A Chilling Tale by Mary Ricksen

Silhouetted in the blood-red sky, the ghost of a moon drifts through the night, shedding an eerie glow on the haunted mansion. An invisible presence looms about the manor, palpable enough to slice through the fog-misted night. The wind chimes tinkle in the wind, sending prickles skittering down Mary’s spine. And when she hears the thundering of footsteps behind her, she pauses, her heart in her throat. Nothing. Then she guffaws, a bitter chuckle spewing from her lips. Silly fool. Just the sound of her own footsteps spooking her. But when something brushes her leg, she screams loud enough to wake the dead. Then she spies him as he rustles through the dry leaves before slinking into the dark of night. A black cat. Another superstition. She’s doomed. Why oh why had she agreed to come to the haunted mansion tonight of all nights to tell a ghost story? She’d been having signals and vibes all day, hadn’t she? So why had she come? She frowned. Because Sharon made her, that’s why. Then she breaks into an engaging grin. And because the hunky butler Oliver will be at her beck and call all night. Taking a moment to adjust her witch’s hat and dab her lips with scarlet war paint, she yanks the rope to announce her presence. And when the creaky old door opens on rusty hinges, and Oliver grins, his eyes glinting with madness, Mary tosses all caution to the wind and saunters into the vestibule.

“Madame is waiting for you, Ms. Ricksen,” Oliver took her hand in his, fingers intertwining. “Allow me to escort you into the parlour.”

So enthralled was Mary, she didn’t even flinch when she walked through spider webs, when a hairy wolf spider crawled down her arm or when the pet raven swooped down the spiral staircase, his massive wings flapping before perching himself on her shoulder. She just gave Oliver’s hand a little squeeze and put a little va boom in her walk

Sharon, portraying the Mysterious Veiled Lady, dressed in black satin with a bustle skirt, sat in between the Two-headed Lady and the Howling Werewolf. Casting Mary an evil smile, she patted the seat next to her.

Sharon: Do have a seat here on the sofa, dearie. There’s plenty of room. Oliver, do bring Mary a strawberry delight from Duncan Donuts. She’s about to tell us a ghost story about her mother and we don’t want her mouth to get dry. So Mary, now that you have all our attention (the (werewolf screams as the silvery light from the moon spills in through the double hung window)

Do tell us this bewitching story of your mother’s special powers which you’ve inherited.

Mary slugs back the strawberry drink Oliver hands her and then demands something stronger. Three martinis later, she’s so ready she stands atop the coffin and clears her throat, commanding silence.

My Mom and the house she loved too much.

My mom is fey. I believe it has always been passed down on the matriarchal side of
the family. My mom had fiery red natural colored hair, naturally curvy it was one
of her biggest prides. It's white as snow now. She has misty morning green eyes with
flecks of amber in them. She loves the color Kelly Green and tends toward the Irish
side of her ancestry. She was a flirt and hung out at the USO. My father saw her
and fell in love before he even spoke to her. He always had this strong sense of
needing to take care of her. They always owned beautiful homes. My father worked
hard for the government and he had to change where we lived frequently to move up
the corporate ladder.

They were living in Virginia, my mom loved that home. It had five bedrooms, (six
kids), lots of bathrooms and a huge yard where my mother grew plants in an almost
magic way. No matter what she put in the ground it bloomed and grew as if just to
please her. When she put the house up for sale she would kick everyone out and even
comb the rug so the house looked immaculate when potential buyers would come.
That house loved my mother too. Nothing broke and the many time she was alone with
us on my fathers business trips, she was always safe and snug.

So she finally sold the house and trustingly she left with us all to go be with my
father and never worried the closing would go well with their lawyer there. At the
last minute the people demanded my parents come down $10,000 or they would back
out. My parents were blown away. What rats? In the end they had to take the deal,
heck they were already moved. My mother stewed, and smoldered about it, for weeks
and then she broke down and decided to make a spell. She didn't do it often, all
she could do was negative things and she had to be very emotionally charged. Boy
was she.

She lay in bed that night and left her body, she traveled back to her old home in
Annandale, Virginia, and walked the still empty house. Putting unhappiness and depression
everywhere, she cursed the home and it's occupants. She traveled back into her body
and satisfied, fell asleep. There would be no happiness for those crooks in my mother's
home.

Eventually as time passed, so did her anger and she forgot about it. It was three
or four years later that she heard from one of her old neighbors. The woman asked

if she could give my mom's phone number to the people that owned the house now. They

needed her help. It seems that the people who first bought the house divorced within
six months and every family since and I think there was three of them, all ended
in the same boat. That's four divorced families. The woman who owned the house said
that it was full of anger and hate and it was contagious. She and her new husband
began to fight the minute they moved in.

My mom went back to the house that night. She walked it and did the best she could
to suck back up all the negative vibes she'd left behind. Then went back home. The
couple went on to have three children and still live in the home today. I have inherited
some of her abilities and I can't do good spells either. I once tried my hand a crystal
scrying. I used the best full of windows natural rainbow crystal ball available.
I saw a friends face and it turned to a skull, he was dead in month, so I stopped
that. And there was the scary incidents with the Ouija board as a teen. So I don't
do anything any more. Not a good idea.

When Mary takes her respective seat on the sofa, the vanilla-scented candles flicker before turning blue. Then they zap out. A cold draft filters through the room and the werewolf howls. Then the candles come back on. From inside the walls, the skeletons rattle. The organ cranks out the funeral dirge just as a big hairy spider crawls out of its web.

Sharon: Hmmm. Mary. Very interesting powers you have inherited from your mom. Now this ghost story is the perfect example of a voo doo curse, I’d say. When did you first realize your mother had these powers that be?

Mary: No not Voo Doo, it’s more like a Celtic witch kind of thing for my family. My Mom worried about hearing the Banshee wail. She lost her first husband and heard it when he passed.
She is a quarter Abenaki Indian and it was said the women were healers and foretellers, in that part of the family. But we never saw anything off. She was our mom and to us they were stories.

Sharon: And did you find these peculiar, a bit out of the norm? Were you and your siblings ever frightened by these powers?

Mary: My Mom talked about these things like she talked about her first boyfriend, or her other family tales. My brothers didn’t even listen and my sisters sense things sometimes, but that’s it for them.

Sharon: Hmmm. I foresee a best seller here. Do dish, girlfriend. Any chance of that?

Mary: It would have to be about my mother and her soul mate. Which is my father and his control would make it sad even though they totally loved each other My Mom changed for him.

Sharon: That gives me chills, all those families facing turbulent love affairs the moment they set foot in the home, all due to your mom’s curse. Hmmm. Remind me to stay on the good side of her. Oliver, do pack some treats for Mary to take to her mom when she visits, and put a nice bow and card on top.

Sharon: And what other things could your mom do when she was…ah…fired up and charged?

Mary: My Mom is 85 and very frail. She has a whole bunch of stories. But she didn’t really look at herself as a witch. She could throw a mean slipper.

Sharon: When did you first realize you’d inherited the power, Mary. Sharon blesses herself as Mary’s penetrating stare seems to burn a hole through the veil shrouding her face.

Mary: I first started to play with the Ouija board with my best friend, when I was a very young teen. We had some crazy things happen and our parents took it away. When I first moved into my own apartment at 20, I was disillusioned with life. I knew I had to test the limits. I tried Wicca, but it wasn’t for me, even with my respect for nature. I started to learn about crystals. I read all about different religions and I opened my heart and mind to learn about all kinds of things.

Sharon: And do you think you’ll ever call upon or be called upon to perform your gift again? And if so, would you dare and scrye?

Mary: Not in a million years.

Sharon: Mary, it’s been a truly bewitching tale. As I’ve often said, the legends and lore have some merit or they would not have been passed on from generation to generation through the centuries. You are a gift. With your gift of story telling, you’ll go far. Good luck to you, my friend. And give your mom a big hug for me.

Mary: Thank you Sharon for having me. I will give my mom your best! Thank you so much for the compliments you are in the wrong costume, you should be dressed as an Angel. Oliver has been so kind; he only tried to bite me once. Then he seemed to snap out of it and began to act like a, dare I say, Butler, but I was taken aback when he started to sound a bit like Lurch. Remember him? Well I do have to leave, the Headless Horseman is waiting for me. Have you seen the head he caries. He’s rather handsome don’t you think?

Ta, Ta. I’ll see you at the ball Sharon, Oliver? Mary waves grandly to the room and leaves.

You can learn more about Mary Ricksen on her website at: www.maryricksen.com

And purchase Tripping Through Time
www.thewildrosepress.com

Have a ghost story to share? Tell us all about it. We love to hear them!

Happy Halloween!!