A cozy haunting…
Spectral wavering yellow and orange peaks of light rise out of the blue burning edges of flame. Beneath the flame red hot embers glow and pulse burning redder and then blackening to char and ash. Fire breathes. Flames engulf the burnable fuel melting paper and thin wood away and growing the fire into a larger field, but stopped by the borders of cooler inflammable stone and metal barriers. Fire expands and fire is bound. Burning in defined space, but not of mass or solid substance, fire dances a plasmatic energy wave routine climbing high on a gust of air, leaning, bending, reaching, sparking out spore-like as if in effort to propagate. Yet with nothing to root to fire burns out. A semblance of life, a proximal entity, the stage for its lavish performance, the essence for its presentation nothing but the smoldering, heat saturated carbon it springs from. Cool the carbon, and draw the curtain.
Fire is strange and mesmerizing. It’s beautiful to gaze upon and terrifying when out of its civilized bounds. Fire in its expression, its release of energy is so like us and so needed by us that it assumes characteristic, symbolism, mythos beyond its mere chemical reaction. Fire is haunting. Between looking into the long dark of winter and looking into the burning fireplaces, lanterns, and candles that lit homes in the not so distant past, it’s no wonder that ghost stories became a wintertime tradition. Darkness brings uncertainty into the visual realm. You know what was there before the dark of night fell, but, once the dark sets in, you can’t really be sure what’s there now. Add fire. Fire can be a friendly warm friend, but it can also cast a spiky, severe shadow play against the background. Like lightening it illuminates briefly and fades just as fast. You catch a moment in time. Your mind races to piece together what you saw with what you believed was there. Is it the same? The shadows look longer, larger in the light of the fire. The wind howls over the open chimney and through the cracks in the windows. A chill wraps around your bare ankles. The fire pops. The wind rattles the old house and trees outside. You turn to the window and squint through the dark to view the trees. A pale half face stares back at you. Goosebumps. It’s your reflection, but a terrible one. Your back tingles between your shoulder blades. Your heart feels hollow and unprotected. You want to spin around to see what’s behind you, but you don’t want to give into your nonsense fear. You turn your head back to the fire. It flutters merrily. There’s nothing to fear. Right?
Ghost stories are better in the dark, which naturally makes winter an ideal season to read and tell them. It’s no coincidence that perhaps the most famous Christmas story (besides the origin store of course) is a ghost story: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. Ghost stories generally aren’t my favorite genre, but the ones I have enjoy most are old ones, ones that summon the ambience of a time when reading would have occurred in a drafty creaking house sitting near to a fire for warmth on a freezing winter’s night. Here are my best winter ghost story recommendations (and YouTube audiobook readings)
- Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin (audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvRuuvZJ9k8)
- A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens (audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pe0jzsj_Kpc)
- The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Other Tales by Washing Irving (audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V2xmG93vkcQ)
- At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft (audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTk0iROhSOc)
- The Glamour of the Snow by Algernon Blackwood (audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcTPjKW-dIU)
- Young Goodman Brown by Nathaniel Hawthorne (audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-5WW7aHZ-I)
- The Moonlit Road by Ambrose Bierce (audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8jWQ_3jkhY)
Enhance your experience reading or listening to ghost stories this winter with some winter ambience and aromas!
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