (the chayot in Ezekiel's Merkabah vision and the Seraphim of Isaiah). However, while cherubim and seraphim have wings in the Bible, no angel is mentioned as having wings. Philosophically, angels are "pure contingent spirits.

Besides Dominionations, Thrones, and Archangels, the Old Testament specifically mentions two others, Seraphim and Cherubim. It was said that God bestowed upon angels great wisdom, freedom, and power. Both the New Testament and Old Testament refer also to the fallen angels. The Temptation of Adam and Eve presupposes the existence of bad spirits or demons who were cast into Hell from which they have no hope of redemption. And yet, they have been said to try to tempt us, seducing us to do wicked deeds.

In Christianity, angels are said to be spiritual or bodiless persons. These spiritual beings comprise the celestial court and according to the Bible, they carry out missions at God's command. In order to complete these missions, they have at times assume bodily form. According to the Bible, their missions are sometimes of great importance. Unlike us, they are non-bodily creatures, their response to God's love did not require time and reflection to grow and mature, so they can respond to God with love and bliss.
Jesus Christ was reported saying that angels (children or "sons" of God) live forever and are of one gender. Supposecly, so that those called "sons and daughters" (humankind?) of God when he returned will be allowed to live forever and not marry. "They which shall be accounted worthy to obtain that world, and the resurrection from the dead, neither marry, nor are given in marriage: neither can they die any more: for they are equal unto the angels; and are the children of God. being the children of the resurrection." (Luke 20:35.36)

There were angels in Christianity, are said that because of their pride, did not return God's love. God did not destroy them, but put them in the pit, or Hell. These are the Fallen Angel, or demons or dark angels. The head of these was Lucifer, or sometimes called Satan.

Only occasionally are angels given names. Michael, the archangel, was "the great prince which standeth for the children of thy people (Israel)" (Daniel 12:1). Of the most significant of angelic appearances, came from the angel named Gabriel. He was sent twice to the prophet Daniel. On the second occasion Daniel was at prayer, and Gabriel, "being caused to fly swiftly, touched me ... and talked with me" and proceeded to prophesy the date of the first coming of the Messiah, Jesus Christ (Daniel 9:21-27). Gabriel appeared again, first to Zacharias, the priest while on duty in the temple, and six months later to Mary, Jesus' mother. The angel proclaimed to Zacharias, "I am Gabriel, that stand in the presence of God: and am sent to speak unto thee" (Luke 1:19). His mission tp Zacharias was to announce the miraculous birth of John the Baptist. Gabriel told Mary that she had found favour with God, and she would be the mother of the expected Messiah. Gabriel told her that she would conceive through the power of the Holy Spirit and her son would be Jesus, the Saviour, and he would be the Son of God and would occupy the royal throne of David (Luke 1:26-33). Joseph, her husband-to-be, also received angelic messages advising him what he must do in this unique situation, since he and Mary were not married at the time but betrothed and he, of course, was not her unborn child's father.

Identification of archangels, besides Gabriel and Michael also include Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Remiel and Saraqael. While this today is non-canonical in most Christian Churches, these angels' names were quoted in the New Testament and by many of the early Church Fathers. Many Christians regard angels and archangels as asexual, not belonging to either gender. And yet, angels are on the other hand have been described as looking like male human beings, hence the masculine names. Although angels have greater knowledge than men, they are not omniscient, as Matthew 24:36 points out in the Bible.

Weird Wednesday

2012-01-04T06:17:00.000-08:00

Check out this weird hotel for Weird Wednesday. It's the Crazy House Hotel, or Hang Nga Guesthouse in Vietnam.

Join Me at Marscon in Williamsburg, Va. Jan. 13-15th

2012-01-03T06:22:00.000-08:00

I'll be at Marscon next week as a writer guest, but it's always a great little convention to go as a fan. This year, they have a theme of the end of the world, thanks to those Mayans and their prediction.

It will be held at the Holiday Inn Patriot, 3032 Richmond Rd. (Rt. 60) Williamsburg, VA 23185, January 13, 14, and 15. besides at door price for all weekend, there will be day rates. Check back next week for these: Registration . For all the guests, including the Guests of Honor: GUESTS

My Panels

As Pamela K. Kinney:
Friday, Jan. 13th 10 pm to 11pm: Ghosts and Legends of Southeastern Virginia (Room 103)

A panel of paranormal perfection with the well-spooken trio of Pamela K. Kinney, Cheralyn Lambeth and Kathryn Lively.
Autograph Armageddon (Patriot Ballroom)

Saturday, Jan. 14th 1pm to 3pm: Indulge your inner fan and get signatures from MarsCon’s fantastic 2012 lineup of authors. Hear them read samples of their work while you wait in line. Join GOH S. M. Stirling and many other MarsCon authors for two hours of our featured signing event. Last line entry 2:45 p.m., limit of 3 signatures per pass through line for GOH. With Chris Berman, Danny Birt, Keith DeCandido, Andrew Fox, Pamela K. Kinney, James Mascia, Peter Prellwitz, Marina Sergeyeva, Steve White, and Leona Wisoker.

As Sapphire Phelan (must be 18 and older to attend these):
Friday, Jan. 13th-Midnight to 1am: Zombies in Love: Is There a Way to Write a Sexy Story about Our Friend the Zombie? (Richardson Board Room)

Can the deadest of the undead be hot or not? Do you need a brain to be sexy? And does that brain have to be fresh? Join panelists Kathryn Lively, and Sapphire Phelan as they explore how writers can combine zombies with romance and erotica.
Adult Programming: Author Reading (Richardson Board Room)

Saturday, Jan. 14th-Midnight to 1am: Spend an erotic hour with authors Helen E.H. Madden, Kathryn Lively, Michael O’Brien, and Sapphire Phelan as they read from their latest work. Adult Programming: Under 18-year-olds not allowed.

On the rest of the panels the weekend: Programs .

Interviewing Owner of Story Edits, an Editing Business

2012-01-01T18:10:00.000-08:00

Today, my guest is Pam Roller, who started up a business, Story Edits, where she can help those writers make their manuscripts be the best they can be. Check out her answers as I interview her. And do leave her a comment if you have a question.

Thanks for inviting me to be a guest, Pam.

1.) Why Story Edits?

With the changing publishing market, more and more authors are choosing to self-publish. The rush to get the book on the market without having to wait months or even years for a publisher to move along with it can be exhilarating. With self-publishing, the author takes complete control and a finished book can be put up for sale almost immediately.

However, the heady rush of seeing one’s book out there for sale can be overshadowed by writing that could be better. If a book is not edited well, it can get chewed up in reviews. Bad reviews can slow or even kill an author’s career. The author may lose readership, credibility, and money.

If the author is going the traditional publishing route, the manuscript needs to be in the same great shape as it would be if it is edited for self-publishing. All publishers, not just the “big six,” are extremely picky. Agents and publishers will look for any excuse to reject the work. Why not get the manuscript professionally edited before sending it out?

My main reason for launching Story Edits has to do with self-publishing, which is becoming the popular route for many romance authors. I want to see well-written books on the market. Authors who put up unedited, poor quality books bring down the reputation of all indie romance authors in general. On a side note, IndieRomanceInk on Yahoo.com is a wonderfully informative group for self-publishing authors.

2.) What are your qualifications?

Since I know romance, I edit romance. I’m published in romance fiction, have twenty years of experience as a writer, twelve years as an English teacher, and over two years as a former senior editor for a well-known, award-winning romance epublisher.

But if I’m a good writer, why should I have my work edited professionally?

Many authors are excellent wordsmiths or are leery of having their work edited by a stranger, but doing so welcomes a completely objective process. If I am reading an author’s work for the first time, I’ll catch things that the author missed. I have no interest in changing the author’s voice or intent, but instead I offer suggestions for continuity in plot, characterization, and structure as well as catch errors in grammar and punctuation.

While I cannot guarantee an author’s book will be a bestseller, I can help make it the best it can be. From an intense line edit to that final tweak and polish, I can help. And please note that Story Edits is not affiliated with any publishing house or agency. My only interest is the author and her manuscript.

I work with authors in all areas of romance: historical, erotica, contemporary, sweet, futuristic, fantasy, paranormal, time-travel, mystery, suspense, etc.

3.) How much does it cost?
I don’t charge by the hour because self-publishing romance authors need a tangible price in order to budget for editing, formatting, cover, promotion, etc. My price is 1½ cents per word (multiply word count by .015). This price includes two complete edits of your manuscript, before and after your revision.
All work is done electronically. The manuscript should be complete and ready for editing.

If anyone has questions, feel free to write me at storyedits@gmail.com or visit Story Edits.

Pamela, thanks again for having me guest on your blog.

Happy New Year: I Was Paranormal Investigating for New Year's Eve!

2012-01-01T13:28:00.000-08:00

(Photos and video are copyrighted by Pamela K. Kinney, so please do not copy them offsite to yours without permission. Do share this link though to your friends)

While most people were going to parties at friends' and relatives' homes or to bars and cocktail lounges to celebrate the new year in, I drove to Charles City, Virginia on New Year's Eve 2011 to Edgewood Bed and Breakfast. There would be a paranormal investigation that night. While millions watched the ball drop at Times Square on television, I and the others took a break to toast each other with champagne or sparking cider, before using one last half hour to investigate, before closing up and taking off at 1 p.m. for our homes or rooms rented out to those staying the night.

I'd been to the bed and breakfast in September 2009 to interview Dot Boulware about their place and its haunting, particularly by Lizzie Rowland, for Virginia's Haunted Historic Triangle: Williamsburg, Yorktown, Jamestown, and Other Haunted Locations. At that time, using my digital recorder to record our interview and maybe to capture some EVPs, plus taking pictures, I never got anything. Last night, was different (at least the pictures, as I still have to upload the recordings and listen to them). I did video too, and least showed on them at one point, the constant lights flashing on my EMF meter , which happened at all the places we visited except in the Tavern downstairs and the first time on the third floor.

Edgewood had been part of Berkeley once. Benjamin Harrison had gone to King Carter of Shirley and asked if he could purchase some land for a mill. He ended up buying 22,000 acres. In 1725, he built the grist mill. It was so successful, that he built Berkeley Plantation in 1726. During the Revolutionary War, Benedict Arnold visited here, too. The Harrison slaves lives in their cabins on the land and worked the mill.

But in 1840, maybe due to need for money, 1,800 acres and the mill were sold to a Yankee from New Jersey, Spencer Rowland. All was so well that Spencer built the house. He moved into it with his wife and daughter, Elizabeth (this was Lizzie).

When everyone had arrived who was coming, Dot took all on tour of the place, telling what happened to her (same she told me at the interview, that is now in the chapter in my book). Team members of Ghost Eyes who set this whole cool event up had heard the stories before so they sat out in the parlor.

And since I heard it before and I wanted to do some investigating on my own, I wandered into the dining room, the room off of that, and upstairs on the second and third floors. I turned on my digital recorder and took pictures and did a couple of video down in the dining room. I also took my EMF meter which nothing happened, especially in the third floor thought the area was freezing and I didn't feel alone. The third floor bothered me, unlike the rest of the house. I had been up there in 2009 when Dot showed me around, but unlike then, it was hard staying there. At one point, my throat tightened and I could heard the pulse pounding, boom, boom, boom. Suddenly, the cold left and I grew warm again and the throat released, the pulse no longer in my ears. I didn't feel like something was there anymore and I got off the small sofa and left the floor to head downstairs. One of the pictures I took at the doorway before entering the floor actually went dark, though the flash went off. I've been told when that happens that it's a sign of a presence usually.

Dot had finished with the tour and most of us split up into no more than five together. I joined Carol, head of Richmond Paranormal Society, and Luke. We wanted to do the third floor, but another group had beat us, so we settled for the second floor, since it seemed no one else were doing it. We didn't do Lizzie's room, as Carol's husband, Stewart, was in there. We shut the door and turned off all lights. The first room we investigated was the one to the left of Lizzie's. Suitcases of some planning to stay the night there later stood on the floor. We turned off the lights, including the tree in the room, and shut the door. I set out my EMF meter turned on, my recorder and my LED flashlight, which had acted weird, flickering. I had never seen it do that before. Later, at one point in our investigation, Luke thought the batteries were dying. But after the last time the flashlight did this, it never did, and even today, no flickering. Whatever spirit (or was it more than one?), had done this.

By the EMF meter, my ghost box and Carol's Oblique, we tried to communicate with it. We also did this in the bedroom across the hallway, where there I used my drowsing rods. In our communication the spirit mentioned it stood behind Carol, and Luke thought he had saw the curtains at the window move. Though he still wasn't sure if saw it for sure or not.

We finally climbed up the stairs to the third floor where my EMF meter's lights began flashing in sequences. It did ten times for all lights, then stopped, changing to another variation on the sequence. I wondered if it was Morse code. Was it trying to use some form of communicating with us, or playing around?

When someone came in on us and told us it was time to switch, even only we'd been there no more then fifteen minutes, we decided to head out to the mill. The night was clear and cold, with a multitude of brillant stars and a crecent moon dancing across the night sky. Charles City has no towering city buildings or light and is a perfect place to stargaze or watch for ufos.

We walked up the steps into the mill. My meter on, the lights went crazy again, though Carol's (different from mine) didn't move its needle at all. The entity appeared to want to used mine. We got it to answer us when we asked was it from the Civil War era, which it flashed, meaning yes. It flashed once when Carol asked if it liked me. I told it it could not follow me home as my husband would not like it. It went to the one green light and didn't come on for about maybe ten minutes. Had I upset it? Luke sent upstairs to the second and third floor of the mill. He came back down to join us again. I noticed a shadow moving on the box above his head and took a picture. In the photo, I got an orb above the box, close to the right edge.

We left it, taking pictures of the surrounding area. We walked until we came to a spot where a path was broken up and I snapped a couple of pictures, which I got mist in it. Now undersatand, there was no mist that night. Remember, it was a clear night where one could see the stars and the moon. I didn't see any mist with my naked eye, and neither did Carol or Luke. Later, it was Dot who pointed out as I showed her the mist, that the second one was two dogs. I peered at it, as did Carol and other investigators, who all agreed that indeed the mist was dogs. Though later on my laptop screen, I am not sure its two, but one canine, and that maybe the one on the left is its body. What you think?

Very cool that I got something like that. The photo after that only contained orbs. Which was all Carol got.

We went back to the house, where we did the room between the dining room and the front hallway, then the dining room. At one point, with the seem flashin g of my EMF meter, I asked if possibly the spirit with us was a child, maybe a girl? It flash the lights on. When I asked again if it was a boy, to see if it would flash the lights again, it did not do so. Later, Steve of Ghost Eyes's wife told me when they had stayed overnight before an d she had left her recorder on all night, at around 4:30 a.m a little girl's voice had been recorded and they even hear her footsteps leaving te room to go downstairs! So now it appears that more than Lizzie haunts the bed and breakfast. Who is this little girl?

It would be interesting to find out.

After my partners and I joined some other paranormal group downatairs in the tavern to do a session where we saw shadows moving and heard some noises. Were these intelligent spirits or residuals as one member of the other team asked?

It was close to midnight and everyone trooped down to the tavern to share a flute of champagne of sparkling cider to toast 2012 in. I took cider as I would be driving home. Once home, I would share a glass with my husband and son champagne then. We all got in one more investigation before we all had to leave at 1 a.m.

(kitchen blurred and I did not move the camera--paranormal?)

I wondered if Carol got anything else as she and her husband stayed the night? It will be interesting to learn what she did or did not get. Check out some more of my pictures and to learn m ore what happened that night (including any evps) come to my Marscon panel, Ghosts and Legends of Southeastern Virginia, January 13th at 10 p.m, in Room 103.

It was a super way to ring in the new year. After all, hauntings happen all year long! Happy 2012.

Supernatural Friday: New Year’s Superstitions

2011-12-30T06:50:00.000-08:00

The New Year is more than saying goodbye to the old year and hello to the new one. There are superstitions attached to this time of the year. Of course, 2012 has something special, with the Mayan calendar predicting the end of the world.

But let’s talk about normal legends and myths. Open all doors at midnight, to let the old year escape without being stopped. Celebrate at midnight with as much noise as possible, for it’s not just for celebration, but to chase bad spirits away. Widespread superstition has it said that the Devil and other evil spirits hate the din and will run away. Church bells on a wedding day are rung originally for the same reason.

A kiss at midnight with those close to us and whom we hold in affection starts the New Year off right by making sure ties and affections stay the next year. If no kiss is exchanged, it will mean a year of coldness.

Bills must be paid off before midnight chimes to make sure the household does not start off in debt. Same goes for personal debt, as they must be settled before January 1 also.

It is said that the first person to enter your home after the New Year is the one who will influence how your year will go. It is best if the man comes bearing gifts in either silver coin, a lump of coal, a sprig of evergreen, some salt or a bit of bread. And he should be dark-hair, tall and good-looking to make it a good year. But if he’s a red-haired or a blond, well, he will bring nothing but a year of bad luck. As for a female first guest, she should be chased away before disaster hits the household. Hold the women off until a man cross your threshold. The first footer should knock and be let in, but never use a key to enter, even if he lives there. Then after he drops off his gifts and greets those within the walls, he should then exit by another door than the one he entered by.

Larders must be stocked and money in everyone’s wallet to guarantee prosperity.

Another thing about first footers, they can not have flat feet, be cross-eyed, or have eyebrows that meet in the middle (can this last one be a werewolf thing too, since a werewolf can be identified by having brows like this?).

Another thing in regarding to good/bad luck for the New Year, is not to take anything out the first day, not even the garbage. If have presents, don’t even bring them in, but leave in the car until the second. This means don’t shake a rug out or take out empties. Some people say that it’s okay to take something out, long as something else was brought in first, most likely a first footer.

Down South, people make black-eyed peas to serve New Year’s Day to get good luck and financial good fortune, especially to the diner. Other foods such as ham hocks, cabbage, and collard greens can be added, but there must be black-eyed peas as the key ingredient.

Other foods considered lucky are lentil soup (due to looking like coins), pork (pigs root forward while poultry scratches backwards and a cow stands still), and sauerkraut (I grew up with a Czechoslovakian mother, so I love this, as my husband is half Polish!). Definitely do not eat chicken or turkey the first day, since the birds scratch backwards, this means the diners will scratch in the dirt all year (meaning poverty).

Do a token amount of what you do at work (even if you’re off from your job and not near it even) on January 1st, but a small amount is enough, as to engage in a serious project that day is considered bad luck. Don’t even do your laundry or even wash dishes, as this may wash away you or your family members in the home (death) during the coming year.

Wear something new January 1st, to insure you receive more new garments during the year. Do not pay back loans or lend money or other precious items on the first day of the New Year, otherwise you’ll be paying out all year. Avoid crying too. That will mean that will be the tone of the next twelve months and do not, I stress, do not break anything the First, otherwise the rest of the year will a life of wreckage.

So far, sounds like your first day might be best spent in bed after letting in that dark-haired man. But you need to get up to examine the weather that first day. Yes, even the weather can make things bad or good. Like if the wind comes from the south, times ahead will be prosperous times and great weather for all year. But if the wind comes from the north, that means bad weather all year. Wind from the east brings famine and calamities with it while from the west, it brings milk and fish a-plenty, but will also see the death of an important person. No wind, a joyous and prosperous year!

As for babies born on January 1, they are insured luck always.

Now, what will you do to insure good luck for 2012? Or do you don't even care?

WEIRD WEDNESDAY

2011-12-28T05:13:00.000-08:00

This is Flush Hotel in South Korea. Would you like to stay at this strange place shaped like a toilet seat?

Merry Christmas

2011-12-25T06:56:00.000-08:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Supernatural Friday: A Season of Fear and Superstition, Part 2: By Midnight

2011-12-22T19:16:00.000-08:00

Here is Part 2 of A Season of Fear and Superstition. An original short story of mine, set on Christmas Eve, "By Midnight." Merry Christmas reading. . .

By Midnight (Copyright by Pamela K. Kinney)

You better watch out, you better not cr. . . .

A strange jabbering woke her from her nightmare. Mrs. Piers sat up and switched on the lamp on the bedstead by her bed. Light flowed over her and the bed, banishing the darkness back to corners of her bedroom. The only other light came from moonbeams stretching fingers through the glass of the window .

Nothing. Must have been a revenant from the nightmare. She stared at the clock. Shoot! She’d overslept. The woman leaped out of bed, showered, and dressed in her custodial uniform.

It was Christmas Eve, but that didn’t matter, as she was scheduled to work tonight. It had proven to be the only way to get Christmas Day and night off. As she walked into the eat-in kitchen, her daughter, Jenny, brought their dinner, bowls of chicken noodle soup, to the table. Both sat and began to eat, though Jenny only ate a few spoonfuls of soup.

Mrs. Piers lost her husband a year ago and had to go to work to pay the mortgage on the house, besides to support both her and Jenny. Luckily, she saw the ad for someone to clean the local hospital during third shift and when she applied, she got it. That meant leaving her daughter alone in the house at night. A pretty teenage girl going through changes due to puberty could get into trouble, least what she had heard.

So far, nothing happened. Knock on wood.

Tonight though was Christmas Eve. Though Jenny promised she would go to bed early after watching It's A Wonderful Life on TV, as she admitted to feeling ill all day. Still, Mrs. Piers felt uneasy. Jenny handed Mrs. Piers her purse and bagged lunch, and followed her mother to the front door.

Mrs. Piers said, “I feel uneasy about leaving you alone tonight. Don’t know why either.”

“’Night, Mom.” Jenny threw open the door. “I’ll make sure the place is locked up tight, besides, I’m sixteen! Geesh!” She shook her head. “What do you think could happen?”

Mrs. Piers reminded her. “There have been those people that vanished.”

The girl snorted. “That was last Christmas and they were homeless people that disappeared from a shelter downtown, not teenagers. There’s been nothing since. The police even said they think the men just snuck out of the building and took off for parts unknown.”

Mrs. Piers needed to get to work, so she stepped out into the night. The moon and a few stars sparkled up in the black velvet of the sky. Many houses had Christmas lights and other decorations. The whole street was lit up. Some people strolled along the neighborhood, only stopping to view the lights. Everything looked innocent and Christmasy. Nothing scary.

She whistled to the Christmas music that sang from the radio as she drove to the hospital.

****

As Jenny turned to go back indoors, a tease of jabbering reached her from the darkened area beneath a tree on the side of their home. A squirrel? This late though? With a shrug as she heard nothing further, Jenny locked the door and ambled into the living room. Raps resounded on the glass of the sliding doors that led to the back yard. Her friends and the guys they brought were here. Thank God, her mother had left already. Unlocking, she let in two girls and three boys. They strolled past her into the house, carrying bags of snacks and drinks, along with stuff for entertainment. Jenny shut the door and stared as they began to set up. One of the boys put two bags in the living room, while Lisa and other set bags on the kitchen counter and began taking things out. Things like bags of chips, cans of nuts and microwave popcorn overflowed the counter. Jenny thought back to the last day of school, just before Christmas vacation.

Jenny’s friends, Lisa and Debbie, had approached her as she was taking things out of her locker at school and jamming it all into her bookbag.

“Hey,” said Lisa, leaning a shoulder against the ,locker next to Jenny’s. “Your mother works all night—right?”

Jenny slammed the door on her locker and slung her bookbag over one shoulder. “Yeah, but you knew that. So?”

Debbie grinned. “Well, our parents will be out at a party that night until two o’clock. Be kinda cool to have a party without adults staring over our shoulders. There are these three guys—”

Jenny finished for her, “and you two have the hots for two of them. Guess the third was dug up for me? An incentive to have the party at my house?”

Lisa shrugged. “Well, your mom is gone all night—”

Jenny sighed. The other girls looked at her. She nodded. “I don’t feel good about this, but all right.” She shook a finger. “Not all night, okay. Just ‘til midnight.”

Lisa grinned. “Of course, we don’t want to do it all night. Christmas is the next day and we want to be rested for that. Besides our parents will be home by 2 a. m., so midnight is great.”

Jenny had been worried about agreeing then. Wore, all day today, she had not been feeling good. Couldn’t eat and stayed in her room most of the day, as her stomach twisted into tight knots. Least the need to barf had calmed down. It was only until midnight. She could handle that. Surely?

She chided herself. It’s not as if there would be alcohol. . . One of the boys, a tall, gangling one, laughed as he lifted a six-pack of beer out of a grocery bag. Another boy, dressed all in black and sporting earrings in his big ears, nose, and even his lower lip, laughed too, braying like a donkey.

Jenny’s stomach boiled as she fought not to run to the bathroom. She stomped over to Lisa and Debbie who were opening packages of cookies and bags of chips as they gossiped.

She grabbed Lisa’s arm, snarling. “You didn’t say there would be alcohol!”

Lisa glanced with disinterest as the boy withdrew another six-pack of beer. “Wellllll. . .I never said there wouldn’t be. John’s adult brother got them for him at the liquor store tonight.”

Debbie piped up. “It’s not like we’ll all get drunk on twelve bottles of beer, Jenny.”

Jenny blinked. Debbie wasn’t the brightest girl in town. Remembering the incident with Debbie and the horse last year, well, not even in the whole world either.

She sighed. “All right, but be forewarned, first time anyone starts to act drunk, the party is over and everyone goes home.”

Lisa shrugged a shoulder. “Sure. That’s doable.”

Lisa popped in a DVD of a Christmas comedy she brought and both she and Debbie settled on the couch, a boy each nestled against them. Lisa got John, who was the tall, gangling type with the beer, while Debbie got Roy, plump and dumb. Jenny ended up with Spider on the floor. Spider was the goth who brayed like a mule earlier. She had thumped down in the chair that matched the couch, but Spider had slithered in like a snake about to snatch its next victim, sliding his arms round her so Jenny got down on the floor. Unfortunately, so did Spider, looping an arm over her shoulders.

“You know why they call me Spider?” he whispered into her ear. “It’s like I got eight arms.”

It felt like he had eight hands too. They slid up and down her body, searching for permanent places to nest. Like her breasts, and other unmentionable spots.

She hissed in his ear, digging an elbow into his ribs. “Hands to yourself. I don’t know you enough for you to do that. Honestly, in my opinion, that will be never ever. Understand?”

He glowered as he grabbed the bottle of beer beside him. “Your friends didn’t say you be a class A bitch.”

He took a swig of beer and ignored her after that, staring at the television. Which was fine with her. Jenny rose to her feet and headed for the kitchen to get herself a bottle of soda and some snacks.

Alone, she opened the fridge and peeked in when she heard a sound. Closing the door, she listened and heard it again. It sounded like someone saying something, except so slow that Jenny couldn’t catch the words. It came from the back of the house. Jenny stared down the shadow-dark hallway. A chill skittered up her spine. The only people in the house were her and her guests.

The jabbering grew a little louder. Now, it sounded like there was a crowd back in wither hers or her mother’s bedroom.

She jumped when something touched her shoulder. Her pounding heart slowed when she realized it was Spider. His bottle hanging limp from his fingers, the boy’s brow knitted together.

“What’s going on?” He peered down the hall. “I thought we were the only people tonight? Your mother working, right?”

Jenny rubbed her arms with her hands, as she felt cold. “She is. We are.”

“Hey, what’s going on? Sneaking off to do some neckin’?” Lisa and Debbie plus their guys joined them.

Spider pointed with the neck of his now empty bottle at the hallway. “No. Doesn’t that sound like people are talking back there?”

Debbie bit her lip. “Really?” She turned to Jenny. “Thought you said your mom was at work.”

Jenny spat out. “She is. We’re supposed to be the only living bodies in the house tonight.”

Debbie giggled. “Cool. Maybe it’s ghosts.”

Lisa snorted. “There are no such things as ghosts, dummy. It’s just Jenny playing a trick on us.” She merged with the darkness as she walked down the hallway. “I’ll prove it. Hey, John, coming?”

John asked, “You sure you want me? I mean, I doubt there’s anything back there.” He gave Spider a nasty glance. “Spider watches too many horror flicks, you ask me.” But when Lisa told him to come with her, he hustled to join her..

Jenny heard the rustling of their clothing, their footsteps barely audible on the carpeted floor. All sound quiet as even the voices stopped. She back stepped until she found herself against Spider’s front. His odor flowed over her. He stunk of sweat, some male cologne and . . . . fear? How would she know what fear smelled like?

Lisa called out. “Hey, there’s a glow coming from a bedroom back here. It looks like—“

Silence. Nothing from her or John.

Debbie said, “Lisa? Lisa?” Roy yelled, “Yo, John?”

Lisa didn’t answer. John neither.

More chills skittered along Jenny’s nerves. She was ready to turn around and get her cell lying on the coffee table in the living room, then dial 911. But she didn’t as Debbie, along with Roy and Spider tiptoed to where Lisa and John were. Spider hadn’t wanted to, but Roy dug his fingers into the thinner boy’s shoulder and forced him along.

Jenny called out. “Come back. I’m going to call the—“

Suddenly, screams and growls rent the air. Frightened, and not even looking back, Jenny bolted, snatching her cell phone and the house keys. She ran out of the house, not even shutting the door behind her.

Breathing heavy, she stopped in the street and stared back at the looming darkness of the open doorway. Nothing surged out of it, not the others or whatever had gotten them. With a shaking hand, she called her mother at the hospital. After she got off the phone, she felt pain wash over her. Smells rushed at her. Iron-like, like when there was bleeding. She drooled. Confused and still in agony too, she leaned against a car parked on the street. Until she realized it was Lisa’s car, then she stumbled across the street. She stayed there.

Thirty minutes later her mother drove up and after parking the car on the street, joined Jenny who hugged her, crying. “Mom, something’s in the house, and it got Lisa and Debbie.”

Her mother patted her back. “Did you allow them in the house?”

Jenny sniffed. “Yeah. I allowed them and three guys to have a party of sorts at our house. Now something has got them and it’s my fault.”

Her mother nodded. “It is, Jenny. Mine too.”

Jenny looked at her mother and noticed how strange her face looked in the light of the moon. A kind of blurring. “What do you mean?”

“After your father died, I was called back to my people. But they wouldn’t allow you to come with me. I couldn’t leave you. Oh no. They said you’re a halfling. That you couldn’t survive in my world. But I noticed you had some of my powers, something most Halflings never inherited from their few parent. So staying here, I had to get a job to support us, but still worried about leaving you alone as you were entering puberty and with puberty for a fey, the changes come. Some of my people came to stay with us.”

Jenny backed out of her mother’s arms. “What do you mean? I never saw anyone but us in the house since daddy died. And what’s a fey?”

Her mother sighed. “That’s because of the glamour. Like what I use to keep me appearing human to humans, like your father. A fey is another word for what humans call fairies. I am part of one race of the Sidhe. We can change shape with will, besides having other powers.”

Jenny saw with shock as her mother’s form shorted out like a television reception. Where her mother had stood, a tall, pale being with shimmering hair that fell to its feet towered over her. It gave a parody of a smile, revealing a mouthful of cannibal sharp fangs. “I saw your father from a distance when he was hiking with friends in the mountains and I fell in love with him. So I stepped from my world into his, changed my looks, and made him fall in love with me. I don’t need to feed most of the year on what my kind subsist on normally, but on Christmas Eve, before midnight, the hunger calls to me. So I would sneak out to hunt my prey as your father slept deeply due to enchantment. It grew worse when I became pregnant with you. I had to feed for two then.”

Her mother snatched her up and they flew to the house, entering. The door slammed shut behind them without a sound. Jenny was let go and she found herself standing over Spider. A crowd of beings like her mother surrounded them, blood on their lipless mouths and bare skin. Her mother pointed at the scared boy.

“You’re half fey, dear, and you must eat the right food tonight to survive. Just as our relatives had gnawed on your friends. Just as I fed on a dying person at the hospital earlier tonight. Your magic is growing stronger each day and if you don’t feast on human flesh before the first strike of midnight, you will burn up. Don’t you feel the heat in you now? It’s our particular type of fairies’ Christmas curse.”

Jenny did. It felt like a roaring fire centered in her. It hurt. She stared down at Spider and saw how large and rounded his eyes had become. Even smelled his fear like an overpowering perfume. The pulse at his throat drew her eyes. It teased her, begged her to take a bite. But his hands interested her more. Spider had wanted his hands on her earlier that night. She had said no then. Why not be in a place they should? Like her mouth? Yes.

With a smile, Jenny leaned over, her jaws popping to accommodate the feeding. She grabbed Spider’s hands as he tried to screamed, but couldn’t, thanks to the magic she used.

His hands tasted so good when they were in the right spot. Like down her throat and in her tummy.

the end.

Weird Wednesday

2011-12-20T15:18:00.000-08:00

Today's Weird Wednesday has two Christmas trees. Now, having more than one Christmas tree are not out of the norm these days, but one that is upside down?

The Story Behind Santa Claus

2011-12-20T08:57:00.000-08:00

"You better watch out

You better not cry

Better not pout

I’m telling you why

Santa Clause is coming to town."

~Santa Claus is Coming to Town

Santa Claus, also known as Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas, and even as Kris Kringle is a figure with mythical, historical, and folkloric aspects. In many western cultures, he is supposed to bring gifts to the homes of the good children during the late evening and overnight hours of Christmas Eve, December 24. The modern figure was derived from the Dutch figure of Sinterklaas.. This legendary being may have part of basis in hagiographical tales concerning the historical figure of a real man, Saint Nicholas. There is a nearly identical story is attributed by Greek and Byzantine folklore to Basil of Caesarea. Basil's feast day on January 1 is considered the time of exchanging gifts in Greece.

Most of us think he always wore the red coat and pants, trimmed in white fur, black boots and belt, and red hat trimmed in white fur and a ball of white fur like a tassel at the end. But that version did not appeared until the 1823 poem, “Night Before Christmas,” written by Clement Clarke Moore, which was called a “A Visit from St. Nicholas.” Thomas Nast, considered to be the father of the American cartoon, was the first to have created the first image of Santa as we know today. But the name, Santa Claus, was first used in the American press in 1773.

According to a tradition, Santa Claus lives at the North Pole, with a large number of elves, and nine (originally eight) flying reindeer. Since the 20th century, in an idea popularized by the 1934 song "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town", Santa Claus has been believed to make a list of children throughout the world, categorizing them according to their behavior ("naughty" or "nice") and to deliver presents, including toys, fruit and candy to all of the good boys and girls in the world, and sometimes coal to the naughty children, on the single night of Christmas Eve. He accomplishes this feat with the aid of the elves that make the toys in the workshop and the reindeer who pull his sleigh.

Saint Nicholas of Myra is the primary inspiration for the Christian figure of Sinterklaas. A 4th century Greek Christian bishop of Myra (now Demre) in Lycia (now Turkey), Nicholas was famous for his generous gifts to the poor. One well-known tale concerned him presenting three impoverished daughters of a pious Christian with dowries so that they would not have to become prostitutes. He was very religious from an early age and devoted his life entirely to Christianity. In continental Europe (particularly, the Netherlands, Belgium, Austria, and Germany) he is still portrayed as a bearded bishop in canonical robes. In 1087, the Italian city of Bari mounted an expedition to locate the tomb of the Christian Saint and to procure his remains. The reliquary of St. Nicholas was desecrated by Italian sailors and the spoils, including his relics, were taken to Bari where they are kept to this day. Saint Nicholas later became proclaimed as the patron saint of an odd assemble of peoples: archers, sailors, and children, to even pawnbrokers. He is also the patron saint of both Amsterdam and Moscow.There are numerous parallels between Santa and Odin of Norse Mythology. There are theories regarding the pagan origins of various customs of the holiday stemming from areas where the Germanic peoples were Christianized and retained elements of their indigenous traditions, surviving in various forms into modern depictions of Santa Claus. Odin was sometimes recorded, at the native Germanic holiday of Yule, as leading a great hunting party through the sky. Two books from Iceland, the Poetic Edda, compiled in the 13th century from earlier sources, and the Prose Edda, written in the 13th century by Snorri Sturluson, describe Odin as riding an eight-legged horse named Sleipnir that could leap great distances, giving rise to comparisons to Santa Claus's reindeer. Further, Odin was referred to by many names in Skaldic poetry, some of which describe his appearance or functions. These include Síðgrani, Síðskeggr Langbarðr, (all meaning "long beard") and Jólnir ("Yule figure"). According to some traditions, children would place their boots, filled with carrots, straw, or sugar, near the chimney for Odin's flying horse, Sleipnir, to eat. Odin would then reward those children for their kindness by replacing Sleipnir's food with gifts or candy. This practice still survives in Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands and became associated with Saint Nicholas since Christianization. In other countries it has been replaced by the hanging of stockings at the chimney in homes.

In the Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg, Saint Nicholas ("Sinterklaas", often called "De Goede Sint" — "The Good Saint") is aided by helpers commonly known as Zwarte Piet in Dutch ("Black Peter") or "Père Fouettard" in French. His feast on December 6 came to be celebrated in many countries with the giving of gifts. However, in the Netherlands the Dutch celebrate on the evening of December 5, with a celebration called "pakjesavond". In the Reformation in 16th-17th century Europe, many Protestants and others changed the gift bringer to the Christ Child or Christkindl, and the date for giving gifts changed from December 6 to Christmas Eve. Tradition holds that Saint Nicholas (Sinterklaas) and his aides arrive each year by steam boat from Spain in mid November carrying a book that contains notes on all children that indicate whether the child has been good or naughty during the year and gifts, chocolate letters and spice nuts to be handed to the well-behaved children. During the subsequent three weeks, Saint Nicholas is believed to ride a white-grey horse over the rooftops at night, delivering gifts through the chimney to the well-behaved children, while the naughty children risk being caught by Saint Nicholas' aides that carry jute bags and willow canes for that purpose.

In contrast to Santa Claus, Sinterklaas is an elderly, stately and serious man with white hair and a long, full beard. He wears a long red cape or chasuble over a traditional white bishop's alb and sometimes red stola, dons a red mitre, and holds a gold-colored crosier, a long ceremonial shepherd's staff with a fancy curled top. He carries a big book that tells whether each individual child has been good or naughty in the past year. He traditionally rides a white gray. Though in the Netherlands and Belgium next to Sinterklaas, the character of Santa Claus is also known, He is known as de Kerstman in Dutch ("the Christmas man") and Père Noël ("Father Christmas") in French.

An elf in Nordic folklore about the 1840s called "Tomte" or "Nisse" started to deliver the Christmas presents in Denmark. Portrayed as a short, bearded man dressed in gray clothes and a red hat, this creature was obviously inspired by the Santa Claus traditions that spread to Scandinavia then. By the end of the 19th century this tradition had also spread to Norway and Sweden, replacing the Yule Goat. The same thing happened in Finland, but there the more human figure retained the Yule Goat name. But even though the tradition of the Yule Goat as a bringer of presents is now all but extinct, a straw goat is still a common Christmas decoration in all of Scandinavia. Iceland has thirteen Yule lads that originate from folklore rather than Christianity.

Father Christmas goes back as far as the 17th century in Britain. There are pictures of him from that era, where he is a jolly well-nourished bearded man dressed in a long, green, fur-lined robe. He typified the spirit of good cheer at Christmas, and was reflected as the "Ghost of Christmas Present", in Charles Dickens's festive classic A Christmas Carol.

Today, Santa Claus is the image for the Christmas spirit. Parents take their children for photos with Santa at malls and shopping centers. There’s even a website by Norad where you can track then jolly old elf. NORAD SANTA

Now that you learned something of where he originated from, the question is, are you naughty or nice? You can check out at Naughty or Nice Meter After all, you only have a few more days before he descends into your home to leave your present.

A Genre Writer's Christmas

2011-12-19T15:34:00.000-08:00

It was the night before Christmas,

And this writer was busy plotting
When all of a sudden--
Her characters came to life!
There was the monster from her novel,
Chomping on a tasty victim.
The hero appeared, stunning in purple;
Well, that's the writer's favorite color,
What did you expect: white?
He grabbed a sharpened pencil to duel with the fiend
When the heroine popped in midair and dropped down,
Into a container overflowing with paper clips.
Drowning, choking on a clip, she cried out for help,
And who do you think rescued her?
Not the hero, oh no!
He was trying to make time with a statue of a gargoyle,
That stood guard over the writer's laptop.
For he had a thing for beings made of stone.
The monster rushed right over in a flash,
Not to kill her or eat her,
No, with a gentle paw, he helped her up.
And arm in arm, both vanished to the monster's lair
Where in chapter eleven, they got it on hot and heavy.
The writer just shook her head
And with a click of the mouse, saved the story.
The hero dissipated, no more to be seen,
Well, not until chapter twelve anyway.
With a sigh, the writer stood and snatched up her coffee cup,
Time to join the family and reality,
The story could wait for another time.
Because it's Christmas after all:
Merry Christmas to all and to all, a magical night!

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

COPYRIGHT 2011 by Pamela K. Kinney. So please do not copy and post on your site without permission, but do share the link instead.

Supernatural Friday: A Season of Fear and Superstition

2011-12-16T07:00:00.000-08:00

It's that time of the year to smooch under the mistletoe, shop for loved ones and go view Christmas lights on the Tacky Lights Tour. The season is full of good tidings and happiness, nothing scarier than you might get that special gift from Santa Claus. Right?

WRONG! People in olden days didn’t stay indoors due to the “frightful” weather, but more because it might have been cold and dangerous outside. They knew in their hearts that dark forces lurked amidst the shadows of the snow drifts. Winter Solstice (December 21) was seen as a time when the fabric between the mortal world and the world of malicious spirits became thin enough for things to snatch unwary victims. Though the fiends are lout all winter, still, this time prove to be the scariest. When many gathered together to celebrate, it was hoped that the dark spirits would realize with all that din that there were too many bodies inside or caroling outside to grab one person. Another custom practiced was doors were flung open at midnight to let out trapped evil spirits caught inside the building. A candle was left burning in the window all night to insure good luck for the family inside. Any candle that burned out before dawn was deemed a bad sign.

Another thing said is that those born on Christmas are apt more to see a spirit than those not. But they have nothing to fear from any ghost if they chance to encounter one. They are also protected against deaths by drowning or hanging.

Witches are a part of Christmas too—through our very own Christmas ornaments, or balls. In Scotland, people used to wear them around their necks to ward off witches. It was also believed in Scotland and Canada that if a witch touched one, her/his soul would be caught within the ball forever.

A witch ball is a hollow sphere of plain or stained glass hung in cottage windows in eighteenth-century England to ward off evil spirits, witch's spells, or ill fortune, though the witch's ball actually originated among cultures where witches were considered a blessing. Witches would usually "enchant" the balls to enhance their potency against evils. Later, they were often posted on top of a vase or suspended by a cord (as from the mantelpiece or rafters) for a decorative effect. Witch balls appeared in America in the nineteenth century and were often found in gardens under the name "gazing ball,” something that has come back, as I bought one last summer to place in my own garden. However, "gazing balls" contain no strands within their interior. According to folk tales, witch balls would entice evil spirits with their bright colors; the strands inside the ball would then capture the spirit and prevent it from escaping.

Witch balls sometimes measure as large as seven inches (eighteen cm) in diameter. By tradition, but not always, the witch ball is green or blue in color and made from glass. There have been others made of wood, grass, or twigs, instead of glass. Some are decorated in enameled swirls and brilliant stripes of various colors. The gazing balls found in many of today's gardens are derived from silvered witch balls that acted as convex mirrors, warding off evil by reflecting it away.

Because they look similar to the glass balls used on fishing nets, witch balls are often associated with sea superstitions and legends. The modern Christmas ornament ball is descended from the witch ball. According to an ancient tale, the ornament was originally placed on the tree to dispel a visitor’s envy at the presents left beneath the tree.

Besides the ball, mistletoe was also considered a powerful charm to be used against witches, along with lightening. The lightening? Is it connected, as maybe caused by a witch? Good question.

This time of year also has ghost stories told. Just as much as Halloween. Charles Dickens’ novel, the Christmas Carol, Is proof of that. Those Victorian people did more than go Christmas caroling or drank mulled wine by the roaring fires. There’s even that line in It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year song that goes "There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmas long, long ago." There are novels and anthologies that come out this time of the year, ghostly fiction or horror stories. One book of fiction I found is Christmas Ghosts, edited by Kathryn Cramer and David G. Hartwell. I ordered for myself, a ghostly tale set during Christmas time for my Kindle, The Carousel by James Cessford. The eBook intrigued me to read it and it was not a bad price. Search Amazon or your local brick and mortar independent bookstore for other Christmas ghost stories to buy and read.

Besides, ghost stories, there are other dark myths and legends concerning with Christmas. In the olden days gone by in Finland, they believed in Joulupukki. Pagan people used to have festivities to ward off evil spirits. In Finland these spirits of darkness wore goat skins and horns. In the beginning this creature didn't give presents but demanded them. The Christmas Goat was an ugly creature and frightened children. It is unclear how this personality was transformed into the benevolent Father Christmas. Nowadays the only remaining feature is the name. The process was probably a continuous amalgamation of many old folk customs and beliefs from varied sources. One can speak of a Christmas pageant tradition consisting of many personages with roles partly Christian, partly pagan: A white-bearded saint, the Devil, demons, and house gnomes. Nowadays the Joulupukki of Finland resembles the American Santa Claus. This reminds me of Black Peter and the Krampus, both being Santa’s “evil twin.” In many areas of the world, it is said that St. Nicholas has a companion. This companion is Krampus, though another version is Black Peter, or Zarte Piet or Zwarte Piet. Black Peter is associated with the Netherlands and has dark skin. Krampus isn't a man though. He has horns, goat hair, hooves, and claws. Just like a demon. His job is to accompany St. Nicholas and to warn and punish bad children. He is said to carry a basket on his back where he will place the bad children and take them to Hell to be tossed into the pit. Puts a frightening twist on “have you been naughty or nice!” Krampus originates from Krampen--meaning claw. Young men dressed up in goat skins and masks they spend two weeks making and on December 5th go out to scare all and carry out "birching," mainly on young girls.

So, besides a season of “good tidings,” it is also a time of terrible fear. So get your children in at night and make sure they are good. And do the same for yourself. For you never know if that shadow moving along the street past your front yard is just someone looking at your Christmas lights, or something else waiting to get you! Happy holidays. . .

Next week on December 23rd, I will post Part 2 of Supernatural Friday: A Season of Fear and Superstition. But if you want to read ghost stories, real or fiction, check out my books. For myths and legends, check out Haunted Virginia: Legends, Myths, and True Tales. For ghostly tales set in Richmond and its surrounding counties: Haunted Richmond, Virginia.

For my fiction, I do have some ghost stories in this book, Spectre Nightmares and Visitations, besides other tales of horror. For the tradepaper back (only $7.50): Amazon and Genre Connections. For it as an eBook, find it and the one short story, "Dark Eyes," that is in the print version, but not in the download, find both at Genre Connections.

Here's a sampling from Virginia's Haunted Historic Triangle: Williamsburg, Yorktown, Jamestown, and Other Haunted Locations:

Neither Tree or Family Can Separate True Love

"We loved with a love that was more than love." Edgar Allan Poe

There is a couple buried in the cemetery behind Jamestown Memorial Church. A legend that involves a sycamore tree says that it separates them in death, accomplishing supposedly what their families never could do in life.

In the 1700s, James Blair served as counsel to the British Government and became governor of the Virginia colony later on. He is considered the founder of the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg. All of this would be made him a worthy suitor for any young woman. He was handsome, too. Any parent would be proud that he paid suit to their daughter, but Sarah Harrison's parents did not see it that way.

Age seventeen and the oldest daughter of Colonel Benjamin Harrison of Wakefield Plantation, Sarah was active in plantation social life. She was not only beautiful, but also a headstrong girl. Many eligible suitors paid court to her. Her parents approved of marriage to one of them, a young man named William Roscoe.

Except she met James Blair three weeks later, after her engagement had been announced. She fell in love with him and it seemed that he did likewise. A love affair deemed doomed from the start. Not only because of her engagement to Mr. Roscoe, but because James was twice her age. In those days, any girl who married an older man became a disgrace to her parents, since society viewed such marriages as a sign of the girl's family's failing finances.

The headstrong Sarah, though, did not stay away from James. Legend has it that her fiancé, William Roscoe, died of a broken heart after she broke their engagement. Not long after, she and James married. Her parents did not attend the wedding and would have nothing to do with the couple. They tried many things, from trying to get it annulled to even drawing up legal papers. During a trip to see an attorney about this, Colonel Harrison, his wife, and their youngest daughter were killed when lightning during a storm struck their carriage.

The Blairs went on to live happily as man and wife until Sarah passed away in 1713 at the age of forty-two. Never forgiven by her family, she could not gain entrance into the Harrison family plot and instead got buried in a stone crypt just outside it, in a small cemetery within grasping fingers' reach of the Jamestown Memorial Church on Jamestown Island.

James lived another thirty years. When he finally died in 1743, he was laid to rest in another stone crypt about six inches from his wife's tomb.

In 1750, a sycamore tree began to grow next to James's crypt, right between his tomb and his wife's. Nothing was done to prevent its growth and it grew and grew until it shattered the bricks between the two crypts. This caused Sarah's headstone to move into the nearby Harrison plot, only a short distance from her parents' and her sister's graves.

The story doesn't end there, either. Not long ago, the old sycamore tree, grown very large, had died and gotten cut down. The broken bricks and shattered tombs had been left as they were. Not long after another sycamore tree sprouted in the very same spot. By all appearances, it appeared that the Harrisons still worked from beyond the veil to keep their daughter from James.
Just as it was so back in October 28, 2008, I found the two lovers' graves side-by-side, no sycamore tree separating them. All the graves in that church cemetery laid out in a row, no doubt put that way by the Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities. I'm pretty sure that the preservation society dug out that tree long ago, but the romantic in me still believes that maybe James got his wish and the two of them are together in death just as they had been in life. Doesn't happily-ever-after always sound better with any story?

WEIRD WEDNESDAY

2011-12-14T07:17:00.000-08:00

Are these Santas celebrating the day after Christmas

by speed boating? Or are they testing out a new way of traveling not by reindeer?

Inhuman Magazine, Issue 5 Released-My Story, Donating, Included In It

2011-12-11T15:09:00.001-08:00

Got a super email from the editor of Inhuman Magazine. Issue 5 is out--it has my tale, Donating, in it. Right now for sure you can order it from the editor Allen Koszowski 351 Westridge Circle Phoenixville, Pa. 19460. The cost is $6.95 for the issue plus $2.50 for postage - a total of $9.45.

Stories and authors included in INHUMAN MAGAZINE # 5:

New Terrors

San Diablo. Lisa Morton
Soul-eater. Jill Bauman
Lachesis . Monica J. O’Rourke
Dragon People. Bruce Boston
Homebody. Tim Waggoner
Dead Reckoning. Don D’Ammassa
Bernice. James S. Dorr
A Slow Corruption. Jon Hansen
Talent Does What It Can. Wrath James White
Donating. Pamela K. Kinney
Mandy-Lu. Donald R. Burleson
The Lion of Orkahaugr. Christopher M. Cevasco
Love in a Time of Zombies. Darrell Schweitzer
Burden of Guilt 3: Growing Pains. James A. Moore
Scarecrows in the Nebraska Moonlight. Tim Curran
Three Barbers— No waiting. John Maclay
We Are the Monsters Now. Darrell Schweitzer
The Devil’s Vein. Ron Breznay
An Outsider. John Pelan
Among Us. Brian Freeman
The Carousel . Roman Ranieri
Bloom Where You’re Planted. Cody Goodfellow

Old Horrors
Pick and Grim. Michael Shea
Skinflowers. David Gerrold
Prowl. Barry N. Malzberg

Supernatural Friday: Legend Of Babushka

2011-12-09T06:53:00.001-08:00

The Legend of Babushka is believed to originate in Russia. This story was very popular in Russia before the revolution of 1917. Babushka was an old and lonely woman who is considered to have started the tradition of giving gifts to children.

Babushka which means 'grandmother' or 'old woman' in Russian, lived in a big house, safe and warm. Her life was lonely, with no friends or family. Only the sound of travelers passing in their carts and the animals grazing nearby could break the monotony of her existence. She provided shelter for weary travelers, along with food to birds and animals.

One year, a very cold winter hot Russia. The birds that normally hung around for her bread crumbs, flew away to a warmer climate. Even the animals, dug in their dens to sleep through the winter, or keep warm until spring thaw. Babushka prayed for some company, any kind. One winter night, when she was trying to sleep, she heard a noise steadily growing louder—voices and grunts—and she knew there are no humans or animals for miles around. Then there came a loud knocking at her door. Thinking it was a cold and hungry traveler, when she threw open the door, she found three richly dressed noblemen on horses. They wore the most splendid clothing she ever saw.

She invited the men inside but they declined. Instead, they invited her to travel with them, to Bethlehem, where they were bound, they said, to find and welcome the child who would be the king of Jews and lead mankind to salvation. Still, being night and the winter harsh, the old mother asked the strangers once more to spend the night her house so that they all can leave in the morning. The men declined, saying that they do not want to get delayed, and set off. Later that night as she lay in bed, she thought of the three men and the strange tidings they bore about the child who would be the king. She felt sad at rebuffing their invitation. It was then that she decided to meet the Child herself.

She gathered some trinkets for the babe and set out in the cold dark night. She never found the travelers or the baby. Legend has it that the old mother is still looking for the Child to this day and that whenever she meets a child she presents him/her with trinkets before continuing on her search. Thus, in Russian belief, the custom of giving gifts to children on Christmas results from Babushka.

My Author Interview at Relaxing the Writer Blog

2011-12-07T17:13:00.001-08:00

I was interviewed at Relaxing the Writer both as Pamela K. Kinney and my pseudonym, Sapphire Phelan.

WEIRD WEDNESDAY

2011-12-06T14:17:00.001-08:00

Guess these people are being ecological and made their own Christmas tree. ..of beer bottles!

Supernatural Friday: Legend of the Evergreen Trees

2011-12-02T09:24:00.001-08:00

It is said that one winter, as the birds flew south for the winter, one little bird broke its wing on the way and fell to down into strange woods. It began to snow and when the whole forest was covered in it, the little bird couldn’t fly up to a tree and her nest, and with snow on the ground, she couldn’t find sees or worms. Frightened that she might perish, she begged the trees to help her and get her up into one of their branches. However, the trees were not kind. The birch tree, proud of being beautiful and haughtily, said it could not possibly help the bird because it had to look after the birds of his own forest first. The strong oak tree mentioned that it was afraid that the bird would have to live there till spring time and would eat up some of its acorns. Even the willow tree, normally gentle otherwise refused to help.

Distress, the little bird tried to fly again, but her wing was still not fit for the purpose. Seeing her struggle, the spruce tree asked her, “Why are you so downcast?” When the bird revealed her problem, it offered her its thickest, softest and warmest branch.

Inspired by the kindness of spruce tree, the big and strong pine tree also volunteered to protect the spruce tree and the bird from the North Wind through the winter. The little juniper tree offered its berries to the bird to quench her hunger. The bird remained through the winter, safe and warm, and when spring came, his wing was healed and he could fly away comfortably there and flew away again at springtime.

The Frost King, who kept close note of the behavior of all trees, strictly instructed the North Wind not to touch even a single leaf of the kind spruce, pine and juniper trees; while he was free to play havoc with the leaves of other trees. The North Wind especially enjoyed in plucking the shining, green leaves of the willow, oak and bird trees and leaving them bare for the winters, with nothing to protect them from snow, rain and sleet. It is for this kindness that the leaves of the spruce, the pine, and the juniper are always green and they are known as evergreen trees.

Stop on Unfinished by Suzanne Gravelle Virtual Tour

2011-11-30T16:02:00.001-08:00

Today author Suzanne Gravells is stopoing by on her blog tour to talk about her book, UNFINISHED.

When life overwhelms you and you cannot take one more moment of the chaos that is happening all around you… if it’s feasible grab your keys and take a drive.

We know that a change of scenery, favourite music, quiet streams or majestic mountain ranges have calming healing affects, even if it is only for the moment we are enjoying them.

We all have thoughts of running away but we know even if we do, we cannot get away from our selves, our thoughts travel with us. For me I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, to be able to think, start a thought and finish it without interruption or influence from those around me.

A drive out to the country is what most people can do and usually that is enough to blow some of the convoluted thoughts back into perspective but for me it had to be wider than that. I wanted space, wide open space and a drive out to the country was not going to be enough for me.

So I sold my home, resigned from my career, kissed my children and grandchildren good-bye, got into my truck and starting driving, I call it… my Self Imposed Exile.

60,000km and 17 months later I am still driving. Coast to Coast 3 times, North, South, where ever the wind blew me, I went there. Today I am still driving working on my 4th trip heading West.

We all have had terrible, devastating, heartbreaking moments and we feel as if we will never have a moment’s peace, nor do we think we will ever get over what happened to us, we wonder if life will ever be normal again, whatever normal is.

When a heartbreak ripped the structure of my world apart it brought me to my knees and I could not breathe or think, the only thing I wanted was to be alone and on the road. I did not want to subject my family and friends to what seemed like constant drama and sorrow. Professional therapy was suggested but I could not sit still so my therapists had to be compact. I had to be able to pop in a CD when I was driving or open a book when I was sitting still and this worked very well… for me.

During my self imposed exile, I was able to piece together why the heartbreak was just heavy enough to bring my life crashing to the floor. I came to understand it was not just the heartbreak, I had heartbreaks before, it was the 30 years of taking care of everyone but me and I was exhausted. But it was not until I started journaling my journey did I see how my mind started to calm down and I began to think clearer. As I read through my journal a very clear story had started to form and I had no choice but to share my remarkable journey that is still…Unfinished.

For more information about Unfinished by Suzanne Gravelle, visit http://www.amazon.com/Unfinished-Suzanne-Gravelle/dp/192700506X and you can follow her journey on her BLOG

About Unfinished:

This is a true story of a woman who experienced such a profound awakening that she could no longer live the same way, the same life she was just one week before. She could no longer ignore the woman who was screaming to be set free from the ties that bind her to a life she no longer desired or recognized. The transformation to become the woman

she really wanted to be has propelled her upon the most remarkable self-discovery journey of her life. She sold her home, gave up her career, kissed her children, grandchildren and friend’s good bye, got into her vehicle and just drove away…ALONE. Where was she going? 30,000km later she finds herself in the most unlikely place to try to piece her life together, trying to make sense of the constant feeling of being UNFINISHED. To order your copy – http://www.amazon.com/Unfinished-Suzanne-Gravelle/dp/192700506X

About Suzanne Gravelle:

Suzanne Gravelle is 49 Years old and has 3 children, 2 grandchildren who live in Nova Scotia. At the time this book goes to print she is single and homeless by choice, still travelling, seeking that place of comfort she will eventually call home.

She spent most of her life living in Nova Scotia but her formidable years aged 10-25, were spent living on Vancouver Island, British Columbia. She resigned as a Real Estate Agent in Nova Scotia, to embark upon this most incredible journey, driving, exploring Canada and writing this book. To read Suzanne’s extended bio, visit http://bookpromotionservices.com/2011/11/10/suzanne-gravelle-bio/

WEIRD WEDNESDAY

2011-11-29T18:40:00.001-08:00

Whoever thought this up decided to do a different kind of Christmsas tree this year and made a Dalek tree. Is it weird to you or not? Would you like this in your house?

Signing My New Ghost Book in Williamsburg, Virginia This Afternoon!

2011-11-27T07:16:00.001-08:00

I will be signing my new release, Virginia’s Haunted Historic Triangle: Williamsburg, Yorktown, Jamestown, and Other Haunted Locations at the Barnes and Noble at Williamsburg's New Town Shops , 5101 Main Street, Williamsburg, VA, 23188 today, Black Sunday, from 1:00 pm to 3:00 pm. 757-564-0687

Signed books make great Christmas gifts!

Supernatural Friday: Legend of the Mistletoe

2011-11-25T09:11:00.001-08:00

Kissing under the mistletoe is more than just a chance to get your honey to kiss you. Besides the Christmas holly, laurel, rosemary, yews, boxwood bushes and, of course, the Christmas tree, mistletoe is an evergreen displayed during the Christmas season. It is symbolic of the eventual rebirth of vegetation that will occur in spring. More so than any other of the Christmas evergreens, it is a plant of which we are conscious only during the holidays. Mistletoe has long been regarded as an aphrodisiac and fertility herb. It may also possess abortifacient qualities, which would help explain its association with uninhibited sexuality.
Kissing under the mistletoe got its start in Celtic rituals and Norse mythology. In Gaul, the Druids considered it a sacred plant. It was believed to have medicinal qualities and mysterious supernatural powers. After preparing for a sacrifice and a feast under the oak, they hail the mistletoe as a cure-all, bringing two white bulls with horns that have never been bound before. A priest dressed in a white robe climbs the oak and with a golden sickle cuts the mistletoe,. It is caught in a white cloak. After sacrificing the victims, they ask the god to make the mistletoe propitious for them. There was belief that a potion prepared from it will make sterile animals fertile and that kit was an antidote for any poison.

Mistletoe and the kissing are traced back to ancient Scandinavia. It was also the plant of peace there. If enemies met by chance beneath it in a forest, they laid down their arms and maintained a truce until the next day. This ancient Scandinavian custom led to the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe.

But this tradition went hand-in-hand with the myth of Baldur. Baldur's mother was the Norse goddess, Frigga. When he was born, Frigga made every plant, animal and inanimate object to promise not to harm Baldur. But the goddess overlooked the mistletoe. Loki took advantage of this oversight and tricked one of the other gods into killing Baldur with a spear fashioned from mistletoe. The demise of Baldur, a vegetation deity in the Norse myths, brought winter into the world, although the gods did eventually restored Baldur to life. Frigga pronounced the mistletoe sacred, ordering that it should bring love rather than death into the world.

HAPPY THANKSGIVNG

2011-11-24T12:02:00.001-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving. I am thankful for my readers. May you all, whether in the US or other parts of the world, have a blessed day.

WEIRD WEDNESDAY

2011-11-22T17:03:00.001-08:00

Beginning of November for the first Weird Wednesday we had a woman with a turkey hat. Now, with one day away from Thanksgiving we have a man wearing a turkey. What a turkey!

Check Out My Guest Blog on Hauntings at The Demon Stole My Pencil

2011-11-20T15:33:00.001-08:00

Today, I am guest blogging about "Hauntings" at The Demon Stole My Pencil

Supernatural Friday: Myths, Legends, and Folklore

2011-11-18T05:25:00.001-08:00

Everyone participates in the reading of legends, myths, or folklore at some point in their lives. Who hasn’t read Greek mythology in school, or the folklore of Paul Bunyan, or tall tales of famous, real people like Calamity Jane or Johnny Appleseed? And what about urban legends? Urban legends are myths told in modern society, in cities or online, unlike many of the old tales set in the countryside. Even now, these get passed around in emails or are posted on the Internet—stories about the serial killer with the knife hanging around Lover’s Lane, Bloody Mary, the terrible smell under the bed in a hotel room or even the computer virus story that may have been true three years ago, but is still sent out as a warning.

A legend (Latin, legenda, "things to be read") is a narrative of human actions told about someone that existed in reality, once upon a time, but the true events have been twisted, making them more fascinating. Legend includes no happenings that are outside the realm of "possibility,” defined by a highly flexible set of parameters. These may include miracles that are perceived as actually having happened. There is the specific tradition of indoctrination where the legend arose, and in which the tale may be transformed over time, in order to keep it fresh, vital, and realistic. It is kinda like that game you played with your classmates in school, where you whisper to the next person a story, and by the time it comes full circle, that story has changed drastically from what it began as.

A myth is a sacred or traditional story that concerns the origins of the world or how the world and the creatures in it came to be in their present form. Myths serves to unfold a part of the world view of a people, or explain a practice, belief, or natural phenomenon. Parables and allegories are myths. Nothing is supposed to be real about it at all, even if someone mentioned in the story is a real person, like some famous Virginians in this book. There are stories told about their habits or life that are not true.

Folklore is the traditional beliefs, myths, tales, and practices of a people, transmitted orally. It is popular, but unfounded beliefs. Or, as Merriam-Webster says: “traditional customs, tales, sayings, dances, or art forms preserved among a people.”

The flavor of people and their culture, all interwove with day to day life when settlers came to the New World. They brought with them their folk tales and beliefs, and founded new ones in the new country. Some old stories mutated into different ones. There were older tales told by the Native Americans who were already living in Virginia before the white man came. Then, when slaves were brought to the New World, they brought with them tales from Africa and changed them, molding them to fit their new home.

Today, in modern times, we continue this with urban legends. Who hasn’t heard of the killer with the hook in lover’s lane? Or who hasn’t said, “Bloody Mary” while staring into the mirror, hoping to make a ghost appear? There’s the hitchhiking woman dressed in an evening gown that is picked up and climbs into the back seat, giving directions to an address to the driver. Once they arrive at the house, though, the driver discovers that she has mysteriously disappeared. When he goes to the door, he is told that his hitchhiker is the daughter of the owner of the house, who had been killed just after she left a party several years before, never making it home. But stories like the hitchhiking ghost existed long before they ended up as urban legends. I know I’ve read stories when it was a buggy or wagon being driven, not a car. So how many urban legends started as folk tales by those who colonized America?

Many of the legends and folk tales told by our ancestors have some kind of moral attached to them. These may be warnings. Watch your womenfolk and children, so that marauding Indians could not kidnap them. Don’t dare approach some old woman living in the woods for a much needed potion to rid one of an unwanted pregnancy, for she may conjure a spell and convince you to crawl into her oven to be cooked.

All of the above are the start of human storytelling, most likely around the campfire at night and told by the village shaman or official storyteller. What stories do you remember and still like to tell?

Like to read some myths, legends, or folklore? You can find some Virginian ones in my book, Haunted Virginia: Legends, Myths and True Tales. And with Christmas fast approaching, books make great gifts. This one can be read by children, grade 3 to adults.

Virginia's Haunted Historic Triangle: Williamsburg, Yorktown, Jamestown, and Other Haunted Locations Reviewed by Chesapeake Style Magazine!

2011-11-17T05:09:00.001-08:00

Virginia's Haunted Historic Triangle: Williamsburg, Yorktown, Jamestown, and Other Haunted Locations got a great review in Chesapeake Style Magazine. There's a print copy, but you can read it in the online pdf of the magazine at http://is.gd/RWgCcv

The review is on page 13 (my lucky number by the way!)

Weird Wednesday

2011-11-15T12:13:00.001-08:00

Every year at Thanksgiving, I gathered that this family-owned turkey farm paints a handful of turkeys with vegetable dye, turning their white plumage neon. Thinking he wanted to make these birds more attractive to sell?

Supernatural Friday: eBay Purchase

2011-11-10T17:45:00.001-08:00

This short dark fantasy story is copyrighted to me, Pamela K. Kinney, so please do not take it and share it on your blog or elsewhere. Instead, share the link with friends and have them come here to read it. It is based off the old nursery rhyme, Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater.

eBay Purchase

Pamela K. Kinney

Judy Linnea watched as her husband set down the jack-o-lantern on the front porch. He stood up and stretched, then sauntered back inside the house. Peter took his dark hooded sweatshirt out of the hall closet and slipped it on. He turned to her. She saw nothing on his face but a blank page, a few wrinkles and a graying five-o’clock shadow the only thing written on it.

“Heading out again, Peter?” she asked sarcastically. “You never stay home with me anymore.”

A strange little grin flitted across his lips. For a minute a chill raced up her spine, burt she shook it off. No way the man would hurt her.

“What’s the matter, Judy? Do you think I seeing another woman or something?”

She snorted. “You? Magic would be a more real possibility, then your lazy butt cheating on me!”

The strange smile grew wider, as if only he got the joke. Not even pausing to give her a kiss on the cheek, he stepped past her and went outside. The door slammed shut with a loud bang.

Judy stared at the door, shocked. Least he’s always gave me a kiss before. What’s the matter with him these days?

Actually, he’d been acting strange ever since he had brought home that pumpkin the day before Halloween a week ago, carved a face on it and set it out on the porch on Halloween, all lit up. Funny thing, he removed it the day after, and didn’t throw it in the trash as usual, but took it indoors. Until today when he put it back out. Very strange behavior, even for him.

Well, whatever’s up his butt will have to be puzzled out later.

She had cookies to bake.

Just before she could head to the kitchen a woman’s giggle came to her ears. The sound came from outside, just outside the front door, if she thought about it. Frowning, Judy opened the door and stared through the screen door.

Empty. Only the porch furniture and the damned pumpkin. Judy was about to shut the door when someone giggled again.

“What the . . .”

Puzzled, she realized the sound came from the top of the porch steps. Except no one stood there, only the pumpkin. Judy shoved the screen door open and stepped out.

She stood next to the jack-o-lantern, staring down at its face that Peter had carved into it. Eyes like mirthful crescents, the nose, an upside down triangle, and the mouth was a slash so malignant that for a moment she shivered and took a step back.

Another giggle filled the air.

In dawning horror, she realized that it came from the jack-o-lantern. Something slithered up one side, long and black-green.

“Oh God, a snake!” Where was freaking Peter when she needed him? She hated snakes.

Judy tripped over her feet and landed on her butt. Her face was close to the slithering thing that curled around the orange flesh of the jack-o-lantern. She noticed that the ‘snake’ had tiny red horns that rose from the top of its head and as its yellow eyes stared into hers, a tiny red flame issued from its opened maw.

She screamed, trying to scramble to her feet and failing. The creature hissed, more flames filling the air along with the sound—the thud-thud of something pounding from inside the pumpkin.

The jack-o-lantern split apart, and pieces fell onto the top porch step in front of it. A miniscule body, dressed in a tattered crop top, denim shorts and green sandals staggered out, a tiny sledgehammer gripped in her minute hands. I was a woman with orange eyes and blonde hair, all in a Barbie doll face. She gazed up at Judy.

“What the hell are you?” asked Judy, unable to move a muscle. Had this creature hypnotized her?

The woman gave a nasty smile.

“I’m Peter’s new wife.”

“Excuse me?”

“Peter realized that your software program that came with the package of tomato seeds he had bought last spring was defective. But the seller on eBay who sold him this pumpkin said to carve it and insert the new software program, then right-click, and I would come alive. I’m to replace you.”

“Come on, we have to hurry, as Peter is expecting a dinner of steak and mashed potatoes with home baked pumpkin pie tonight when he gets home. I need to get to the store.”

Judy’s vision wavered and she tried to stand, but found that her legs wobbled like rubber. Her vision dimmed but she saw another odd thing about the jack-o-lantern that she hadn’t noticed before. A long, white line attached to a two-button computer mouse snaked from behind the jack-o-lantern.

That’s when she fell into a long dark corridor of nothingness.

****

Judy regained consciousness and found herself lying on something red. In fact, everything looked red from top to bottom and side to side. The whole room seemed circular and empty of furniture. She stood, her legs still shaky.

To her horror, she saw a giant, feminine face with pumpkin orange eyes staring at her through a large, gaping hole in the red wall in front of her.

“Oh God, where am I?” screamed Judy.

“Why, in the jack-o-lantern, of course!” said the face in a booming voice.

The face vanished when Judy heard the thunderous footsteps of some giant.

“Peter! It worked!” The female voice.

“It did?” Peter’s voice roared like a sonic boom.

The next moment his dove-gray eyes peering through the hole at her.

“Comfy?” he said. “Good.”

She ran to the hole and poked her head out to look up at him towering over her like a skyscraper. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

He didn’t answer, but he leaned over to pick up the mouse she had seen earlier, only now it was way bigger. “I have to save you into the program.”

He right-clicked the mouse and all went blank for Judy..

****

Peter took the CD and shoved it into a drawer full of other CDs, each with a woman’s name on it. He turned to his new wife.

“The program better work right this time, or I’ll not be buying any more programmable wife software off eBay. Understand?”

His new wife smiled, touched her hair with a shaking hand before she leaned over to give him a kiss.

Weird Wednesday

2011-11-09T06:32:00.000-08:00

If my turkey for Thanksgiving grinned back at me like this one is doing, I be freaking out. What do you think?

Supernatural Friday: It's Coming

2011-11-03T13:34:00.000-07:00

Copyrighted by Pamela K. Kinney, just enjoy it and share the link with friends. A week after Halloween is over, but what the heck, working on a novel for NaNo, so found this for Supernatural Friday.

It’s coming,

Like a terrible thing

It’s scary,

Dark, and with a toothy grin.

So you better beware,

Have everything ready

Decorate appropriately,

For the end is near.

Just remember one thing,

It only comes but once a year

Halloween, costumed in orange and black,

A mask upon its gruesome face

Ringing your doorbell with persistence,

Innocent child or demonic being

Just feed it candy, just to be safe.

Trick or Treat.

Weird Wednesday

2011-11-01T15:23:00.000-07:00

This is a turkey of a hat!

Trick-Or-Treat (Happy Halloween!)

2011-10-30T18:53:00.000-07:00

The below flash fiction belongs to Pamela K. Kinney and is copyrighted to her only, so please share thr blog link to your friends and not take off this blog to put on yours, or on forums or websites. Thank you.

Janie and Bobby dressed in costumes, trudged up the sidewalk as they passed other similarly dressed children. It was Halloween, their favorite time of the year. When all children could go door to door, knock, and candy were poured into their waiting bags after yelling, ‘trick or treat.’ If the adult refused, the kids could play tricks on them and get away with it.

Janie and Bobby loved the treats, but they loved doing the tricks even more. They loved doing nasty, terrible tricks.

“It is tradition,” Mama told them. If the adults gave them candy, then fine and dandy, don’t do anything. But for that one who said, “No treats for you here, now go away!” they had permission to go ahead and do what their family had been doing since the early 1900s.

Janie and Bobby couldn’t wait. For the past couple of years they hadn’t been able to play any of their tricks, as every door they had knocked at the owners handed over candy, fruit, popcorn balls, tiny toys, and money. But when they woke up this morning, they sensed that this night would be different. They would finally be just like the rest of their family.

Nothing happened so far. Both of their bags laden heavy with the fruits of their labor, they stopped before the white picket fence that surrounded the yard of a pretty white Cape Cod home. It looked normal and so . . . suburbia.

This was it. They felt it. They would finally get what was owed them. They couldn’t wait.

Janie and Bobby tipped up their masks and looked at each other, shark grins flashing on their sweet, chubby faces. They pushed the gate open and wandered up the leaf strewn path to the front door. No Halloween decorations shown anywhere and no lit Jack-O-Lantern greeted them, just the closed door, painted a cheery blue.

They knocked and waited.

The door opened without one creak, and a little old lady stood on the other side. Her white hair was swept up in a bun and she wore a cheerful flowered print top and white pants. She peered at them, then blinked her eyes behind tortoiseshell glasses.

“Sorry,” she said, “but I forgot to buy candy to give out tonight.”

Bobby grinned. “That’s okay. We rather not have any treats. Tricks are oh so much cooler.” He tossed aside his bag and the sweets scattered across the front stoop.

He lifted his real axe. He had dressed as serial killer on purpose this morning. His sister was garbed as Lizzie Borden, her own axe gripped tight in her fist. She dropped her own bag and raised it high above her head.

The old lady stepped closer and smiled. “I know. I’ve been waiting for you, my dears. Human killers are not very smart. Not when inhuman ones have perfected their own bag of tricks for eons. My kind has been hunting their prey the hard way for centuries. Many still do. Not me though, I found a much easier way. Usually I decorate my place to attract regular human children on this night, but when I moved here and heard of the murders that been going on in this town for a very long time, I devised a different tactic.” She giggled. “It’s justice for the humans in this town after all and delivery food for me.”

Her face cracked and it split apart, falling to the floor. The rest of the body followed. Amidst the scattered pieces of the flesh, a giant shaggy wolf-like creature stood on clawed hind feet. It snatched both children to its breast. Bobby and Janie screamed, but the sounds were cut off when they were taken indoors and the door slammed shut behind them.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Virginia's Haunted Historic Triangle Reviewed at Hanging Off The Wire-Giveaway of My Book Too

2011-10-30T14:13:00.000-07:00

Virginia's Haunted Historic Triangle: Williamsburg, Yorktown, Jamestown, and Other Haunted Locations

was reviewed at Hanging Off the Wire Blog . Check that out and either 1. Follow the blog via GFC, the newsletter, or Networked Blogs. or 2. "Join" Pamela K. Kinney on Facebook, or 3. Promote this giveaway via Facebook, Twitter, Blog, etc. to be entered to win the copy of the book, too. Ofr do all three. Of course, l ave her a comment which you did, or if did all three. Giveaway ends November 6th. Hanging Off the Wire

What the reviewer said:

I wasn't expecting to get spooked by this book, but, well, I sort of did. I loved learning the history of Virginia, since some of my ancestors hail from there. And I love ghost stories, so this book was right up my alley. The photographs that go along with the chapters in this book are amazing and really help you to envision what you are reading. The book is gorgeously put together, and well laid out. Anyone interested in history and ghosts will thoroughly enjoy this book.

Legend of Stingy Jack

2011-10-29T15:16:00.000-07:00

Come now, friends and fiends, and enjoy the following tale behind the jack-o-lantern. Every October, carved pumpkins peer out from porches and doorsteps in the United States and other parts of the world. Gourd-like orange fruits inscribed with ghoulish faces and illuminated by candles are a sure sign of the Halloween season. The practice of decorating “jack-o’-lanterns”—the name comes from an Irish folktale about a man named Stingy Jack—originated in Ireland, where large turnips and potatoes served as an early canvas. Irish immigrants brought the tradition to America, home of the pumpkin, and it became an integral part of Halloween festivities. One day down and counting to. . . HALLOWEEN!

Stingy Jack was a miserable, old drunk who loved playing tricks on anyone and everyone. One dark, Halloween night, Jack ran into the Devil himself in a local public house. Jack tricked the Devil by offering his soul in exchange for one last drink. The Devil quickly turned himself into a sixpence to pay the bartender, but Jack immediately snatched the coin and deposited it into his pocket, next to a silver cross that he was carrying. Thus, the Devil could not change himself back and Jack refused to allow the Devil to go free until the Devil had promised not to claim Jack's soul for ten years.

The Devil agreed, and ten years later Jack again came across the Devil while out walking on a country road. The Devil tried collecting what he was due, but Jack thinking quickly, said, "I'll go, but before I do, will you get me an apple from that tree?"

The Devil, thinking he had nothing to lose, jumped up into the tree to retrieve an apple. As soon as he did, Jack placed crosses all around the trunk of the tree, thus trapping the Devil once again. This time, Jack made the Devil promise that he would not take his soul when he finally died. Seeing no way around his predicament, the Devil grudgingly agreed.

When Stingy Jack eventually passed away several years later, he went to down to Hell to see the Devil, but the Devil kept the promise that had been made to Jack years earlier, and would not let him enter.

Thinking, Ah, Heaven will surely let me in then!, he wandered up to the Gates of Heaven, but was refused entrance because of his life of drinking and because he had been so tight-fisted and deceitful.

Jack went back to Hell to see the Devil.

"Where can I go?" asked Jack.

"Back to where you came from!" replied the Devil. "You doomed yourself to roam the earth, a restless soul who can find no rest ever." Lucifer tossed him a turnip and a ember straight from the fires of Hell itself. "Here, hollow out this turnip and place this ember inside. Use its light to find your way through eternity."

And to this day, Jack wanders, never stopping in one place, a hauntingly lost soul, who learned you never ever really beat the Devil at his own game.

There Be Vampires in Virginia!

2011-10-28T20:33:00.000-07:00

I write fiction, but I also write nonfiction ghost books. My ghost books have more than ghosts or ghostly myths and legends, as Virginia is also rich in tales about werewolves, Sasquatch, UFOs, and much more, just like any other state. There are even vampire stories. For my first book, Haunted Richmond, Virginia, I discovered a vampire in Richmond. The Richmond Vampire even has a Facebook Page .

On October 2, 1925 the railroad dug the Church Hill railroad tunnel. After three o’clock in the afternoon, a worker, Campbell heard a brick fall, then another and another, then a terrible crackling noise sounded along the tunnel roof and he dashed for safety. The roof crashed down behind him. The combined sounds of earth, bricks, timber, and the screams of trapped men were loud and horrifying. Lights in the tunnel flickered and went out, and crew members and laborers rushed for the exits. Some made out of the western entrance, which was only a few hundred yards away, but the others scrambled for the eastern one, nearly a mile away. Engineer Mason became trapped in the cab. Fireman B. F. Mosby managed to crawl underneath ten flat cars and escaped the tunnel, only to die that night from burns he received from the steam of the locomotive. It is said it is undetermined how many actually perished in the tunnel. Today, one of the two sealed entrances is at the end of the former Richmond Cold Storage, now being rebuilt into apartments.

Besides the ghost stories connected to this horrible tragedy, is the legend of the Richmond Vampire that has the vampire as some strange creature that had dug its way out of the Church Hill train tunnel cave-in and was found over a victim, his mouth covered in blood. He had jagged teeth, plus decomposing skin hanging off his arms and legs. The creature took off and ran all then way to Hollywood Cemetery, followed by pursuers, where he hid in a crypt marked W.W. Poole. This is obviously an urban legend, with a basis in fact. The creature was in reality a fireman, Benjamin F. Mosby, burned almost beyond recognition. He had been rushed to Grace Hospital, dying 24 hours later. An interesting offshoot from this was the saying that going to Hollywood meant you were dying.

This vamp is not the only vampire connected with Virginia, when I wrote Haunted Virginia: Legends,Myths and True Tales. I discovered stories of bodies resurrected from their graves by grave robbers in Northern Virginia; one of them had two ridges around the wrist of each arm—speculation said vampire. Another story concerned Sir Thomas Lunsford had been accused of being a child eater back in England. Of course, when he came to the New Country, he lived a quiet life until his death in Port Royal. The last vampire I believed was real—as a serial killer. A European named Rupp moved to Big Stone Gap in the 1890s. It was determined he was killing and eating those who had disappeared by finding body parts in his cabin. He was never caught, but is said to haunt the area.

Whether real or made up, vampires stalk Virginia. Besides the cardinal as a state bird and dogwood as state flower and tree, maybe we need a state vampire? Don’t you think the Richmond Vampire would make a great candidate?

Supernatural Friday: Halloween Macabre

2011-10-27T19:55:00.000-07:00

The below poem belongs to Pamela K. Kinney and is copyrighted to her only, so please share thr blog link to your friends and not take off this blog to put on yours, or on forums or websites. Thank you.

Darkness spills

its ink across the sky,

Jack-o-lanterns on porches and fences

shine golden light

A cackle,

and a shadow flies against the crescent moon:

It’s a witch on a broom!

Black cat’s yellow eyes are all

you can see in the night

A low hoot calls from a tree,

and an owl swoops down. Scattering leaves.

Childish laughter,

adults’ murmurings,

and doorbell chimes,

It’s Halloween.

An icy breeze swirls around

costumed bodies, causing shivers,

But is the cold,

or something more?

Misty, ghostly forms danced

across neighborhood lawns,

Voices on the air

None mortal,

More shadows flood out

the moon in the sky,

And jack-o-lantern light

blinks out

Children dragging bags of candy

are led by parents

Into safety of homes,

doors and windows locked tight.

All Hallows Eve

now belongs

to its rightful owners,

Let the dance macabre begin!

Ghosts Are Amongst Us

2011-10-27T07:58:00.000-07:00

They haunt right alongside us, around us, and in places you never think would be haunted. They can be where the least you expect them. And spirits are not “trick ponies,” they will not perform on cue every night or day, so invisible, they might still be there, leaving you a feeling of being watched or even dread. Though the dread may be unintentional, as the phantom may not be evil (though there are times a bad one may be there), but your own psychic attention may give you that.

What are spirits? Where did the words come from?

In traditional belief, a ghost is the soul of a deceased person or animal that can appear, in visible form or other manifestations, to the living. Descriptions of the apparition of ghosts vary widely: The mode of manifestation in photos or seen by the living’s eyes can range from an invisible presence, shadow people, translucent or wispy shapes, and orbs, to realistic, life-like visions—solids. The deliberate attempt to contact the spirit of a deceased person is known as a séance. Paranormal investigators use equipment to find proof of paranormal activity and to make contact with phantoms.

In many tales, ghosts were often thought to be deceased people looking for vengeance, or imprisoned on earth for bad things they did during life. The appearance of a ghost has often been regarded as an omen or portent of death. Seeing one's own ghostly double or "fetch" is a related omen of death.

Another widespread belief concerning apparitions are that they are composed of a misty, airy, or subtle material. Early beliefs were that ghosts were the person within the person (the person's spirit), most noticeable in ancient cultures as a person's breath, which upon exhaling in colder climates appears visibly as a white mist. This belief may have also fostered the metaphorical meaning of "breath" in certain languages, such as the Latin spiritus and the Greek pneuma, which by analogy became extended to mean the soul. In the Bible, God is depicted as animating Adam with a breath.

Ghosts are also termed spook, spirits, phantoms, fetch, haint (a common feature of southern oral and literary tradition), wraith, revenant, apparition, spectre, shade, and entity. Poltergeist, German for a “noisy spirit,” is for a spirit said to manifest itself by invisibly moving and influencing objects. The Bell Witch was considered a poltergeist.

Most times, a poltergeist is just mischievous, though there instances of it being sinister, not unlike the Bell Witch. Was the Bell Witch a poltergeist or more along demonic lines? Good question. It was an entity that tormented a pioneer family that lived in what was then Red River, Tennessee in 1817-1827 ( Red River is now known as Adams, Tennessee). It was substantiated by eyewitness accounts (other than the family), affidavits, and manuscripts written by those who witness the phenomenon. More about this interesting tale can be found in author Pat Fitzhugh, The Bell Witch: The Full Account.

Besides the poltergeist phenomena, there are three other types of hauntings. First are residual hauntings. These are a recorded playback of what happened in the past. Maybe it could even be a time warp (one idea of mine, though I can’t prove this, but who knows, a feasible one like any other theory). There is no interaction with the living -- the ghost does not see or hear you because the ghost is not actually there. Only his/her energy remains, it is a remnant of his living form that you are seeing, just like when you watch a video. This cycle continues in the same place at usually the same time of day or year indefinitely until the energy is exhausted or diminishes to a low enough level that it is undetectable by human perception. One account of residual hauntings are the Union soldiers marching into Centre Hill Mansion in Petersburg, Virginia every year at certain time on January 24th. An interesting fact about the steps the soldiers march up is that they are not even the original staircase from the Civil War era, but new ones put in by Charles Davis. And yet, like clockwork, the soldiers march up those steps at the same time each January 24^th. None died, but after the fall of Petersburg, Centre Hill became occupied by Union troops, led by General George L. Hartsuff. President Abraham Lincoln visited Centre Hill on April 3, 1865 to go over the local situation with General Hartsuff. This meeting took place only eleven days before Lincoln’s assassination.

The museum holds a Ghost Walk that you can reserve by calling the Petersburg Visitors Business Center at either (804) 733-2400 or 1-800-368-3595 after the first of January for prices and times. Do it quick and call early to reserve your spot as they fill up fast.

Traditional, or intelligent, hauntings are the second. Whether actual human spirits that had not crossed over into heaven and had some unfinished business with a living person, or a message they wanted to deliver before they could move on, or even those that just want to stay in a place they lived in life or be on our plane of existence (more and more, I suspect they can travel back and forth between here and the “other side.” These ghosts will unlock doors and open windows, run the faucets and even interact with you directly because they are an "intelligent" presence, the personality of a person who was once alive but has stayed behind rather than passing over.

The third type of haunting, and undoubtedly the most frightening, is a demonic, or inhuman, haunting. To me personally, I think when a human was evil in life, they too would be considered under demonic. There have been stories of where priests have gone in to exorcise a possessed person, and instead of a inhuman demon, this one claims to be the parent or someone alive once, tormenting the person.

The entity is similar to a traditional haunting because the spirit is intelligent and are existing in the present moment with you. These spirits are malevolent and hostile, suffering from psychological instability or distress stemming from an unresolved conflict with the people who are being subjected to the demonic activity. Demonic presences tend to be ‘unleashed' in order for them to manifest. This is one reason why the use of an Ouija Board is customarily discouraged among many ghost hunters. So if you find one in the game section of the store, don’t buy one. Not understanding and without protection, one can open up a portal, letting in things they can not handle and most times, demonic in nature.

With Halloween nearly here, ghosts are more so on people’s minds. When you step out into the night for that Halloween party or that haunted house or trails attraction, do be unnerved if you see shadows move in the darkness. It may be just shadow people. Spirits roam Halloween as it is said the opening from the “Other Side” is more so on certain days of the years then the rest. And they want to party just like the living—right?

Again, it may be your imagination, least, you tell yourself that. Then again. . . wait. . .is those shadows closer than before? Watch out—

The Bunnyman, the Urban Legend

2011-10-25T18:23:00.000-07:00

There are urban legends of the man with the hook in Lover’s Lane, the Halloween campus murder, the babysitter story, and many more of serial killers that are not real. Or are they? But the Bunnyman is unique in that he wears a bunny costume.

The myth first popped up in 1976. It had the Bunnyman responsible for the deaths of two children in Clifton, Virginia. Rumors of the disappearance of other children, plus the horrible mutilations of animals, circulated during the telling of the story that same year. No one dared go out at night, especially not near the bridge where this psycho is supposed to be hanging around.

In 1992, more was added to the tale of the Bunnyman, where murdered children hang from a covered bridge and the supposed killer is an inmate escapee dressed in a bunny suit. The Bunnyman earned his nickname because he nourished himself on rabbits while perused by the police. Other variations of the tale had him hunting rabbits and using their pelts to make clothing for himself.

Years later, when people began to use the Internet, this terrifying legend got new rebirth. One widely circulated version on the Net has inmates from an insane asylum escaped in 1904 while being transferred to Lorton prison. One of the inmates was named Douglas J. Grifon. He murdered fellow inmate Marcus Wallster. He became the Bunnyman. The location, plus the names of several victims Grifon killed as the Bunnyman and dates of their murders are mentioned and says anyone can check the Clifton Town Library to verify the facts. Facts that are not true.

There’s no insane asylum in Fairfax County. Lorton Prison never came to be until 1910. And when it did, it was part of the District of Columbia corrections system, not Virginia’s. Neither Wallster nor Grifon appeared in any court records, and there is no Clifton Town Library.

More is added to this tale of this murderer dressed as a Bugs Bunny from Hell. It says that a note found on the inmate, Marcus, who supposedly was found hanging from the tunnel entrance beneath Bunnyman Bridge. The words on the paper written, "You'll never find me no matter how hard you try! Signed, The Bunnyman."

It is claimed that if you walk all the way down the tunnel at around midnight (which believe me isn’t much of a walk, as I’ve been there), the Bunnyman will snatch you before you get a word out and hang you from the entrance of the bridge. Then you’ll swing back and forth like a Halloween decoration left over after the spooky night itself.

Another story told in 2001 has a guide and six local students (no mention if they were in high school or college) had found parts of mutilated rabbits strewn around, heard noises, and thought they saw figures moving in the woods. Frightened, they left the area.

There are many stories told by young people about Bunnyman. The Internet is a great breeding ground for the Bunnyman legend where once it was spread by word of mouth, except now the world learns of this scary being, where before it was just the localities of Northern Virginia and lower Maryland.

In Reston, Virginia, there used to be a dirt road leading off of Sunset Hills Road, just before it intersected with Reston Avenue. The kids in town knew that it led to the Bunnyman’s house. Supposedly, one Halloween night he dressed up in a bunny costume, shot his wife and kids, then opened the door to trick-or-treaters all night with the corpses of his family still in the house.

Another tale has a guy in a bunny costume standing in the middle of the road at the bottom of a hill in Clifton. As cars came down the hill, he would throw an ax at the vehicle and somehow, he always killed the person or persons inside.

There’s the tale of a mental patient that escaped from a bus transporting patients when it crashed in the woods near the bridge. The authorities were called in, but when they searched for the man, they never found him. Later, carcasses of rabbits began to be found, scattered around the bridge. It seems that the mental patient was living in the woods, surviving off of the meat of the rabbits. But when they discovered some teenagers gutted and hanging from the bridge, the local authorities put out a manhunt for "the Bunnyman,” as the local children called him. The story goes that they eventually caught up with him. Just as they were about to apprehend the Bunnyman, though, he jumped in front of a train roaring down the tracks. Since then, it is said that the Bunnyman’s spirit haunts the bridge, and that on Halloween at midnight, his spirit becomes visible right over the bridge that bears his name. Drunken teenagers can always be found at the base of the bridge at midnight on Halloween, waiting to see if the spirit of Bunnyman will appear.

Another take on the legend has a young man from Clifton, Virginia who came upon the bridge while traveling. Later, he killed his parents and dragged their bodies into the woods to hang them from the bridge, and then committed suicide. In 1943, three teenagers, two men and a young woman, went to the Bunnyman Bridge on Halloween night. The next morning they were found dead, hung from the bridge, their bodies slashed open. Notes were found attached to their feet, with the words written," You'll never catch the Bunnyman!"

One witness claims to his own personal experiences with Bunnyman Bridge. He has been out there about a dozen times, since it’s about fifteen minutes from his house. Most of the time, he and his friends hang around the bridge, waiting to see if anything would happen. Nothing does, but they feel as if someone or something is watching them. Even though the bridge is located about twenty-five miles from Washington D.C., it is still in the middle of nowhere. Only a few houses nestle within the woods that surround the bridge and railroad tracks. If you drive through the tunnel, only one car at a time, as it is small. The last time he and his buddies went out there, they heard voices that came from the woods, whispers that sounded as if they originated twenty feet from where the young men stood. Frightened, they bolted.

So scary is the Bunnyman, that he inspired a cult horror flick, Donnie Darko.

To read more bout the truth and more about the Bunnyman, check out my book, Haunted Virginia: Legends, Myths and True Tales, published by Schiffer Publishing. Buy it at AMAZON, Barnes and Noble, Books A Million, and other brick and motar bookstores and online places.

The next time you decide to check out Bunnyman’s Bridge, especially on Halloween night, watch out for rabbits. Especially if one of those bunnies looks bigger than normal, and after standing up, and suddenly is clutching an axe: RUN!

My Book Signings in Richmond Wednesday the 26th and Thursday the 27th

2011-10-25T09:12:00.000-07:00

I will be signing my new release, Virginia’s Haunted Historic Triangle: Williamsburg, Yorktown, Jamestown, and Other Haunted Locations, along with my first two nonfiction ghost books at Libbie's Barnes and Noble 5501 W. Broad Street Richmond, Virginia 23230 804-282-0781 on Wednesday, October 26th, from 7:00 pm to 9:00 pm.

On Thursday, Oct. 27th, I will be signing my new release, Virginia’s Haunted Historic Triangle: Williamsburg, Yorktown, Jamestown, and Other Haunted Locations, along with my first two nonfiction ghost books at Barnes and Noble at Chesterfield Towne Center 11500 Midlothian Turnpike Richmond, Virginia 23235 804-794-6640 , from 5:00 pm to 7:00 pm.