favourite ghost stories: the citadel well

When planning a trip to an unfamiliar city, one of the first things I do is find a local ghost walk. I enjoy listening to "true" ghost stories and legends, especially when I can stand at or near the place where the story originated. Walk in the footsteps of the ghosts (when ghosts are kind enough to leave footprints).


Fortunately, one of my favourite places to hear ghost stories is conveniently close to home. Within the stone walls of an old military fort on a hill that rises up out of the centre of Halifax. Bleak, damp, windowless rooms; narrow, crumbling tunnels; high stone walls; a long and harsh, often cruel, military history. The Citadel is a haven for restless spirits. And a lantern-lit walk inside its walls on a dark and cold October evening has become a Halloween tradition.


One of my favourite stories dates back to the mid-1800's when the Citadel was home to the British regiment, the 78th Highlanders. The story goes that a fire broke out in one of the fort's barracks and soldiers hurried to the wells for water to extinguish it. In the aftermath, a roll-call was conducted and one soldier was discovered to be missing. Not surprising. It was believed that he had used the chaos of the fire to his advantage and deserted. He was probably stowing away aboard a ship in the harbour at that moment. Time passed. Soon there were suggestions that the well, from which the fort obtained its drinking water, should be inspected and perhaps, cleaned. Apparently, the water tasted a little . . . odd. And it was then that the body of the missing soldier was found. What remained of him was pulled from the well, recognizable only by the remnants of his uniform. Did he accidentally fall in during the rush to put out the fire? Or was he deliberately pushed? He wasn't talking. But through the years since, Citadel guards have witnessed the lonely figure of a soldier in the uniform of the 78th Highlanders. He walks quietly back and forth . . . back and forth . . . along the ramparts above Casement 18. The location of the long-abandoned well.

homemade memories

One Christmas season past, I found myself with time to spare and a shortage of ornaments for my tree. Since I was also experiencing a shortage of cash, I resolved to make some ornaments myself. I turned to my bookshelf, flipped through a recipe/craft/Christmas book, and found what I was looking for: instructions for baked dough ornaments. I mixed, kneaded, cut, baked, and painted. When I had finished, feeling creative and productive, I proudly hung my new ornaments on the tree.

And was promptly met with derisive laughter.

My homemade Christmas ornaments have been a running joke in my family ever since. Admittedly, they are . . . mediocre. No matter. I hang them on the tree faithfully every Christmas, while patiently explaining that my love for them has little to do with the ornaments themselves. Instead, I love them for the happiness and memories they evoke.

And so it is that this Halloween, I'll anticipate a new round of commentary. Because I've created a first collection of Halloween tree ornaments using the same tried and true method of years past. And come October, I'll patiently explain that it's not the ornaments themselves that I adore. It's the love of Halloween that is a part of each one of them. And if they continue laughing, I'll replace the miniature chocolate bars in their treat bags with raisins.

ghosts on the water

You know it's really, really cold outside when you wake up to "sea smoke".

It would be wonderfully atmospheric to have this effect at Halloween, but not the temperatures that accompany it. It can be cold in late October, but not that cold. Thankfully.

salem art

While walking through the Bizarre Bazaar in Salem last fall, somewhere between the souvenir T-shirts booth and the fried dough stand, a display of Halloween-themed art caught my eye.

Much of Maryanne Piro's whimsical Halloween art involves witches, with the occasional jack-o-lantern making an appearance. I was able to spend some time meeting and talking with the artist herself. And of course, I bought a few favourite prints, which I finally got around to framing this week.

so many ornaments . . .

Okay, so having completed my Halloween tree, my mind turned naturally to ornaments for said tree. Invigorated by my tree-building success, I was eager to get started. But I had only nebulous ideas of what I wanted. Something creepy. But not too creepy. Something orange and black and white. But not too bright and cheery. And above all, something relatively easy to make. In other words, something that even I could do.

In search of inspiration, I turned to the magic of the internet. Link after link. Site after site. Image after image. And I found Halloween ornaments. An overwhelming array of Halloween ornaments. But . . .

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Some were too cute . . .

Some were too big . . .

Some were . . . just not quite what I had in mind . . .

Some were clearly beyond the scope of my creative talents . . .

And some just might work . . .

Thanks to fellow blogger Ghoul Friday for sending some ornament ideas my way. Her cookie cutter ornaments reminded me of Christmas ornaments I made once upon a time. Similar idea, different recipe. But they would be perfect. Time to get out the flour and salt.

the halloween tree

When my children were very young, they loved the idea of having Christmas trees in their bedrooms. A small tree for each of them to decorate with lights and with their own favourite ornaments. Why not? So off we went to the nearest Christmas tree retailer and returned with two miniature trees.

The trees were promptly erected and decorated and for years they stood proudly in their respective rooms, shining brightly throughout the holiday season, serving as night lights for their owners during the long dark weeks of December. New ornaments were added each year. Snowmen. Rudolph. Star Wars M&M's. The little trees seemed well on their way to becoming a lasting tradition.

But then, one year . . . the trees languished in their boxes a little longer than usual and when they did emerge, were not decorated with the usual fervour. New ornaments remained unopened, and some nights the lights were simply left dark. Finally, this past December, despite the best of intentions, it became clear that the little trees were no longer wanted. They had been relegated to the world of Christmas Past. But the story doesn't end there. No. In fact, that is only the beginning.

Faced with the task of disposing of the rejected trees, I took the only logical course of action. I turned them into a Halloween tree. For a couple of years now, a Halloween tree has appealed to me, but any time I encounter one for sale, it has a horrifying price tag hanging from it. So why not create my own. But how? Should I just leave them as they were and paint them black? And did I want really want two small trees or . . .

A brief attempt was made at joining the trees vertically to create one larger tree, but soon the realization set in that, despite bendable branches, I was on the road to disaster. And then I had another idea. I reached for my wire cutters. At this point, a voice in my head said, "Stop! Maybe you should plan first." Indeed, many projects have fallen victim to my 'cut first, think later' approach. So I drew a quick sketch of the sort of tree I had in mind. Then I picked up my wire cutters. Sadly, one of the trees was required to sacrifice itself for the enhancement of the other, but now they are united as one taller, stronger specimen. A little cutting here. A little twisting there. A little black paint everywhere. And Santa himself wouldn't recognize them.

So the two little trees, now joined as one, stand proudly once again, awaiting appropriate adornment. Which means my next project will obviously have to be tree ornaments. Star Wars M&M's and snowmen just don't seem suitable.

the Looney Tunes years

One of my (many) works-in-progress, and one that is finally nearing completion, is the digitization of my albums of old photographs. As time permits, I've been gradually scanning these years of memories and adding them to my folders of more recent digital photographs.

And eventually, I arrived at some old Halloween photographs . . .

So where am I in this photograph? Am I the brightly attired, deceptively cheerful, evil clown? No. Perhaps then I am one of the menacing trio in black? Nope. No, I am none other than Sylvester the cat, standing incongruously in the midst of this sinister-looking Halloween group.

I can't help but marvel at my choice of costume back then, particularly since I usually lean toward the creepier, more traditional costume choices. Witches. Vampires. Monsters. Sylvester? The choice of costume originated with a room-mate of mine that year who had some ability with a sewing machine and who was creating a Minnie Mouse costume for herself. It looked impressive, and when she offered to sew a costume for me, I was intrigued. There were patterns for other costumes (albeit smiley happy ones) and I picked one. And Sylvester the Halloween cat was born.

The costume had its advantages. It was certainly warm, at a time of year that can be frigid and blustery. And it was popular, widely admired and occasionally borrowed. And it didn't disappear after just one Halloween. No, Sylvester was a fixture at Halloween parties and events for several years, fitting in nicely with these clearly un-creepy groups of revellers. Perhaps it was their influence that kept Sylvester coming back.

Eventually, I returned to my traditional Halloween costume choices, where I have remained ever since. But the Sylvester costume will always have a special place in my heart. A reminder of a time I look back upon as the Looney Tunes years.

cylon-o-lantern

This weekend (last night at 11pm AST to be precise) after seven long months of waiting, Battlestar Galactica returned with the first of its final ten episodes. And it was truly a night for celebration. But what does that have to do with Halloween?

Well . . . in honour of its return, I am exploring the process involved in creating a Cylon jack-o-lantern. I knew I had seen one of these somewhere before and tracked it down at Evil Mad Scientist Laboratories. The entire process is conveniently outlined on the website.

It looked simple enough. It's just a pumpkin after all. Sharpie markers, pumpkin carving knives, zesters, tweezers . . . all of which I feel I could confidently handle. I even got past the early discussion of integrated circuits because they were introduced in such a friendly, non-threatening way. When I reached the section entitled Electronics, however, I felt the first wave of concern flood over me. And by the time I got to the phrase, "CD4017 decimal counter chip", my eyes had begun to glaze over. Needless to say, I didn't even make it to the wiring diagrams. A clever idea, certainly, but far, far, far beyond my abilities.

No, if I ever decide to bring some Battlestar Galactica into my Halloween celebrations (which, being a Halloween traditionalist, I likely never will), it would have to be a decidedly lower-tech approach. Maybe I could carve a hole in the bottom of the pumpkin, put my hand inside, and slowly move a red light back and forth . . . back and forth. It could work. In the meantime, I'm content to admire the talent of others.

retirement

Yard haunting is a relatively new experience for me. For many years, I lived in apartment buildings which had either no yard or one in which Halloween props would have been unwelcome. When I first entered the world of home ownership, my children were very, very young, and very sensitive, and I feared that the presence of menacing creatures lurking outside their front door might traumatize them for life. Sure, I could have gone the route of sugary-sweet Halloween decor: friendly ghosts, cheery monsters and the like . . . but where's the fun in that? So for years, my "yard haunt" consisted of jack-o-lanterns in the window or on the front step, along with the occasional non-threatening scarecrow.

Then, a few years ago, the Halloween stars aligned. I moved into a house with a great front porch, and my children were finally old enough to embrace the creepier side of Halloween (with the possible exception of spiders). It was time.

I started small, and as usual, tried to make something for (almost) nothing. Old costumes were called into action and the backyard shed was emptied of flowerpots, boards and various remnants left behind by the previous owners. But it wasn't enough. I needed more to work with. And then . . . good luck shone down upon me. In September, our region was hit by a Category 2 hurricane.

Among the casualties was a large spruce tree that had dominated our backyard. Down it came and its trunk was carved into stumps. Stumps that simply begged to find new purpose as the bodies of the witches I had been attemping to construct. They were perfect. And they had literally dropped in front of me. A few old cloaks and masks, and the porch witches were born.

(The early years.)

At first, they basked in the new-found attention, sitting proudly on their bench, grinning skeletally at passers-by, occasionally posing for photographs. With each passing year, they were joined by other . . . creatures. But they remained a haunt focal point. A tradition.

The haunt eventually grew off the porch and into the front yard and began to include more polished, more elaborate, and yes, better props. Still, the venerable old witches remained. Inevitably, comments like "Great witch!" gave way to "Oh yeah, those witches are there every year." It was becoming clear that the witches' glory days had faded and perhaps it was time for them to move on. While I certainly appreciate the importance of tradition, sometimes you just need to let go.

And so it is with mixed emotions that I send the porch witches off into a forced retirement, the first victims of my plan to build this year's haunt around a unifying theme (obviously not witches) and to introduce some fresh blood, figuratively of course. Retirement, however, need not be a permanent state. One day, in the grand tradition of Cher and Celine Dion, the porch witches may indeed return for a comeback performance.

(The witches in their off-season and now their retirement home.)

the healing power of Star Trek

Whenever I wake up with a headache that simply refuses to go away, as I did today, I turn first to natural remedies before resorting to medication. I like to follow a four-pronged approach: blanket, couch, tea, old TV shows on DVD. Actually, that isn't entirely true. Only my current unemployed state allows me to follow this natural approach in the middle of the day; otherwise, I'd be swallowing painkillers and trudging off to work through the cold slush and falling snow.

But today I had the luxury of indulging myself and, being a huge fan of the original series, I turned to the healing power of Star Trek. I own all of the seasons on DVD, which means I am not at the whim of whatever reruns the networks choose for my viewing pleasure. So, blanket in hand, I settled back on the couch with a hot cup of tea and put in Catspaw.

Star Trek isn't known for its holiday specials, but if ever there was a Halloween episode of Star Trek (and I don't think there was another one) this is it. The beginning is spookily atmospheric: swirling fog, ghostly apparitions, witches, black cats, skeletons, and a decidedly haunted-looking castle. Scotty, Sulu, and McCoy are zombified and references are made to Halloween and trick-or-treat. Kirk promises Spock an explanation of these concepts, but never delivers. Hopefully, poor bewildered Spock received an explanation off-camera. As the story unfolds, the Enterprise crew has been drawn to this gothic planet so that the aliens who inhabit it can use the crew's knowledge and abilities to experience "sensations" for themselves. All the talk about feelings and sensations leads of course to the inevitable love scene between Kirk and the female alien. Otherwise, this just would not be a Star Trek episode.

In the end, all turns out well for the crew (with the exception of the red-shirt who lost his life in the opening minutes). But that's the risk you take when you're a minor character in a red shirt. We are never given a reason for the aliens' choice of Halloween imagery in the creation of their artificial world. It likely had something to do with the episode originally airing a few days before Halloween. And that's a good enough reason for me.

And yes, by the end of the episode, my headache was gone, thanks to the magic of Star Trek . . . and perhaps those two extra-strength Advil I ended up taking.

para abnormal

I was introduced to Dave Lowe's web comics last October when he and I were both participants in the Halloween blog countdown. These are some of my personal favourites. The perfect antidote to a bitterly cold January day when Halloween seems very far away.

His website

His blog

the silver lining

Bleak, gloomy, fog-shrouded, dark . . . and it's not just the photograph.

Blame the economy, blame poor management, blame indifferent company leadership, the fact remains that I am presently jobless. And yes, it's certainly discouraging to lose a job, particularly at Christmas-time. And sure, it will be a challenge to deal with a reduction in income. And yes, it may be difficult, given the current state of the economy, to find another job, especially with the increased competition from all of those other newly-unemployed people out there. . .

But before I depress myself further, I'll move on to the silver lining. Because there is indeed a silver lining in this turn of events, as there is in many situations of despair. Yes, thanks to the sudden increase in free time, I'll be able to devote considerably more attention to one of my favourite pastimes: Halloween. No more trying to find time on weekends for prop construction. No more battling with family members for some computer time. No more feeling that there simply aren't enough hours in the day. Because suddenly, there are more hours than I know what to do with. More time to devote to fulfilling my Halloween resolutions. More time to check out the Halloween forums and websites. More time for generating new ideas, planning and building new props, creating a costume that doesn't look like it was thrown together in the waning daylight of October 31st. And more time of course for internet ramblings which seem to lead inevitably to E-bay (a dangerous place when you have no money to spend). But I digress . . .

Time now to make the most of that silver lining and get to work on some props. After all, my unemployment won't last forever, will it?

Halloween in January

Happiness is . . . stumbling upon premium Halloween candy on sale in January. Thanks Laura Secord.

zombie new year

"Okay, we need a cover idea for our first issue of the new year. You know, the issue that reflects on the highs and lows of 2008 and looks ahead to the events of the coming year. Hmmmm . . . now what image truly captures the spirit of a fresh new year? Newborn babies . . . a bright winter sunrise . . . resolution ideas . . . crisp new calendar pages? C'mon . . . brainstorm . . . brain-storm. Wait. I've got it! Zombies. Of course! Nothing says 'Happy New Year' like a zombie close-up on the cover. Brilliant."

Yes, it would seem that the folks at The Coast have moved on from the December holidays and are eagerly anticipating Halloween 2009. I anticipate a few letters to the editor in next week's issue.

halloween resolutions for 2009

I haven't made New Years resolutions in years. For the usual reasons. I think I've reached a plateau where attempts at self-improvement and good intentions are concerned. And yet . . . as I sit here in the early hours of New Years Day watching the snow pile up, hoping the power doesn't go out again, and roaming aimlessly around the internet encountering page after page of resolution-keeping advice . . . I think, why not? Perhaps I will make a few resolutions this year after all. Not the usual resolutions. No, they've proven to be dismal failures too many times. No, this year I will make (and perhaps even keep) Halloween resolutions.

So, with pen in hand . . . or with keyboard in front of me. Whatever. Here are my Halloween Resolutions for 2009 . . .

1] Create indoor props. In recent years I've spent my Halloween time and energy on outdoor props, beginning with my front porch and expanding into my yard. Meanwhile, my indoor decorations have consisted of a small (but growing) collection of candle holders and some tattered cheesecloth curtains. Pathetic. Soooo . . . this year I resolve to create more indoor props. Don't know what or how many yet. This is a resolution after all, not a strategic plan. That comes later. But if I can make them out of items destined for the garbage bin or random pieces of clutter I find around the house, my happiness will be complete.

2] Start earlier. Every year I feel like I'm getting an early start on my Halloween planning and prop-building. Some people who know me might even go so far as to say ridiculously early. Nevertheless, by the time the last week of October arrives, I'm in panic mode. And there's invariably something that doesn't get done or gets postponed to "next year". In 2009, therefore, I resolve to begin my Halloween preparations much earlier. Maybe tomorrow.

3] Develop a yard haunt theme. I love the idea of a unifying theme for a yard haunt. A colour, an image, a style of prop that pulls all of the elements together and creates a stunning impact. Alas, while my haunt tends to start this way, the best of intentions seem to go awry. New props are created, new ideas assert themselves, ambitious plans go up in flames (not literally, thankfully) and it all morphs into something more . . . eclectic. Yes, that's the word . . . eclectic. But this year . . . this year, I resolve to choose a theme for my haunt and, most importantly, I resolve to stick with the theme regardless of how many "better ideas" tempt me to stray.

4] Devote more time to the blog. I started this blog in the dying days of summer last year. Being new to the whole blogging experience (as is evident from some of the earliest posts) I decided it would be a seasonal blog devoted to Halloween. My reasoning was simple: if I ran out of blog-worthy topics or simply lost interest, chances are Halloween would have come and gone by then and I could just walk away. A project started and finished rather than tossed on a shelf somewhere . . . partly done. As it turned out, the reverse was true. I found myself with more topics than time. I've also noticed some of my fellow bloggers extending their love of Halloween throughout the year and this has served as inspiration. So, for my final resolution of 2009 . . . I resolve to devote more time to blog improvement. More posts. More often. Not every day of course (". . . that way lies madness . . . "). Let's just say "more often" and leave it at that.

Happy New Year.