What Ghosts Wear II

A man came to one of my True Ghosts presentations at Malaprops Bookstore in Asheville, North Carolina. He spoke to me briefly afterwards and said that he was a ghost exorcist. He handed me his business card and, sure enough, it said Ghost Exorcist right on it in plain print.

Generally, I like ghosts. They're just people to begin with. Or cats. A ghost might scare you or give you a case of the creepy crawlies, but they aren't the Devil.

The man said that ghosts get inside people and sometimes cause back aches and other pains. Or they just plain wear you out by being inside your skin. I'd never before thought of a ghost as a muscle ache. Maybe they're just riding around on your shoulders or something. When my feet are sore, though, I like to think I'm the only one who's been using them. That's a fact.

In my story A Patch of Fog, a young woman named Cindy Evans gets a ghost inside her by driving through mountain fog with her window down. The ghost is an old, old woman and it makes Cindy old to have the ghost inside. But it isn't all bad to have a ghost visit you for a bit. The old woman just needs her cats fed.

You go along with what the ghost inside you wants to do and you'll be all right in the end. From the story, A Patch of Fog, in Ghost Cats of the South:

"Biscuits and Gravy walked out onto the sloping porch with Cindy. The cats stretched, then lazily strolled off into the yard. They'd return soon, she knew. The mountain morning would be officially over when they did. Likely as not, Gravy would bring back a mole or a mouse and drop it at Cindy's feet.

"Mist lifted from the yard, disappearing as the sun warmed the mountain air. Cindy heard a whirring sound by her left ear. Suddenly, the hummingbird hovered in front of her face. Her grandmother said hummingbirds were messengers, but this one didn't have a thing to say. It darted away, to one feeder, then the other. Soon, a second hummingbird joined in."

It's not so bad having a ghost inside of you, whether it comes in with the fog through an open car window, or slips into your bed at night and comes inside while you're breathing in to show you a ghost dream or two.

It's not so bad, as long as you do what the ghost wants you to.

Cat Photo Contest! $50!

I just received word that my publisher is sponsoring a cat photo contest. And the photos can be emailed to them for the competition. Has your cat seen a ghost? Best photo of a cat that makes a person think of ghosts wins $50 gift certificate for cat stuff.

Click on the link for Cat Photo Contest at (upper right on this page) and email your favorite cat photo to the email address provided there by 5 P.M. October 27. Winning photo will be displayed at the John F. Blair publisher webpage. Please note: the email address provided is NOT my email and I am not judging or allowed to see the photos. All on the up and up.

In case I forgot to mention it, Ghost Cats of the South is illustrated with more than two dozen antique photos of cats and of people with their cats. Collecting antique photos and photo albums is what I do in my spare time. They're full of ghosts!

What Ghosts Wear

As autumn arrives, the fog walks down the mountains at night. I watch it out my window with the cats. Cats and fog walk alike. You won’t hear either coming in the door. In the morning, the fog lifts. But never quickly enough.

In the mountains of southern Appalachia, there is the ghost of an old woman who wears a patch of fog for clothes. A rising wisp of fog is all we ever see of her. She walks the roads in the morning this time of year. And she waits. For you.

The old woman wants to borrow your car. She wants to borrow your body, too.

When you pass through this patch of fog that is a ghost, the old lady comes inside your car and, as quickly, she enters you. She gets into your bones and makes you old in minutes. You won’t know what is happening. Your hands suddenly ache with age. Your eyesight isn’t as clear.

Your back bends forward and stays that way. You can barely see over the steering wheel.

It won’t matter whether you see well or not. You aren’t driving the car any longer. She is. You find that you are turning the car around in the road. It takes forever. Then, slowly, back up the mountain ridge you go.

The fog in the mountains is like that. It goes where it wants to go, not where you want it to. She’s driving you both to her house. It’s a place you’ve never been before, but when you get there you’ll know just what to do. The cats are watching for your arrival.

* * * The story above is titled A Patch of Fog in Ghost Cats of the South. My reading from the published (a tad more eloquent) version of the ghost story will be featured on SE Public Radio (Montgomery Alabama) throughout the month of October.

From 5 to 7 pm, Thursday, October 16, I'll be at Milestone Books in Westavia Hills, Alabama telling ghost stories and listening to those who drop by with a ghost expereince of their own to share. If you live in the Montgomery metro area, you can call Milestone Books at 205-824-2223 and reserve a signed copy of Ghost Cats of the South. Or plan to drop by and keep me company with a good ghost question or two.

Cats and Sisters

A few people have asked me about the illustrative photo at the top of this blog page, mostly to wonder why I don't put something else there.

What I like best about the posed portrait of the mountain family is, of course, the cat. I also think the facial expressions and body language of the two young sisters is a perfect short-study of oldest / youngest sibling dispositions.

Hint: one likes baking cookies, one likes eating them.

I also like to play with the relationships here. Given an entire Sunday to fiddle with a ukulele and not do much else, I can find an entire novel in a photo like this one. Can't you?

Mostly, when I think of writing fiction, I am thinking of what happens next. What is wonderful about photos (such as the one above) is in looking at them, entering them as best I can, it makes me wonder what happened first. It's a nice switch.

Dogs wag, btw. Cats switch.

Potatoes, apparently, just sit there and don't do much at all.

Ghost Cats Reviews

I'm just too busy right now to think. At least, that's my excuse.

A few reader reviews of Ghost Cats of the South have shown up at the Barnes & Noble website. And, of course, I am very pleased. Some people have time to read right now. Dang.

"I wish I could give 6 stars .... A reviewer (blhll50@yahoo) 09/14/2008. I wish I could give 6 stars because this book is more than a collection of short stories, they are short stories that read like screenplays. They will remind you, as they did me, of the old '60's TV series, THE TWILIGHT ZONE centering on stories that involve a cat in some way. Some will stay with you, haunt you, while others will make you think. This is a great book for anyone wanting the escape of good short story writing."

"Face Eating Cat .... Mark, a book lover, 09/13/2008. I agree with the previous reviewer, some of the stories are not for the faint of heart, but most are just good ghost stories with cats as part of the story. I also agree that this book is for anyone over the age of 12 that is looking for well written, thought provoking stories that make your spine tingle as you read them."

"Great Ghost Stories! A reviewer, a jr.hi teacher, 09/11/2008. The stories in Ghost Cats of the South live up to the title's name, some are sweet gentle stories of Southern kitties, but be warned, some will scare the socks off you! This is a great book for anyone over the age of 12!"

Soil & Shrubs, Ghosts & Spirits

According to master gardeners, there is no dirt and there are no bushes in my yard. What's out there, they have told me, is soil. And shrubs. I took a class in gardening at the community college to find this out.

I wanted to ask about the voices of children you sometimes hear on the breeze of an evening, voices that whisper through pine needles. It seems common enough until the children laugh. If I took a class in ghosts, I would be told without a doubt that I was listening to the spirits of children and not to the voices of ghosts.

Ghosts, I have been told, are earth-bound. Spirits are not. I wanted to correct the person who informed me of this and ask whether she didn't mean soil-bound if the ghosts were in the yard.

I don't know how far away heaven is. Has heaven been snatched from earth to float away free and never return? Does it drift further and further out to stay? Not to know where heaven is must sound foolish to smart people who know these things, but I think the place in which spirits dwell is pretty close to here. And if the home of spirits isn't earth-bound, there's a regular road that will have them here and back again. It's not a long walk.

I think heaven is tied to earth. Or earth is tied to heaven.

Ghosts who are earth-bound move around. I hear they get on trains all the time. And ships. Ghosts in the backseats of cars are certainly bound to go somewhere when the cars move along. So I don't think earth-bound means tied in one place. It just must mean that ghosts are here. Well, so are spirits.

Ghosts and spirits both to me are ghosts. I truly can't make up my mind between. Perhaps it's best if neither were heard and ghosts were never seen. That's not the case. When a spirit of someone dead drops by to speak to you in a dream or to say a pretty word or two when you're walking the aisle at the grocery store in that hat you put on because your hair is a mess, well hell, that's a ghost to me.

And my grandmother's yard has snowball bushes in it. They grow in the dirt by the stone wall and bloom in the spring. You can't talk her out of it.

Comments, Yay!

I'm trying to get my settings fixed for comments. This post is a test. Thank you for your patience.

A Cat Was There!

Saturday at the park in Winston-Salem the group of about 60 people moved their chairs from inside a large tent, where it was hot, to sit under the shade of a huge tree, where it was a bit cooler. Upon being introduced, I warned those in attendance that I am often accompanied by a ghost when I travel somewhere to speak. I think the ghosts have someone check up on what I am saying about them.

As I began talking about Ghost Cats of the South, and specific ghosts I have known, a small black cat walked out of the woods. I could see it coming. The woods, however, were at the backs of the people with whom I was speaking. Soon, the person sitting next to me, who was there to introduce me to the group, saw the cat, too.

I cannot talk sitting down. I was standing up, moving around, getting to know the faces of the people there... seeing if they wanted me to continue with a topic or move in new directions. The cat reached us, it walked through the back row of people sitting in their chairs in the shade. I think it had something to say. Or maybe just wanted to hear better.

It kept coming. It walked through another row of chairs. And then the people who had come to the Ghost Discussion session began to notice it. A general murmur, a chuckle, one gasp, a lot of elbowing and in a minute everyone was looking at the cat. I reached down for my book which has a picture of a black cat on the cover. I held up my book and said to the cat, "Is this you?"

The cat had enough attention and turned about to scamper off, between the chairs, and take up residence just behind the back row of chairs. It lay down in the shade. Someone in the group brought it water in a plastic cup and gave it to the cat. It stayed, ladies and gentlemen, for the entire session.

We named the cat Sally. And she seemed to enjoy the lively discussion of ghosts. At least six people in the group had ghost experiences to share and this is always my favorite part of any "presentation" I give. Wow. There were a lot of goosebumps raised Saturday. It kept us a little cooler.

Sally, btw, wore a little red collar outfitted with a bell. She was a well-cared-for cat just visiting from her forever home, which must have been on the other side of the woods behind the Moravian Park in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Either that or she was a ghost. I like to think she was a local cat who, you know, was curious about Ghost Cats.

Oh, there were numerous tents and booths at the book festival. Nearby was a large tent where children's story storytellers and authors performed (really fun to overhear! - Storytellers are a true delight!). But Sally chose us.

I have literally hundreds of true ghost encounters I've collected to share when I speak. And now I have Sally. I'm going to make her famous in the next few weeks throughout the South as The Cat Who Liked to Hear About Ghosts. Of course, she'll only be famous to small groups of people here and there... but with any luck one of her kindred will show up at the next presentation. I hope so.