Where Spirits Linger: Narrating the Paranormal, #3

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Introduction and Epilogue by Kaye Lynne Booth

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Compiled and edited by Kaye Lynne Booth

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Cover by WordCrafter Press

Introduction

For the 2020 WordCrafter Short Fiction Contest, the theme outlined in the submission guidelines was a paranormal short fiction story in which the setting is central to the story. In many ghost stories, the location or setting is a central element in the story. Certainly, a spooky setting can be a key element in getting buy-in with a paranormal tale.

Did you ever wonder why many ghost hunts take place in hotels, hospitals, battle fields, cemeteries, etc...? Ghost hunter, Connor Randall says that this is because these settings are liminal places, locations of transition which attract more paranormal energy. Randall claims many hauntings are caused by residual spirits, or building memories, caught like a broken record, repeating the same actions over and over again, apparently unaware of our presence on this side of the veil.

Although that doesn’t explain reports of non-repetitive and unpredictable manifestations, ghosts which don’t seem to be attached to a place, but perhaps an object or even a person instead, it does explain why location is central to so many good ghost stories. The spooky setting makes the story all the more believable.

Whether ghosts or some sort of ethereal imprint, places where hauntings are said to occur, liminal locations, seem to provide wonderfully scary settings. Let’s face it, a ghost story that takes place in a park on a sunny day wouldn’t be nearly as believable as the same story, but in a nearby cemetery at dusk, during an impending thunderstorm with thunder and lightning crackling all around. The scary setting helps to set the right tone in which to believe in the paranormal and is vital to the tale.

The winning story from the above-mentioned contest was Olde-Tyme Village, by Christa Planko, who found the perfect ending for her story. You find it in the following pages, along with other contest entries and stories by invitation, including one by the author of last year’s winning story, Enid Holden. I hope you enjoy each one as much as I have, as we explore the places Where Spirits Linger.

Author Kaye Lynne Booth

https://kayelynnebooth.wordpress.com

Kaye Lynne Booth lives, works, and plays in the mountains of Colorado. With a dual emphasis M.F.A. in Creative Writing, writing is more than a passion. It's a way of life. She’s a multi-genre author, who finds inspiration from the nature around her, and her love of the old west, and other odd and quirky things which might surprise you. She has short stories featured in the following anthologies: The Collapsar Directive (If You’re Happy and You Know It); Relationship Add Vice (The Devil Made Her Do It); Nightmareland (The Haunting in Carol’s Woods); Whispers of the Past (The Woman in the Water); and Spirits of the West (Don’t Eat the Pickled Eggs). Her western, Delilah, her paranormal mystery novella and her short story collection, Last Call, are all available in both digital and print editions.

In her spare time, she keeps up her author’s blog, Writing to be Read, where she posts reflections on her own writing, author interviews and book reviews, along with writing tips and inspirational posts from fellow writers. She’s also the founder of WordCrafter. In addition to creating her own imprint in WordCrafter Press, she offers quality author services, such as editing, social media & book promotion, and online writing courses through WordCrafter Quality Writing & Author Services. When not writing or editing, she is bird watching, or hiking, or just soaking up some of that Colorado sunshine.

The People Upstairs

By Kaye Lynne Booth

Copyright © 2021 by Kaye Lynne Booth. All rights reserved.

June 16th, 2012

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Dear Diary,

Today was about as awful as any eight-year-old girl ever had. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why folks have to be so mean. And poor Edna. She’s just on old woman who thinks a little different. That’s what Mom says, and I think she’s right. Edna is one of the nicest ladies I know.

I saw Edna outside the supermarket when I was waiting for mom to pick up Gram’s grocery order. Michelle Jones and the group of girls she hangs out with just kept taunting her, calling her ‘Crazy Edna’, trying to yank her shopping cart away from her. As sure as my name’s Cassie Cook, somebody had to do something.

I could see in her eyes how scared she was. Edna thinks people are after her anyway. She’s been our housekeeper and Mom’s friend since before I was born. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s talked about how everyone is after her: the government, her neighbors, the mailman, the church... but mostly the government. Edna thought they were all after her at one time or another, forming conspiracies against her, trying to kill her.

One time she stopped opening mail for two years, because she was convinced that her mailman was poisoning her envelopes with something that would seep into her skin and kill her if she touched it. I know. That does sound crazy, even crazier than the voices she hears in her head or closing off entire sections of her house. Mom says she just passes through phases, and no one is really after her, but she isn’t hurting anyone living like she does, so we should humor her as much as we can.

I could tell those mean girls really frightened Edna. So, Diary, you can see why I had to step in. Edna may think a little differently, but she’s my friend.

Michelle and her bunch are the type who make themselves feel better about who they are by talking down everyone around them. They are a couple of grades ahead of me, in the sixth grade, and I avoid them all as much as possible around school. I knew trouble was coming as soon as I came around the corner of the grocery.

Well, well. Look what we have here, girls, Michelle said, twirling a lock of golden blonde hair around her finger. It’s Crazy Edna, the bag lady. She sauntered over to block the sidewalk ahead, Tara, Ashley and Sharon all trailing behind her like a line of baby ducklings imprinting on their mother. Michelle reached out and grabbed Edna’s cart, jerking it toward her. What do you have in that cart, Crazy Edna?

Edna tightened her grip on the shopping cart and pulled back. Here, now. You stop that, Edna said, her voice rising. Those are my groceries. I need them. I paid for them.

But Michelle didn’t let go of the cart, instead giving it another tug. Are you sure that you paid for them? Maybe the little green men beamed them down to you.

Is that what really happened? Sharon said, stepping up next to Michelle with her fuscia pink hair gathered up in short ponytails that looked like balls of porcupine quills spiking out on either side of her head. A nose ring with a small ball on each end hung from the piercing in her nose, making it look like she has a booger there. Or maybe you’re beaming them up to them as an offering. Do you worship them?

You let go of my shopping basket! Edna said, yanking back hard, ripping the metal wires from Michelle’s fingers.

You are crazy! Michelle yelled, shoving the shopping cart into Edna’s ankles, causing her to cry out in pain.  Michelle stepped forward with her fist drawn back.

I thought she was going to punch poor Edna in the face! Hey Michelle! You can’t talk to her like that. I said, stepping in between them.

I wish you could have seen the surprised looks on all their faces, Diary. It was as if they hadn’t really seen me standing there before. Of course, that’s when Michelle hit me right in the eye. My head started spinning from the blow and I fell to my knees, scrapping my elbow on the sidewalk. But that wasn’t the worst part.

My mom came out of the store then, with Gram’s groceries and put a stop to the whole thing, chasing those girls off. Mom is a big lady with a loud voice. Those