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It’s A Hell Of A Halloween On Partridge Island

Sister Darling,

Of The Rarified Church of the World (reformed),

Leapt from a fishing boat,

Onto the dock of the

Partridge Island Lighthouse,

Wearing a large, silver cross

Around her neck.

“Isn’t that Papish?” I asked.

“We’re going to need all the help

“We can get,” she answered,

Looking around.

“Where’s Paw?”

Paw, the cat/kitten,

Black as Satan

With one white mitten,

Made his appearance

From the bushes beside the path.

“Hop on,” she patted her shoulder,

“If we ever needed a black cat,

“Tonight is the night.“

Paw sprang to her shoulder.

“To the point,” she said,

“To the tip of the Island.”

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“You know what’s the matter.”

She took the time to jab me in the chest.

“You’ve been feeling it,

“Heading toward us.“

It’s true – I have.

All Hallows’ Eve, 

With a ship of

Disparate and  dangerous souls,

On the tide coming toward us.

As we hastened toward the outer

Tip of the Island, in half the time

It would usually take,

We acquired a flock of chattering

Crows, making a number more 

Than any murder would demand. 

We reached the water

In the setting, slanting sun.

The crows flocked 

Over our heads, scaring

The seagulls away.

A full-rigged sailing ship,

Wrapped in streaming fog, 

Made its approach.

“We must enter the water.”

Paw did not take kindly to that,

But he stayed perched where he was.

Sister Darling walked out until

The ocean was at her knees.


“Stand thee behind me, poet,

We will share the cat.”

Paw had his front feet on her shoulder,

And his back feet on mine.

He ignored the circling crows.

Then Sister Darling said such prayers, 

That human beings are not supposed to hear.

She repeated them, yelling into the wind.

Even the crows fell silent.

Paw chattered and sputtered and mewed.

My own prayers fell like curses.

Sister Darling held her cross

In front of her like a shield.

The Ghost ship, which had risen

From Davy Jones’s locker,

On this night when the Dead roam,

Became shrouded in smoke and flame,

Its sails engulfed in fire.

Paw dug his claws into my shoulder

And howled.

The ship returned to the depths of the sea.

Sister Darling seemed near to fainting.

I held her close.

Paw, the cat/kitten, draped himself

Around her neck.

The crows went on their way.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2025 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report.  DE BA. UEL

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The Druids Prepare / The Dead Approach

The Celts  have learned every celebration has its risks.

The Druids taught them this, and the Druids are correct. Samhain is a festival of the harvest; the end of summer; the preparation for the winter to come. Samhain is a juncture. 

As they all know, junctures lead to sundry places. There is both the leaving and the coming. A time of disquiet. A time of danger for those unprepared.

It holds the magic and the power of midnight. Midnight is a powerful time because it is the juncture of two days. Midnight of Samhain thus holds double the power. It can not be avoided. It must be met with all the power mortal man can muster. It must not be met alone.

On the Eve of Samhain, the border between Life and the OtherWorld is breached. A door swings invitingly open, but it is not inviting those who live. It is inviting  those who have died. The Dead who still miss their lives. The long Dead who still are curious.The distant Dead who get a whiff of fresh air, and have their memories stirred.

So the Dead approach.

The Dead approach. The living must prepare to meet them, just as they prepare for the vicissitudes of winter. The same threatened cold holds sway over both. The living assemble the treats and threats that will assuage the longings of the Dead.

Because the living have a healthy fear of death, they equally wish to avoid the Dead. The Dead can prove to be envious, and attempt to relieve the living of their lives. Lanterns from the earth are hollowed out of turnips. Their light will guide the dead to safer places (safer for the living). Candles will shine through carved faces. Some faces are friendly and welcoming. Some are ugly and fierce, to give aggressive Dead a pause.

There will also be treats to entice the Dead – apples and pastries and savouries and some roasted game fresh from the bonfires. There will be ale and other spirits to keep the Spirits at bay. The living will wear costumes and masks to disguise themselves from those Dead who might wish their company to be more permanent.

They will remove the masks if the Spirits are friendly.

They will dance and sing and raise a right ruckus to entertain the Dead.

The boneyard is on the outskirts of town. Revellers approach with noise and caution. A bonfire is set. The moon hangs from the trees. The gated fence stands closed and latched. The living pause and watch. And listen.

Is it the wind, or do the hinges scrape the stone?

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A Ghost Story – True As True Can Be – To Lead To Halloween

A true story for All Hallows’ Eve, although it did not happen on Halloween.


And, I steal my title from the list of types of encounters with UFOs and Aliens from Space, where actual physical encounters result in injury or death. Admittedly, I experienced nothing but fright, but the touch is without question

.
  I was visiting the Bay of Fundy island of Grand Manan.

 I had booked a room in a bed and breakfast and arrived mid-evening. I went elsewhere for a meal, but did meet the owners, and noted there were a couple of others staying there. I returned around eleven, chatted to the owners and one guest, then went up to bed.

The room was top of the stairs and across a landing. Comfortably rustic with a radio. The bed was fine and I was not long getting to sleep.

  In the dead of the dark (no street lights here) I was awakened by the touch of hands on me. I was sleeping on my left side. One hand was over my groin and the other on my chest. There was also the weight of a body next to me and the pressure of an arm across my side.

I was initially surprised and confused but not frightened. Time probably stretched but it seems to me I lay like this for ten or fifteen seconds. Then, the very first coherent thought which came to me was that someone laying behind me could not have both arms over my body. There could not be two hands placed on the front of my body.

  I got out of bed very quickly and did indeed experience fear. I turned on the overhead light but saw nothing. I heard nothing. The temperature was not unusual. I was frightened and certainly uncomfortable, but I can’t say that that aura was present.

I went to the bathroom across the landing. The house was silent.

I returned to the bedroom, thinking both of leaving the light on and turning on the radio. But then I thought that that was just giving into fear, and might encourage the fear instead of ease it, so I did neither. I did not seem to take very long to get to sleep.  

The next morning I went downstairs for breakfast. I heard the owner talking to two other guests as I approached the kitchen.

Just as I entered she interrupted her conversation and turned to me. She said: “Let’s ask him. He’s the one sleeping in the haunted room.”  

I don’t know if they had been talking about ghosts or if something else had happened in the night. I relayed my experience and the owner then told the story of the house.

As with many buildings on the island it had been a farm house, with the owners also fishing. It was a century or more old and left to a daughter. When she herself got old and could not look after it, her family forced her to leave, something she fought against.

The present owners then bought the building and started taking in guests. However, whenever they attempted renovations, they were discouraged by having paint cans overturned, new wallpaper peeled from the wall, ladders moved, hammers and such hidden.

  The new owners’ daughter lived next door, and looked after the house when her parents went away (trips to Florida in the winter). She inevitably had to come over to the house and close doors, turn off lights, put furniture back in place.  

The old woman who was forced to leave had the reputation of being a mean and unpleasant person. I don’t know if she was taking a liking to me or not.

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Halloween Turns Mean On All Hallows

I knew this was going to happen.
I know the old ways,
From the old Days.
Halloween, All Hallows,

The Ghosts and Witches and maybe

Demons 
Take offence when 
They are thwarted.
This All Hallows
They are thwarted by the
Full of the moon,
Which starts to fade before
Their night of freedom.
They want the light to see
The damnable deviltry
They let loose, 
Upon the Living and the Dead.
Paw, my cat/kitten
Black as sin
With one white mitten.
Knows it also.
He refuses to accompany me
On my last tending of the Lighthouse light.
So I asked Sister Darling,
Of The Rarified Church of the World (reformed)
To accompany me.
It is the very reason 
I have implored her,
To visit me on Partridge Island
This usurped night of Samhain.
As well she knows, since she has
Given me warnings in words,
The way Paw has in deeds,
To tend to these eldrich going-ons
Brought in by the ocean tides.
We are quick to my business
And hear the rustle of the curtain
Between this life and the next,

Every time the Lighthouse light
Blinks off.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

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#PitDark Horror Tales In Time For Halloween

“Darkroom” is made for #PitDark. Norman does not like people who offend him. Norman is easily offended. Norman’s solution is to become a serial killer. He is excellent at his task. Time after time after time.

*************

#PitDark They seek him here. They seek him there. They seek Satan everywhere. And they find him, time and time again. And do what they can to stop him in “There Has Been A Sighting” They have some success

*************

A Time awaits a world destined for punishment since man first walked upright. A decision must be made to remove all life. Who makes this judgment? In “The Fifth Corner Of The Earth” the decision is reached by five people fated to do so through their heredity. #PitDark

*************

Don’t let Satan deceive.Evil is everywhere.Weight of years isn’t necessary for the work of Satan, but Time deepens his imprint. My characters travel the world, attempting to erase the impact of Satan. In “Places of Evil”sometimes they succeed.#PitDark

*************

During bad times, Satan offers twisted salvation. When the offerings stop being subtle, no place is safe.”There Has Been A Sighting” keeps the supernatural one step ahead of the natural. What my human characters find is horrific. What they achieve is stunning #PitDark

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The Ghost Ship Under Full Sail And Flaming On Halloween

As the Lighthouse Keeper

On Partridge Island

I see a lot,

Whether I want to or not.

And I’ve seen her before,

The Flaming Ghost ship,

On the dread of All Hallows.

But you never really know.

But this time,

Paw, my cat/kitten

Black as Satan

With one white mitten,

Saw her too.

And didn’t like what he saw.

But he’s a brave soul,

And didn’t leave my side.

So we stayed in the Tower,

And watched from the windows,

The light circling behind us.

The flames coming from the dark,

Full sails, all unfurled,

And all ravaged by flames

That never burned out.

And the deck,

And the gunwales

From prow to stern,

And the sailors.

Those poor lads,

Never consumed

As the full-of-flame ship

Passed the mouth of the harbour.

And what could I do,

But touch the life that was Paw,

Feel his fur, and his breath,

With one hand,

While I made a shaky

Sign of the Cross,

On my chest.

With the other.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report

0

A True, Honest-to-God Ghost Story That Really Happened

I experienced nothing but fright, but the touch is without question

.
  I was visiting the Bay of Fundy island of Grand Manan.

 I had booked a room in a bed and breakfast and arrived mid-evening. I went elsewhere for a meal, but did meet the owners, and noted there were a couple of others staying there. I returned around eleven, chatted to the owners and one guest, then went up to bed.

The room was top of the stairs and across a landing. Comfortably rustic with a radio. The bed was fine and I was not long getting to sleep.

  In the dead of the dark (no street lights here) I was awakened by the touch of hands on me. I was sleeping on my left side. One hand was over my groin and the other on my chest. There was also the weight of a body next to me and the pressure of an arm across my side.

I was initially surprised and confused but not frightened. Time probably stretched but it seems to me I lay like this for ten or fifteen seconds. Then, the very first coherent thought which came to me was that someone laying behind me could not have both arms over my body. There could not be two hands placed on the front of my body.

  I got out of bed very quickly and did indeed experience fear. I turned on the overhead light but saw nothing. I heard nothing. The temperature was not unusual. I was frightened and certainly uncomfortable, but I can’t say that that aura was present.

I went to the bathroom across the landing. The house was silent.

I returned to the bedroom, thinking both of leaving the light on and turning on the radio. But then I thought that that was just giving into fear, and might encourage the fear instead of ease it, so I did neither. I did not seem to take very long to get to sleep.  

The next morning I went downstairs for breakfast. I heard the owner talking to two other guests as I approached the kitchen.

Just as I entered she interrupted her conversation and turned to me. She said: “Let’s ask him. He’s the one sleeping in the haunted room.”  

I don’t know if they had been talking about ghosts or if something else had happened in the night. I relayed my experience and the owner then told the story of the house.

As with many buildings on the island it had been a farm house, with the owners also fishing. It was a century or more old and left to a daughter. When she herself got old and could not look after it, her family forced her to leave, something she fought against.

The present owners then bought the building and started taking in guests. However, whenever they attempted renovations, they were discouraged by having paint cans overturned, new wallpaper peeled from the wall, ladders moved, hammers and such hidden.

  The new owners’ daughter lived next door, and looked after the house when her parents went away (trips to Florida in the winter). She inevitably had to come over to the house and close doors, turn off lights, put furniture back in place.  

The old woman who was forced to leave had the reputation of being a mean and unpleasant person. I don’t know if she was taking a liking to me or not.

0

The Dead At Sea Are Not Happy Ghosts For Halloween (It’s just around the corner)

I can see my hand

In the fog,

And

The building,

Across the street.

That is about all.

So, I know

The ghosts,

Are not

As close

As they sound.

The Ghosts sound like Fog Horns

And that’s what folk

Up

And down

The coast

Say

That they are.

Fog Horns.

But – they aren’t.

They are ghosts that moan,

And wail,

And cough,

And even

Sputter,

On the wind,

In the fog,

Where they can hide

Out in the open.

It is true that they do moan

For ships.

That they do give warnings

In the fog,

Where they can not

Be seen,

Because they look

Like fog.

They give warnings

Because

They have all come

From ships,

Where once they lived.

But now they don’t.

They went down with ships

At sea

And

Along the coast

To their

Cold and wet

Death.

Days ago

Years ago

Centuries ago.

To be buried at sea

Is not

To be buried

At all.

~ D.E. BA U.E.

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Warnings From The Dead Who Do Not Wish Us Well On Halloween

On Partridge Island,


On Halloween,


This Lighthouse keeper


And his cat/kitten,


Black as the night


With one white mitten,


Named

(would you guess it}


Paw,


Will stay put,


Except to check the Light.


For the night is neither


Calm nor inviting.


To humans

And cat/kittens.


But the Dead,


The Souls,


The restless Spirits.


Oh,


You can feel their oppression,


From one end


Of the Island


To the other.


And the revolving Light,


From atop


Its solid Tower,


Gives them no peace.


They want to come back.


They want things as they were.


These are the poor


Spirits


Who left,


Unfulfilled.


I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / (A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

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