Category Archives: Photographs

A Halloween Tale

In keeping with the spooky atmosphere of the evening, I give you one of my short stories. The cemetery I based this story around is located just west of my hometown.

I chose the particular headstone because it’s set off by itself on a bit of a hill surrounded by trees.

I hope you enjoy this seasonal story.

A Halloween Tale

by

Melanie Robertson-King

Brian and Emily climbed off their bicycles outside a large three-storey, red brick house in the west end of the city. A huge sign bearing a griffin and the words Bed and Breakfast hung from a post in the front yard. “Is this the place, Em?” he asked.

“I think so,” she replied, sliding her heavy rucksack off. She dug into its small outside pocket and pulled out the confirmation e-mail. Scanning it, she looked at the house and sign. “Yes. We’re here.”

Emily slung her pack over one shoulder. They walked their bikes to the side of the house and leaned them against the wall before going to the front door. Just as Emily reached out to ring the bell, the inside door opened. Startled, she jumped back.

“You must be Brian and Emily. I’ve been expecting you,” the grey-haired, bespectacled woman said, craning her neck to see past them. “How did you get here? I don’t see a car.”

“Bicycles,” Brian answered.

“Come in, you must be exhausted. Your room is this way.”

Holding hands, the young couple followed the proprietor to their room.

“Here you are,” she said, opening the door. “I serve breakfast from seven to nine o’clock. You’re on your own for lunches and suppers but there are a number of places to get a good meal further along into town.”

“Thank you, Mrs. … ” Brian began.

“Griffin. Miriam Griffin.”

Meanwhile, Emily had walked to the window and was looking out at the street below. “We passed a couple of cemeteries just west of here,” she commented, turning to face Brian and their hostess. “What can you tell us about them?”

The woman’s face suddenly went pale. “Y-you don’t want to be going to the cemetery on the south side of the road,” she stammered. “Rumour has it, it’s haunted.”

“We do. I think my ancestors are buried there and that’s why we came. We’re doing a bit of genealogical research and want to take some rubbings of the family stones and photograph them for the book we’re writing.”

“If you think you must go there, go early in the day so that you’re away from there well before dark.”

Emily dropped onto the bed and ran her hand over the white duvet. “Tell us more. This sounds intriguing.”

“Well, it was 200 years ago this Halloween that young Emily McPherson disappeared. My, but your name is Emily, too, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Please go on.”

Brian sat down on the bed and put his arm around Emily’s shoulders.

“The story goes that a young girl lost her fiancé – a soldier – in a tragic accident in the early part of the war of 1812. His ship was carrying a load of explosives and it blew up. Everyone on board was killed.”

“What does that have to do with the cemetery?” Emily prodded.

“Well, they say she visited his grave every day until she disappeared and was there as always when a terrible storm blew up and folks never saw hide nor hair of her again. But before she vanished, a blood curdling scream was heard over the thunder – and then nothing. Just silence. The storm cleared as quickly as it had formed and Emily was gone. Alarmed by the terrible scream that came from the direction of the cemetery, some men sprang into action. When they reached the grave where the poor, bereft young woman spent most of her time, she was gone. No sign of a struggle. No sign that she had been dragged off – just the bluish glow that surrounded the headstone. From that night on, no one had ever set foot in that corner of the cemetery. You see why it’s imperative that you’re out of there before dark.”

“What a tragic, yet romantic story. We must find that grave, Brian,” Emily said, her eyes sparkling.

“We will but tomorrow after breakfast. Today, we scope out the town.” Brian stood and helped Emily up from the bed. “Thank you for sharing that, Mrs. Griffin. Em, here, well she’s a sucker for a cemetery and a love story,” he said squeezing her shoulders.

***

Out on the street, Emily wrapped her arms around Brian’s waist. “I wish we didn’t have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Come on, Em. If anything untoward is going to happen in that cemetery, it will be tomorrow on the actual anniversary. Not today.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she muttered.

Brian took her hand and they walked towards the town’s centre, stopping first at the local museum where the genealogical society’s archives were housed.

Emily scanned the floor to ceiling shelves lined with books, binders, maps and the society’s own publications. If the McPherson girl’s disappearance were such a big deal, then there had to be something written about it. She found a binder of newspaper clippings dating back to the beginning of 1812, sat down at one of the tables and flipped through it. Emily found the article about the explosion and couldn’t believe how much detail had been included on the crews’ injuries. Still, she took the page from the binder and made a photocopy. A few pages later, she found the other piece including a photo of the alleged haunted grave. halloweenWhile she looked through newspaper clippings, Brian busied himself with the old maps. When Emily photocopied the second article, two older women came down the stairs. They spoke in hushed tones about the anniversary of the McPherson girl’s disappearance.
Having the information she wanted, Emily and Brian left the museum and went to a nearby pub for a late lunch. Over a pint and burger, they shared their findings.

“According to the one article, Emily got engaged on June 1st and her fiancé was killed on June 2nd,” she said, taking a sip of beer.

The longer they stayed in the pub, the more uncomfortable Emily became. She felt as if she were being compared to the long-since missing girl. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, “these people are creeping me out.”

“If you want,” Brian replied, picking up his pint and draining the last of it.

After leaving the pub, they wandered in and out of some of the more eclectic stores on the main street. In a second-hand shop, Emily bought a cherry amber pendant. While she fastened the clasp, another young couple entered the shop, talking about the cemetery. They say that grave is haunted. Emily overheard. Yeah, I know. Even in the daylight people don’t go near it.

When Brian and Emily returned to the Bed and Breakfast, she emptied the contents of her rucksack onto the bed ensuring she had everything she needed for the next day. Camera, extra batteries, blank newsprint, and charcoal sticks in a baggie. She added the photocopies to the essentials and repacked her bag.

***

At breakfast the following morning, Mrs. Griffin begged them to reconsider visiting the cemetery. “It’s just all of the talk about how the poor girl vanished and this being the 200th anniversary,” she moaned, wringing her hands.

“We’re leaving as soon as we’re finished breakfast so will be back long before it gets dark,” Brian reassured her. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll stop here before we go to supper.”
Emily slipped on her leather riding gloves and heaved her rucksack onto her back. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back late this afternoon.” Pausing by the front door, Emily turned back. “Bye, Mrs Griffin. We’ll see you later,” she called cheerily as they exited.

It took about five minutes to reach the cemetery’s entrance. After dismounting, they walked their bikes along the narrow road and parked them against a tree near the river. Emily took her camera out and shot a few wide angle shots of the area for comparison later on.
Since they hadn’t gotten away from the Bed and Breakfast as early as they would have liked, Emily decided they should split up in order to cover twice as much territory. She gave Brian some of the sheets of newsprint and a couple of the charcoal crayons. He had a small point and shoot camera so could photograph the stones as well as take rubbings.

A row of white stones, beginning with two substantial ones followed by smaller ones caught Emily’s eye and she walked to them. It appeared to be an entire family – parents, and their ten children. She carefully photographed each one planning on looking into the family at a later date. Emily glanced over her shoulder and saw that Brian had worked his way out to an older section near the highway.

Walking along the narrow road, Emily spotted a flight of stone steps leading to an area sheltered by trees. As she climbed them, she noticed a small headstone next to a bathtub-like sarcophagus. Then she looked up onto the rock about four feet higher than the ground where she stood. A solitary monument occupied the space. Emily pulled the newspaper articles out of her rucksack. This headstone matched the one in the photocopy. The thick canopy of oak, pine, and maple trees kept the area in darkness even at his time of day. A gust of wind rustled through the tree tops overhead and a leaf fluttered to the ground, landing on the carpet of brightly coloured autumn leaves. What was once a stately oak tree stood guard over the site; its trunk and remaining branch denuded of bark and pocked with woodpecker holes.

HalloweenUp close, the headstone didn’t look menacing. Emily walked around it, feeling its roughness under her fingertips, and read the inscription which told the sad tale of a young man who lost his life tragically in a ship’s explosion. She photographed the inscription.

“Brian, come quick,” Emily yelled. She turned and waved her arms to get his attention. “I think I’ve found the haunted monument!”

He looked up and waved back but made no attempt to approach.

When he didn’t respond a second time to her calls, she scampered off the rock, pausing to take more photos then ran to him, stumbling over the uneven ground. Breathless when she reached Brian, Emily found it difficult to tell him she had found the headstone of the young soldier.

“You’ll remember where it was, Em? I’d like to get some rubbings of the stones in this section. Let me finish up here and we’ll head over,” Brian answered. He pulled Emily close and kissed her forehead.

Another stone with a worn but interesting inscription soon held their interest and they became engrossed in it – Emily with her camera and Brian with the newsprint and charcoal. They were so preoccupied that they didn’t notice the skies darkening.

HalloweenNot wanting to leave without a final visit to the haunted grave, Emily ran off towards it, Brian following close behind. It was dusk when they reached the location. As they drew nearer, the hairs on the back of Emily’s neck stood on end.

Suddenly, the sky turned pitch black. Not even the glow of the city’s streetlights could be seen. Emily couldn’t see Brian, yet they were only arms length apart. A brilliant flash of lightning and a simultaneous, deafening clap of thunder frightened Emily and she screamed. The pungent smell of ozone filled the air. The headstone now bathed in that ominous bluish glow, made her entire body tingle.

***

The next day, once it was realized they had failed to come back to the Bed and Breakfast the night before, a search party went to the cemetery to look for them. Just as it was when Emily McPherson disappeared all those years ago, there were no signs of a struggle, no signs of the young couple at all. But at the base of the stone, one of the searchers found a pendant – the same one the young woman was last seen wearing when she and her partner left for the cemetery. On the back was an inscription which read, ‘to my Emily June 1st, 1812. All my love BW’. The searchers looked at each other incredulously, then at the headstone. BW – Brian Wolfe. Were these two young people the ghosts of Emily and Brian?

Happy Halloween!halloween

#Scotland 2015 Day 17 – Bankend to Glasgow Airport

#Scotland 2015 – Sept 27, 2015

This was our last ‘full’ day in Scotland. The beautiful weather was a direct contrast to how we were feeling. The only thing we knew this morning is that we didn’t want to go to the hotel via the A74(M).

Glasgow
Along the A76 north of Thornhill

When we were stopped to take photos near Mennock, we decided that we had time to go visit our friends who live at Quarriers Village.

Glasgow
Along the A76 between Mennock and Sanquhar
Glasgow
Along the A76 between Mennock and Sanquhar

Lucky us, we ended up behind a farm tractor at Lochwinnoch and were stuck behind him the rest of the way to the village. Well, not quite all of the way. We were close enough that the bell tower on the church was visible so the first road to the right, I turned down it. Anything to get away from the tractor.

From this road, we got an excellent view of the three former consumption sanatoria buildings – now converted to luxury flats and surrounded with new housing. Unfortunately, there wasn’t an opportunity to pull over and take photos. But, you can see what we saw from this image from google street views.

We had a lovely surprise visit with our friends. They had things to do later that afternoon so we didn’t get to stay long but it was still great to see them – even for just a short time.

Things in the village have changed considerably since our last visit there. Double yellow lines and speed bumps (I believe they’re called ramps) on the streets. The bridge over the Gotter Water has finally been repaired (gone is the Bailey bridge and traffic lights at either end that had been there for years). The church where we renewed our vows in 2000 for our 25th wedding anniversary has also been converted to flats. The peaceful atmosphere that once enveloped the village is no longer there which is sad.

We said our goodbyes and promised that next time we would ‘warn’ them ahead of our impending visit so they could run off and hide… LOL!

Since we had papers and bags and such loose on the floor in the back seat of the car, we stopped in Bridge of Weir and gathered everything up into a couple of bags, put my cameras back in their case so when we returned the rental car, we wouldn’t have to do it all then.

The only confusion we had when we returned the car, was we were never given an updated rental agreement. We still had the original one for the Ford Focus we were supposed to have. According to the guy there, we shouldn’t have had to pay the extra to upgrade to the larger Vauxhall Astra Estate because it was their idea to give us a bigger vehicle.

We always get the CDW (collision damage waiver) so once we gave him the rental agreement, we didn’t have to stick around. We were free to leave – okay after the aforementioned confusion was cleared up. Hubby got a cart and we loaded our bags onto it and trundled through the carpark and to the hotel.

Because of the convenience of dropping our rented vehicle off and the proximity of the hotel to the airport, we always spend our last night here. In the past, our flights left early in the morning so it was nice to only have to ‘stagger’ across five lanes of traffic to get into the airport terminal.

Glasgow
Our room at the Holiday Inn, Glasgow Airport
Glasgow
Our room at the Holiday Inn, Glasgow Airport

As has become habit over the years, the first order of business once we’re settled (and me taking pictures), we rearrange the suitcases so that they’re as close to equal weight as we can get and preferably below the limit. We’d booked Option Plus so had an extra 10 kg weight allowance per bag which is a good thing since both were over the 20 kg limit.

Once that chore was completed, we went for a walk through the airport and around the ‘block’ before returning to the hotel where we had supper and drinks in the bar before going back to our room.

#Scotland 2015 Day 11 – Broughty Ferry

#Scotland 2015 – Sept 21, 2015

Other than when we first arrived in Scotland on 12th September, this was the first day we had rain – heavy rain. After breakfast, we grabbed our umbrellas and walked to Broughty Castle Museum which was closed for the day when we arrived here on the 19th from Kennethmont.

#Scotland
Looking towards the Tay Bridge and Dundee
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Swan finishing preening in the rain

There were a number of interesting artifacts and displays housed in the museum over the three floors that were open to the public and we were able to leave our dripping umbrellas downstairs inside the door to the castle.

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Drawbridge at Broughty Castle
#Scotland
Drawbridge counterweights inside the wall at Broughty Castle

After our tour we went for a walk along the Esplanade for a short distance before turning around and walking back to Fisher Street and eventually, our hotel room.

#Scotland
RNLI Elizabeth of Glamis Trent class lifeboat
#Scotland
Broughty Ferry lifeboat station

I mean, there’s only so much you can do on a rainy day. Our original plan was to spend part of today with nearby family, but that fell through so we were left at odds as to what to do. We’d done the planes, trains and automobiles thing so decided to add bus to our modes of transport used and hopped one to where we could purchase a golf hat for the guy who administers hubby’s cancer treatments (after all, you have to keep him sweet so he’s good to you). I had only ever used a ‘transit’ bus once in Scotland and that was back in 1993 to go from the Guild Street station in Aberdeen out to the airport at Dyce. For that trip, I had to have the exact change.

This trip, shortly after we sat down, a ‘clippie’ was there to collect our fare. Exact fare wasn’t needed but no doubt appreciated. It cost £4.30 each way for both of us, which was very reasonable, we thought.

Our shopping trip completed, we caught the next bus back to Broughty Ferry. On the way, the rain started again and at one point, it teemed so hard and the windows steamed so much that we could hardly see. At least the driver could and he was the one who mattered.

When we returned to Broughty Ferry, the rain had stopped but it was still quite overcast. We got off the bus at the Post Office Bar stop and walked back in the direction of the railway station. I thought I had seen a bank with a cashpoint but I hadn’t. Looking down Gray Street, I spied the familiar Clydesdale Bank logo so we went there so we could get some cash. Of course, after we stopped here we saw all kinds of banks along Brook Street.

I had picked up a City Centre Walk brochure earlier at the museum so took a good look at it when we went back to our room. While we were there, it cleared up and the sun came back out. We picked up the cameras and out we went again – this time to capture images of some of the locations in the brochure.

#Scotland
Broughty Ferry Library
#Scotland
The lodge for the former Carbet Castle
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Broughty Ferry Railway Station
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Tiled entrance at 329 Brook Street
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The Ship Inn
#Scotland
Barometer Cottage

As much as we both like old graveyards, we never did find this one, although towards the end of the day we got close. By now we knew that you had to get the key from the Ship Inn but we’d not seen this sign along the street before.

#Scotland
Sign for the Old Burial Ground in Broughty Ferry

There were other people milling about in the area and when an older woman came along and unlocked the high gate, we thought all our Christmases had come at once. Unfortunately, this only led to her garden but if you look in the Google street view below, you can see a stone wall in behind there and another one behind it. Sure as anything, that’s where the old burial ground is.

We had already determined that we would stay in Broughty Ferry again and at the same hotel. So between now and then, I’ll be doing some more digging and printing directions and other pertinent information for us to have with us. I’d say sending it to our phones, but that only works when you have data on your phone, or can find a wi-fi hotspot.

Broughty Ferry – we’ll be back!

The Face in the Stones – REVEALED

It’s only recently, I saw the face in the stones in this photograph. I guarantee that once you see it, you won’t be able to “un-see” it every time you see the picture. It’s even visible in the older version of the photograph that’s the header photo for my blog.

stones
The photo from the earlier post
stones
Now with the face outlined

This stone circle, located in rural Aberdeenshire, Scotland, features in my debut novel – A Shadow in the Past – and its not yet published sequel – Shadows From Her Past.

This type of stone circle, known as a recumbent stone circle, is unique to Aberdeenshire. You can find out more about them here.

I’ve visited a number of stone circles in Scotland but I’ve never seen a face in them before.

Interesting? Creepy? What do you think?

Family Photos

We all have them – new ones, old ones, colour ones, black and white ones. Maybe in albums, maybe in boxes, maybe both.

Recently, while looking for two or three specific photos for another blog post (which I did find), I came across this one of my parents and thought why not scan it at the same time?

photos
My parents

This square photo had a white border around it, albeit yellowed but there was no date stamped on it. Back in the day, when they came back from the lab after processing pictures almost always had the three letter abbreviation for the month and the last two digits of the year stamped on the border – usually on the side.

My guess is this one was taken in the 1950s possibly before 1956.

photos
My parents

My Epson scanner has a colour restoration feature. Click the box before or after you do the scan and you can see the difference on the computer screen.

I don’t always like using this feature. I think an ‘aged’ photograph has more character. But in this case, I thought it was worth saving both versions of the photo. In the lower picture, my mum’s suit is bluer and my dad’s shirt is whiter.

What do you think? Colour restore your yellowed photos when you scan them or leave them be?

 

 

Photos and such…

This was first posted on Feb 26, 2011.

I posted a photo of my grandfather and his first wife that was taken presumably on their wedding day a few years ago. I’m reposting it along with two more from the family archives.

photos
Grandpa John Robertson with his first wife, Susan Christie

This photo was definitely taken in a studio setting and judging by their clothing and the way her hair is styled, it had to be a special occasion. Hence, the thought of it being a wedding photograph.

Grandpa Robertson was born in 1856 and married for the first time 20 years later. And yes, that is my grandfather, not great-grandfather or great-great-grandfather.

After looking carefully at the photo for a few minutes, close your eyes and imagine it in full colour, an oil painting of huge proportions… 6 ft by 8 ft (or larger still) and it’s hanging on a rich oak panelled wall. Can you visualize it in that setting?

That’s where it is in my novel. This is the Laird and Lady of Weetshill on their wedding day.

In my novel, the old Laird looks much more like this…

photos
Grandpa Robertson as an old man

This photograph of an older Grandpa Robertson was taken some time before his death in 1930. I’m thinking maybe between 1915 (the year my grandmother-his second wife) and 1917 (the year my father and four of his nine siblings were admitted to The Orphan Homes of Scotland). By that time, he’d had a stroke with loss of memory and was unable to keep up the farm.

This is how I envision the hero’s grandfather. White-haired, balding, mustache and beard.

The old Laird in my novel also walks with a cane.

And finally this photograph from the archives…

photos
Peter, Robert and Angus Robertson

This photo was taken on my Uncle Angus’s wedding day in Scotland. My father (Robert) was serving overseas with the Stormont, Dundas and Glengarry Highlanders at the time but was able to get leave to go back to Scotland for the occasion. It would have been the last time my father saw his brothers.

Now there’s no mistaking the men in this photo are related but look closely at the young man in the first photo, the old man in the second one and lastly (mostly Robert) the men in this photo. Perhaps, a natural progression of how my hero will age?

A Halloween Tale

In keeping with the spooky atmosphere of the evening, I give you one of my short stories. I hope you enjoy it.

A Halloween Tale

by

Melanie Robertson-King

Brian and Emily climbed off their bicycles outside a large three-storey, red brick house in the west end of the city. A huge sign bearing a griffin and the words Bed and Breakfast hung from a post in the front yard. “Is this the place, Em?” he asked.

“I think so,” she replied, sliding her heavy rucksack off. She dug into its small outside pocket and pulled out the confirmation e-mail. Scanning it, she looked at the house and sign. “Yes. We’re here.”

Emily slung her pack over one shoulder. They walked their bikes to the side of the house and leaned them against the wall before going to the front door. Just as Emily reached out to ring the bell, the inside door opened. Startled, she jumped back.

“You must be Brian and Emily. I’ve been expecting you,” the grey-haired, bespectacled woman said, craning her neck to see past them. “How did you get here? I don’t see a car.”

“Bicycles,” Brian answered.

“Come in, you must be exhausted. Your room is this way.”

Holding hands, the young couple followed the proprietor to their room.

“Here you are,” she said, opening the door. “I serve breakfast from seven to nine o’clock. You’re on your own for lunches and suppers but there are a number of places to get a good meal further along into town.”

“Thank you, Mrs. … ” Brian began.

“Griffin. Miriam Griffin.”

Meanwhile, Emily had walked to the window and was looking out at the street below. “We passed a couple of cemeteries just west of here,” she commented, turning to face Brian and their hostess. “What can you tell us about them?”

The woman’s face suddenly went pale. “Y-you don’t want to be going to the cemetery on the south side of the road,” she stammered. “Rumour has it, it’s haunted.”

“We do. I think my ancestors are buried there and that’s why we came. We’re doing a bit of genealogical research and want to take some rubbings of the family stones and photograph them for the book we’re writing.”

“If you think you must go there, go early in the day so that you’re away from there well before dark.”

Emily dropped onto the bed and ran her hand over the white duvet. “Tell us more. This sounds intriguing.”

“Well, it was 200 years ago this Halloween that young Emily McPherson disappeared. My, but your name is Emily, too, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Please go on.”

Brian sat down on the bed and put his arm around Emily’s shoulders.

“The story goes that a young girl lost her fiancé – a soldier – in a tragic accident in the early part of the war of 1812. His ship was carrying a load of explosives and it blew up. Everyone on board was killed.”

“What does that have to do with the cemetery?” Emily prodded.

“Well, they say she visited his grave every day until she disappeared and was there as always when a terrible storm blew up and folks never saw hide nor hair of her again. But before she vanished, a blood curdling scream was heard over the thunder – and then nothing. Just silence. The storm cleared as quickly as it had formed and Emily was gone. Alarmed by the terrible scream that came from the direction of the cemetery, some men sprang into action. When they reached the grave where the poor, bereft young woman spent most of her time, she was gone. No sign of a struggle. No sign that she had been dragged off – just the bluish glow that surrounded the headstone. From that night on, no one had ever set foot in that corner of the cemetery. You see why it’s imperative that you’re out of there before dark.”

“What a tragic, yet romantic story. We must find that grave, Brian,” Emily said, her eyes sparkling.

“We will but tomorrow after breakfast. Today, we scope out the town.” Brian stood and helped Emily up from the bed. “Thank you for sharing that, Mrs. Griffin. Em, here, well she’s a sucker for a cemetery and a love story,” he said squeezing her shoulders.

***

Out on the street, Emily wrapped her arms around Brian’s waist. “I wish we didn’t have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Come on, Em. If anything untoward is going to happen in that cemetery, it will be tomorrow on the actual anniversary. Not today.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she muttered.

Brian took her hand and they walked towards the town’s centre, stopping first at the local museum where the genealogical society’s archives were housed.

Emily scanned the floor to ceiling shelves lined with books, binders, maps and the society’s own publications. If the McPherson girl’s disappearance were such a big deal, then there had to be something written about it. She found a binder of newspaper clippings dating back to the beginning of 1812, sat down at one of the tables and flipped through it. Emily found the article about the explosion and couldn’t believe how much detail had been included on the crews’ injuries. Still, she took the page from the binder and made a photocopy. A few pages later, she found the other piece including a photo of the alleged haunted grave. halloweenWhile she looked through newspaper clippings, Brian busied himself with the old maps. When Emily photocopied the second article, two older women came down the stairs. They spoke in hushed tones about the anniversary of the McPherson girl’s disappearance.
Having the information she wanted, Emily and Brian left the museum and went to a nearby pub for a late lunch. Over a pint and burger, they shared their findings.

“According to the one article, Emily got engaged on June 1st and her fiancé was killed on June 2nd,” she said, taking a sip of beer.

The longer they stayed in the pub, the more uncomfortable Emily became. She felt as if she were being compared to the long-since missing girl. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, “these people are creeping me out.”

“If you want,” Brian replied, picking up his pint and draining the last of it.

After leaving the pub, they wandered in and out of some of the more eclectic stores on the main street. In a second-hand shop, Emily bought a cherry amber pendant. While she fastened the clasp, another young couple entered the shop, talking about the cemetery. They say that grave is haunted. Emily overheard. Yeah, I know. Even in the daylight people don’t go near it.

When Brian and Emily returned to the Bed and Breakfast, she emptied the contents of her rucksack onto the bed ensuring she had everything she needed for the next day. Camera, extra batteries, blank newsprint, and charcoal sticks in a baggie. She added the photocopies to the essentials and repacked her bag.

***

At breakfast the following morning, Mrs. Griffin begged them to reconsider visiting the cemetery. “It’s just all of the talk about how the poor girl vanished and this being the 200th anniversary,” she moaned, wringing her hands.

“We’re leaving as soon as we’re finished breakfast so will be back long before it gets dark,” Brian reassured her. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll stop here before we go to supper.”
Emily slipped on her leather riding gloves and heaved her rucksack onto her back. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back late this afternoon.” Pausing by the front door, Emily turned back. “Bye, Mrs Griffin. We’ll see you later,” she called cheerily as they exited.

It took about five minutes to reach the cemetery’s entrance. After dismounting, they walked their bikes along the narrow road and parked them against a tree near the river. Emily took her camera out and shot a few wide angle shots of the area for comparison later on.
Since they hadn’t gotten away from the Bed and Breakfast as early as they would have liked, Emily decided they should split up in order to cover twice as much territory. She gave Brian some of the sheets of newsprint and a couple of the charcoal crayons. He had a small point and shoot camera so could photograph the stones as well as take rubbings.

A row of white stones, beginning with two substantial ones followed by smaller ones caught Emily’s eye and she walked to them. It appeared to be an entire family – parents, and their ten children. She carefully photographed each one planning on looking into the family at a later date. Emily glanced over her shoulder and saw that Brian had worked his way out to an older section near the highway.

Walking along the narrow road, Emily spotted a flight of stone steps leading to an area sheltered by trees. As she climbed them, she noticed a small headstone next to a bathtub-like sarcophagus. Then she looked up onto the rock about four feet higher than the ground where she stood. A solitary monument occupied the space. Emily pulled the newspaper articles out of her rucksack. This headstone matched the one in the photocopy. The thick canopy of oak, pine, and maple trees kept the area in darkness even at his time of day. A gust of wind rustled through the tree tops overhead and a leaf fluttered to the ground, landing on the carpet of brightly coloured autumn leaves. What was once a stately oak tree stood guard over the site; its trunk and remaining branch denuded of bark and pocked with woodpecker holes.

HalloweenUp close, the headstone didn’t look menacing. Emily walked around it, feeling its roughness under her fingertips, and read the inscription which told the sad tale of a young man who lost his life tragically in a ship’s explosion. She photographed the inscription.

“Brian, come quick,” Emily yelled. She turned and waved her arms to get his attention. “I think I’ve found the haunted monument!”

He looked up and waved back but made no attempt to approach.

When he didn’t respond a second time to her calls, she scampered off the rock, pausing to take more photos then ran to him, stumbling over the uneven ground. Breathless when she reached Brian, Emily found it difficult to tell him she had found the headstone of the young soldier.

“You’ll remember where it was, Em? I’d like to get some rubbings of the stones in this section. Let me finish up here and we’ll head over,” Brian answered. He pulled Emily close and kissed her forehead.

Another stone with a worn but interesting inscription soon held their interest and they became engrossed in it – Emily with her camera and Brian with the newsprint and charcoal. They were so preoccupied that they didn’t notice the skies darkening.

HalloweenNot wanting to leave without a final visit to the haunted grave, Emily ran off towards it, Brian following close behind. It was dusk when they reached the location. As they drew nearer, the hairs on the back of Emily’s neck stood on end.

Suddenly, the sky turned pitch black. Not even the glow of the city’s streetlights could be seen. Emily couldn’t see Brian, yet they were only arms length apart. A brilliant flash of lightning and a simultaneous, deafening clap of thunder frightened Emily and she screamed. The pungent smell of ozone filled the air. The headstone now bathed in that ominous bluish glow, made her entire body tingle.

***

The next day, once it was realized they had failed to come back to the Bed and Breakfast the night before, a search party went to the cemetery to look for them. Just as it was when Emily McPherson disappeared all those years ago, there were no signs of a struggle, no signs of the young couple at all. But at the base of the stone, one of the searchers found a pendant – the same one the young woman was last seen wearing when she and her partner left for the cemetery. On the back was an inscription which read, ‘to my Emily June 1st, 1812. All my love BW’. The searchers looked at each other incredulously, then at the headstone. BW – Brian Wolfe. Were these two young people the ghosts of Emily and Brian?

The Wedgewood Author Series

The Wedgewood Author Series

Yup, they’re having me back. Go figure, eh? This time, I’m there launching the print version of my short story anthology – The Consequences Collection.

consequences coverIsn’t this a fantastic cover? I have to thank Madliz Coles for allowing me to use her photograph for my anthology. I don’t think I could have found a more perfect image.

Blurb: 

The Consequences Collection is an eclectic compilation of twelve stories ranging from non-fiction through creative non-fiction to pure fiction, in prose and poetry.

The story of a Scottish Home Child is based on fact and told from the child’s point of view; The Mystery Woman of Kinettles is a non-fiction article on the appearance and subsequent disappearance of a woman’s body near the Wellington County House of Industry (Poor House) in 1879 Southwestern Ontario.

Sound intriguing? Well, come out to the Wedgewood Retirement Resort (that is if you live ‘local’ to Brockville), 15 Market Street East, at 2:00 p.m. today. I’ll be talking about the story behind the anthology and the stories contained within the covers as well as reading from one. Afterwards, you’ll have the opportunity to purchase a signed copy.


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I hope to see you there!

And remember… “If you could see the consequences – would you?”

 

The Giveaway ends at Midnight!

The Seeking Sarah Shand Giveaway

Today is the last day you can enter to win  2014 A Shadow in the Past calendar. Don’t be disappointed. Enter today. You don’t have to know much – or even anything – about Scotland. The clues are in the text portion of each day’s blog post. Using that information, you guess where the photos were taken.

You’ve seen the cover many times – a stone circle, which I think is an excellent wa to convey a time-travel set in Scotland.

But now you get to see the pictures that will grace each and every month…

January

Image21
Tap O’Noth from the Gordonsfield Farm road

February

image 14
Gordonsfield farmhouse

March

Image9
Gordsonfield farm from the stone circle

April

Image2
The road to Weetshill mansion

May

Image8
The railway line near the old kirkyard

June

Image4
The ghostly trees lining the road to Weetshill mansion

July

Image6
Weetshill mansion – in the present

August

Image1
Ruins in the field behind Gordonsfield farmhouse

September

image 19
The Old Kirkyard in Kendonald

October

Image7
The Robertson stone in the Old Kirkyard

November

Image5
Weetshill Railway Station – today

December

image 18
The Salvation Army Citadel in the Castlegate in Aberdeen

These photos were all taken by me on my trips to Scotland in 1993 and 1997, long before A Shadow in the Past came to be, even in its earlier novella form of Sarah’s Gift.

Now that you’ve seen all the months’ photos, don’t you want to win one? You can. It’s easy. Visit the daily posts of my trip to Scotland (the clues are in the text) then leave your guesses where the Seeking Sarah Shand photos were taken in the comments.

You can also play along over at my A Shadow in the Past 2013 Book Tour blog as I check the comments there, too.

Good luck!

I can’t wait to read your guesses.

The Giveaway!

The Seeking Sarah Shand Giveaway

Okay, I’ve banged on about it being a 2014 A Shadow in the Past calendar (created at Vistaprint) but have only ever revealed the cover image. And what better to convey a time-travel set in Scotland than a stone circle on the front cover?

And now for the inside leaves…

January

Image21
Tap O’Noth from the Gordonsfield Farm road

February

image 14
Gordonsfield farmhouse

March

Image9
Gordsonfield farm from the stone circle

April

Image2
The road to Weetshill mansion

May

Image8
The railway line near the old kirkyard

June

Image4
The ghostly trees lining the road to Weetshill mansion

July

Image6
Weetshill mansion – in the present

August

Image1
Ruins in the field behind Gordonsfield farmhouse

September

image 19
The Old Kirkyard in Kendonald

October

Image7
The Robertson stone in the Old Kirkyard

November

Image5
Weetshill Railway Station – today

December

image 18
The Salvation Army Citadel in the Castlegate in Aberdeen

These photos were all taken by me on my trips to Scotland in 1993 and 1997, long before A Shadow in the Past came to be, even in its earlier novella form of Sarah’s Gift.

Now that you’ve seen all the months’ photos, don’t you want to win one? You can. It’s easy. Visit the daily posts of my trip to Scotland (the clues are in the text) then leave your guesses where the Seeking Sarah Shand photos were taken in the comments.

You can also play along over at my A Shadow in the Past 2013 Book Tour blog as I check the comments there, too.

Good luck!

I can’t wait to read your guesses.