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Ghost Story Competition - Writing the Supernatural

 I'm not the Crowvus writer who publishes horror. I've appreciated the brilliant books by Judith Crow, but I know it's not something I can write. The supernatural is different. People will - quite rightly - tell you that horror can encompass the supernatural, but the supernatural is not only confined to that genre. The supernatural, by definition, have their roots in the natural. In the case of ghosts, they were once alive, now having transcended from the natural (i.e. worldly) existence, into the supernatural on an unknown plain. The best ghost stories (my opinion only!) are the ones which unite the natural and the supernatural, looking at the shadows and imprints left on the natural world by those now occupying the supernatural one. In essence, when I read through the submissions for the Crowvus Christmas Ghost Story Competition , I'm looking for the human aspect of the story. I love the idea of ghosts trapped in time, I love the idea of ghosts trying to commune with ...
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#HistFicThursdays - Christmas Snippets - Merry Christmas to All!

 As it's very nearly Christmas, here are a few little Christmas samples from my writing. Since Christmas is a big deal in the Crowvus household, it's unsurprising that it tends to be a big deal in my books, too! Last year, I shared these Christmas samples from Beneath Black Clouds and White. Here are this year's words...

The service was beautiful. Throughout much of it, Francesco simply stared at the illuminated altar, unable to bring himself to speak or move. It was like a dream being played out around him. He had not attended the chapel since his arrival and he could not believe the difference the season had made. As he stood there, he could imagine this as the seat of the first nativity, and he heard the words of the liturgy and the music of the psalms drawing him only further into this belief.
~ from Poisoned Pilgrimage (you can find the opening of this novel in the Embark Journal)

And so Christmas found the two sisters in very different ways. The Jenkyns’ Christmas was rich and extravagant, filled with expensive meats and sweet pies, toys of the highest calibre for Timothy and hand woven lace and linen for Arabella. Petrovia Lodge observed a far smaller but equally appreciated feast. Josiah and Beatrice were old enough now to join Imogen and their father at the table, and each was dressed according to the celebration. Penny and Anne were invited to join them once the table had been laid and served. Although presents were not as plentiful as in the Jenkyns’ household, there were nothing but smiles from those gathered at the table. Further soldiers were Josiah’s present, once more from an anonymous benefactor, whilst Beatrice received a porcelain doll that she could clothe in one of several dresses that accompanied it. Mr Tenterchilt was delivered a sword of such beauty and balance that he declared at once that it could only have come from one of the skilled continental workers in London. Imogen had received a gift too, though she was far less certain of hers. It was a silver chain with a single pearl hanging from it. It caught the light in the most peculiar way, shining with rainbow colours and, though she loved it, she did not dare wear it without knowing who had sent it and with what purpose it had been sent.
~ from Day's Dying Glory

“My dear Imogen,” Imogen read. “Congratulations on the arrival of your son, and I trust this Christmas message, though being written seven weeks early, reaches you all in good health. The contents of the box is your Christmas gift from Henry, Lizzie and me. We discovered the gentleman on Henry’s estate has a good stock and-” Imogen paused to read ahead and a genuine smile covered her face as she gasped. “Oh, quickly!” she continued. “Open the basket.”
Josiah leaned over the basket and untied the two straps before he lifted the lid and looked in. He was met by two wide eyes which stared back at him from the curled up creature in the bottom.
“It is a puppy,” Beatrice squealed, dipping her hands into the basket and pulling out the spaniel. Anne gave a slight laugh while Penny folded her arms and shook her head.
“Miss Catherine seems intent on making work for me even when she is halfway around the world.”
“She goes on to talk about Gulliver,” Imogen continued. “He was our spaniel when we were children. And she wishes us all a wonderful Christmas and health and happiness for the new year.” Imogen smiled at Anne and considered the arrival of Gulliver many years before. “He looks just like him. What shall we name him?”
~ from Blind Folly of the Heart (which might make an appearance in 2023!)

I wish each one of you a very Merry Christmas!
I hope you get a wealth of books, and that you also have the time to enjoy them!

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