A to Z Challenge 2014 - Ghosts - R is For Risk, Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews, Raynham Hall

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One of my favourite hauntings is up today, The Brown Lady of Raynham Hall. Plus I'm talking about a story from American Author Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews. Taking a risk is the subject of my section on ghost story writing today and there's Part 18 of The Burning Web, in which Tris is faced with a dilema.

R is for Risk | The Burning Web | Author Info | British Hauntings

R is for Risk
I've talked about giving the story a kick, and adding some jeopardy to the plot already, and today I'm discussing a specific way to do that: your characters taking a risk. By its very nature, a risk is something that suggests chance, the possibility of being open to a threat. By taking a risk, a hero/ine may be walking into danger, or trusting someone they shouldn't. It might all turn out okay, but it's the not knowing that generates tension.

Stephen King shows his mastery of this technique when he brings together a bunch of 'losers' in IT. They're just kids, defenceless and afraid of what is happening to other kids in their town, but when they come together, they believe in each other and that leads to then taking not one, but many risks based on the bond that is between them. This is shown even more starkly when the characters come back together as adults, now doubting what they can achieve. The risk they all take is huge and for some of them, fatal.

Taking a risk involves trust, thus the characters involved are active in the plot, this is not something happening to them, it is a choice they make, it's an active form of possible jeopardy and can give a plot the kick it needs.

The Burning Web
Part 18

by Sophie Duncan

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Julienne left soon after lunch, the atmosphere not having cleared much. After seeing her off, Tris decided the washing up was preferable to addressing the way Xander was still eyeing him anxiously.

"I'll deal with the dishes, you sort out the bedroom so we don't have to bother tonight," he announced, rather too brightly for either of them.

Still, Xander didn't object, he just disappeared down the corridor while Tris put the kettle on for some hot water for the crockery. His skin was still prickling about the doors incident, and however much both his companions had tried to dismiss it, Tris was sure he'd felt Margaret's hand in it. She had been telling him off for his denial, even if she was not willing to show herself to his friends, he was sure. He didn't know how to get past the worry in Xander, though. Any word of believing in ghosts and his husband would whip him back home, he was sure, and he didn't want that.

Running the cold water from the tap, Tris leant on the sink and watched the now clear as crystal liquid bubbling over the cream enamel as he waited for the kettle. He needed to prove to Xander that Margaret was not a figment of his mixed up mind, but he had no idea how to do it. He didn't think the suggestion of a seance would go down well.

Tris was so deep in thought that it took him a few moments to realise the hair on the back of his neck was standing up again. More than memory, his instincts were firing and he kept firm hold of the sink as he looked to his right, towards the old range. Cold air fell over him once more and his knees went weak, because the battered old ironwork was no longer so tatty. In fact, it was fully blacked and spit spot, and on top of it was sitting a large pot of stew, or soup by the smell that reached Tris' nostrils.

The sound of leather on stone made Tris' heart skip a beat and he glanced over his shoulder, turning just a little, to see a man skirting round the table. He was tall, blond, with a moustache and a sporting outfit from the turn of the last century. The stranger was looking around him and moving quietly, as though he should not have been there, but for all his attention, he did not see Tris, who leant heavily on the sink and shivered. It was like a weight on Tris' shoulders was keeping him in place and pushing him into the ground as his stomach turned over.

The ghost, for that is what he was and Tris could no longer deny it, reached the range and looked down into the pot there. He was wearing black leather gloves and holding a small sack and, as Tris was forced to watch, he reached into the hessian bag. The man's hand came out gripping small yellowish-brown fungi and, looking furtively around, he quickly dropped them into the pot, before stirring the contents. Tris felt sick as he connected what he was seeing to the newspaper report in the library about the poisonous mushrooms. He realised he was, in fact, witnessing murder.

Giddy and nauseous, Tris closed his eyes and willed the awful truth away. Instantly, he felt the air warm and the weight on him lift. Still, he was reluctant to open his eyes again. That was until he heard Xander's footsteps coming down the hallway. Quickly, he turned back to the sink, which was way too full with cold water now, and stuffed his hands in it as though he had already begun washing the lunch things.

"I think the tea towels must be upstairs," Tris began breathlessly, but shot a smile over his shoulder at his husband. "Could you grab them for me, please?"

Xander did not looked convinced, so Tris held the smile for as long as he could, which turned out to be enough. As Xander headed back the way he had come, Tris collapsed over the sink, elbows supporting him, and breathed hard. He had to believe now. His mind was not playing tricks. Yet, how could he possibly tell Xander?

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Author Info: Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews

So this is where I admit my cultural ignorance, and until I was going research on Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews because I wanted to feature one of her stories here, I did not know that her most famous work was The Perfect Tribute, a short story about President Lincoln and his Gettysburg Address. Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews was an American author, who wrote everything from a Napoleonic Historical novel, Crosses of War, to the story I'd like to tell you about now.

I read this story, Through The Ivory Gate, in The Ghost Story Mega Pack. It's a sweet ghost story, the kind where there is nothing scary about it, this ghost wants to help. We meet Philip Beckwith as a child of 12, having a dream about a young boy in  old fashioned clothes holding out a key to him. He has this dream and sees this boy repeatedly as he grows older, not knowing why. He then finds out who the boy was - his uncle, also Philip, Philip Fairfield, and he discovers that the boy held a secret - where his father hid the Fairfield family wealth. He died keeping that secret since his father had told him to tell no-one, which in his young mind meant not even his mother could know. I will not tell you the details of the rest, but Philip goes back to his ancestral home in the South and the story is one of love and friendship.

As I said, this is not a scary story, but if you like your ghosts without the spooky edges, then this one is for you.


British Hauntings: Raynham Hall

Raynham Hall is in Norfolk, a country house, and the reason I want to share it with you today is because of its famous ghost, The Brown Lady. Now, she might not be quite so famous if it wasn't for the fact that she has been photographed. In fact, I used this photograph as part of my banner. This was the first ever 'ghost' photograph I ever saw, it was in Aidan Chambers' Book of Ghosts and Hauntings and is one of the reasons I became interested in ghosts in the first place.

Unlike a lot of ghost photographs, where the photographer is unaware the have taken the shot until the photo is developed (or in these digital days, reveiwed) the story goes that M Indra Shira and his assistant, Captain Provand, were taking photos around the house when Mr Shira saw an ethereal figure coming down the stairs. Provand was not looking up, but Shira told him to take a picture and he did. The photo on the left is the result,  ghost descending the stairs. At the time, no evidence of tampering of the photo could be found when it was examined, and the picture was even published in Country Life.

So who is this lady. Well, she is called The Brown Lady of Raynham Hall, because of the brown brocade dress she is said to wear. She is the ghost of Dorothy Walpole, trapped in Raynham Hall as a punishment for adultery. She lived there until she died from smallpox. One Colonel Loftus, a Christmas guest as Raynham in 1835, claimed he saw the ghost twice, making not of the colour of her dress and the hollow, empty eye sockets - she must have been a quite terrible sight! She was also shot at by another observer as she grinned at him diabolically.


I'd love to hear your own spooky stories, add them to the blog comments. :)

A few of us discovered that we all had supernatural themes for the AtoZ so we got together and did a mini list. If you also have a supernatural theme (ghosts, monsters, witches, spells etc), please feel free to add yourself to the list.

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