Missing Chapter from APPARITION: Detective Grierson finding Matthew’s Body in the Barn (Happy Halloween!)

A policeman stands at the entrance of a huge old barn on 12th Line. He pushes on the old barn door, slowly opening inwards, and he peeks inside. Then he pushes it open some more, so that sunlight streams like rays of heaven into a dark wooden cathedral. He steps inside. He can see the boy standing, slouching forward against something along the far wall. It looks like something is sticking out of his back, and on the ground in front of him, the dirt floor is dark. The officer takes two steps in, stops, then steps back into the sunlight outside.
“The kid is in there. He’s dead. Call it in. Grierson too. And better tell the old man he’ll be coming in for questioning.” Then he turns, head down, and walks back into the barn.
Detective Dave Grierson arrives on the Telford property about 27 minutes after he gets the call. He parks his blue sedan on the long gravel driveway that leads from the road up to the Telford farmhouse, grabs a canvas bag from the car floor on the passenger side, and steps out. There are already three police cruisers and an ambulance parked ahead of him. He walks across a rough field to the right behind the house, towards the old abandoned barn. It’s one of those very faded forgotten buildings in the landscape that don’t catch your eye. There are two officers examining the exterior, two more inside, taking notes and pictures, and two paramedics standing by, waiting for their cue to take the body out. Grierson’s seen a couple of dozen or so murder scenes in his 20 years on the Grey County force. Mostly they’ve been the result of people getting on each other’s nerves. Also drinking, doing drugs and being stupid. But this Sorenson kid was an “A” student from one of the cleanest families in town. He knows the parents. They do fundraising every year for the Annual Police BBQ Picnic. He steps just inside the barn door and sees the victim, a dark-haired teenage boy, standing upright near the far wall. This is the oddest, most brutal murder he’s seen in years. This is going to be a very big deal in Grey County.
The barn is mostly empty, probably hasn’t been used in decades. He’d noticed a second outbuilding on the other side of the farmhouse, brown aluminum siding. That’s what the farmer uses for his tractor, other equipment. Not this one. He walks inside. There are a few broken and rusted pieces of antique-looking farm machinery, tools, and old hardware junk piled up in corners. Nothing out of the ordinary. No signs of vagrants. No recent garbage. No pop cans or beer bottles. Not a hang-out. No illicit business venue. Just a sad, abandoned piece of local history.
Grierson looks up, through the massive timbers and rafters, towards the roof. The grey boards are weathered and loose, a few missing. In the fragments of sunlight the air is filled with dust. He looks back down at the figure before him, propped up like a hunch-backed puppet standing, facing the back stall. Pinned there, it seems, by a pitchfork. “What the devil?” he mutters to himself.
Grierson walks in the direction of the boy’s body, eyes on the ground, scouring for footprints, markings, anything loose, anything odd. He walks a half-circle around the corpse. He’s guessing dead less than a day. He pulls a worn notepad from his bag, pulls a pen from his shirt pocket, and begins to write. Pitchfork entered abdomen at a near right angle, parallel to the floor. He digs into his bag and pulls out a small metal tape measure. The handle end of the pitchfork rests on a horizontal stall ledge about 44 inches above the ground, extending into the stall by about 13 inches, wedged tight between two vertical boards in the stall door, held in place by another horizontal beam inside the stall. The rusty prongs, now sticky and caked, protruding through the abdomen just below the rib cage and out the back by an inch or so, four of the five prongs clear through, one on the right scraping the body. It’s the rib cage resting on the pitchfork that’s kept him upright. Arms limp at sides. Blood running south from the puncture wounds, down the jeans, front and back, on the running shoes and the ground. Grierson stares at the young face. He watches a fly crawling across the lower lip, over the dried blood that spilt down his chin from his mouth.
No sign of defensive wounds. No sign of struggle. Was the penetration made before or after the pitchfork was wedged into place? Could he have been killed, then propped up in this position? And if afterwards, and the pitchfork wasn’t plunged into him, was he pushed into it? Facing it? Did he resist? And looking at the tips of the prongs, how much force to be run right through? Quite a bit of force he reckons. Quite a bit. Ridiculous, really. He continues to write, focusing on questions for the coroner. What’s under the fingernails, on the palms?
The legs are slightly bent at the knees and ankles, not taking the body’s weight. From a distance, it almost looks like he’s standing. Grierson pulls out a flashlight and takes a closer look at the straw floor around the feet. He brings the flashlight back behind the body and slowly circles the light onto the ground. He can see what looks like tracks in the straw and dust leading away and down the barn floor, the kind of trail that might be made by someone kicking up straw as they pace back and forth. He brings the flashlight back to the body. The running shoes are dusty, covered in dry streams of blood and bits of straw. Grierson stands close to the boy’s face now, bowed chin on chest, black hair hanging over the eyes, the buzz of flies in the air, and thinks. Matthew Sorenson. This was a decent kid. Then he nods to one of the paramedics, and they move in to begin the delicate task of freeing the body from the metal grip. He flips through a few pages of his notebook, looking for the Sorensons’ address. This part he hates.

Belief and Doubt

In many ways, APPARITION is about belief. The subtitle on the front cover is “Seeing Isn’t Always Believing” and that’s no accident. It starts in the very first paragraph: Amelia looks out her bedroom window into the backyard and sees her mother gardening. But Amelia’s mother died two years ago, and Amelia doesn’t really believe she’s seeing her mother at all. She thinks it’s only a figment of her imagination. That’s what her grandmother and psychotherapist have convinced her. So when she finds out that ghost-tracker Morris believes her, she is finally able to admit to herself that she believed she was seeing her mother’s ghost all along.

IMG_1120I find the question of what we believe and why we believe pretty fascinating, so it comes up a lot in my book. For instance, during Matthew’s funeral, the preacher talks reassuringly about how Matthew is now happy in Heaven. She would like to believe him, but she is skeptical. She is reminded of how Matthew used to comfort her by telling her that her mother was in Heaven – when Amelia kept seeing her gardening in the backyard. And as it turns out, Matthew’s not quite in Heaven either.

Sometimes we believe things are true or real because it makes us feel better, or makes life easier. Which is fine, although maybe it would be more honest if we said “I want to believe x” more often, instead of just “I believe x” – as in “I want to believe my dead friend still lives – somewhere, somehow.”

But sometimes we believe things that we don’t actually like. Bad things about ourselves, for instance – we are not good enough, that we are unlucky, or victims, or losers. The appeal of being a pessimist is that at least we don’t have to live with doubt. There’s a certain pleasure in being certain – even of something negative.

The more certainty we have and the less doubt, the more secure we feel. We want others to share our beliefs because it makes us feel more certain if they do. Being part of a crowd all believing the same thing can be a big comfort. Having doubts always makes you feel a little alone.

The belief in ghosts is usually built on personal experience, and so it’s quite right that it is never free of doubt. Ghosts don’t care if you don’t have proof that they exist, or any witnesses, or any emotional motivation for believing in them. But what I like about doubt is that it can lead us to think for ourselves more. And that’s what I like most about Amelia – she’s trying to think for herself, even when she’s not sure what she believes. And that’s one of the secrets of her courage, even in the face of creepy ghosts.

The Central Character in YA Novels

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the role of the central character in YA novels – namely, her personality.

ApparitionCoverSomeone once told me that the key to the success of a particular, wildly popular novel was that the central character, a teenage girl, had hardly any personality traits at all. No obvious quirks or flaws or qualities. No distinguishing marks. Even her appearance was indistinctive. She was attractive, without any details.

The reason, he said, was simple. This allows every reader to put herself into the story, to imagine that she is the protagonist of the book, to fantasize that she is the heroine. Sure, things happened to the central character, and around her, but it is what life does to her that is important, not what she does with her life, he said. If a central character has a distinctive way of acting or thinking, it can interfere with the average reader imagining themselves being her.

I wondered about that at the time, and I still do, but it seems a little cynical to me. Maybe it is a good strategy for some YA writers, but I couldn’t imagine bringing such a girl to life. The only way I can bring a character to life on the page, to make her talk and think and feel, is to make her real to me – which means giving her all the complexity that I see in myself and in the people around me, and especially in the girls that I remember in my teenage years.

That means imagining a person who isn’t perfect, isn’t an angel or a saint or a genius or empty-head either. It also means imagining someone with a checkered history, with both precious and painful memories, with insecurities and doubts and fears and desires. She has to have scars, hang-ups and emotional baggage. She sometimes makes mistakes and has regrets. She isn’t a role model. She’s a human being in the midst of huge change, ie teenagehood.

I’m thinking about this because I sometimes get feedback from Apparition readers that they aren’t wild about my central character Amelia, saying she lacks confidence, suffers from too much doubt, and too much indecision about the boys in her life. Also, she thinks a lot, and ruminates about everything too much and seems to contradict herself sometimes.

But I’m happy knowing there are quite a few readers out there who do like Amelia, and cut her some slack. After all, she is suffering from grief and loneliness and depression, but she still has a sense of dark humour and she doesn’t run away when the going gets tough. She will walk alone into a haunted barn if she thinks she should – knowing that she won’t actually be in there alone at all.

In the end, I’m totally okay with readers who don’t identify with Amelia so much, because we don’t always identify with everyone we meet in real life and that’s okay. But I hope they will give her a chance, see that she is struggling to be a better person, and that, over time, she might even gain a little wisdom!

 

Freedom to Read Week blog

I wrote the blog below for Amy Epps Stewart, for her blog A Simple Love of Reading, for Freedom to Read Week last month. It was an honour to be asked – thanks Amy!

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Freedom to Read Week Day 3

There’s a character in my YA novel Apparition called Kip who is a little irreverent. That’s just the way he is. My heroine Amelia first meets him at a Halloween party where they are both wearing Bob Marley masks (pure coincidence) while all the other kids are dressed either as zombies or vampires. Kip surprises Amelia with his take on zombies:
“Jesus was a zombie, for Christ’s sake. That’s what Easter’s all about.”
“I never thought of it that way.” Holy jeez. He’s different.

“Are you kidding? Don’t you know about the ‘resurrection of the body’ stuff in the Bible? The Bible’s all about zombies.” 

“No, I seriously never thought of that.”
That’s just Kip being Kip. And yet, as the author, I worried vaguely about including that little exchange in my book. I wondered whether some Christians might take offense. Then some well-meaning person warned me that it might make it difficult to get my book onto reading lists in American schools. That made me gulp, and I asked myself whether I really needed to have Kip say it. I decided I did. Apparition hasn’t made it into American schools yet, but I’m not sure it’s Kip’s fault.
The point is that there’s more to the threat of censorship than book banning. There’s self-censorship, brought on by the fear that offending some people might hurt sales, the publisher’s bottom line, and eventually even my own already sad bank account.
But what really concerns me is not that some parent might take offense to the mild reference to the idea of the risen Jesus being a zombie, or even zombie-like. What bothers me is when people aren’t allowed to read something that others consider irreligious or irreverent. Being free to be irreverent about religion, about politics, about industry, about customs, in other words, about dominant views in society, is a critical part of every society that aspires to be democratic. The belief runs deep, even in western religious traditions, that the so-called “sacred cow” as fair game.
Those who take offense are always trying to protect their position, their interests and their power. I don’t blame them for wanting to, I just don’t think they should be allowed to shut other people up.
I’ve always had a soft spot for 17th century philosopher Baruch Spinoza, no stranger to pissing off religious authorities, who declared in his Theologico-Political Treatise that governments should have the authority to restrict the actions of their citizens. No problemo, he argued. But he added one small caveat: their citizens must be free to think and say (and write) whatever they will. What he counted on was that a society that allowed freedom of expression was the surest way to shape and foster a democracy, to keep its politicians clean and its laws fair. Because in order to effectively control people’s actions, you must also control their thoughts, and even better, push thinking itself right out the door. What keeps thoughts free is when they are engaged, agitated and inspired by their free exchange through words, speech and print. Free thoughts and words are the foundation of a just society.
So book banning, censorship, and even the pressures to self-censor, are the enemies of democracy. And offending those with the most power in society, even and sometimesespecially religious power, is a right that we must safeguard. Not for the sake of my character Kip necessarily, but for the sake of the next Salman Rushdie, and everyone in between.

Frrreezin’ Friggin’ Cold Memories of a favourite poem of my youth

imagesAll this cold weather takes me back to a favourite poem of my youth…

The Cremation of Sam McGee

BY ROBERT W. SERVICE

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
      By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
      That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
      But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
      I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam ’round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he’d often say in his homely way that “he’d sooner live in hell.”
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn’t see;
It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o’erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and “Cap,” says he, “I’ll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I’m asking that you won’t refuse my last request.”
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
“It’s the cursèd cold, and it’s got right hold till I’m chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet ’tain’t being dead—it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.”
A pal’s last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn’t a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn’t get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: “You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it’s up to you to cremate those last remains.”
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I’d often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the “Alice May.”
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then “Here,” said I, with a sudden cry, “is my cre-ma-tor-eum.”
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: “I’ll just take a peep inside.
I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked”; … then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: “Please close that door.
It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
      By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
      That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
      But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
      I cremated Sam McGee.

“Getting Your Teen to Read” by Christine Stock

The Blog below is posted by Christine Stock in the Huffington Post:

Ask any high school teacher you know: there are certain questions from parents that come up time and time again during parent-teacher interviews. The most common ones are usually marks related, but English teachers will tell you that parents also want to know how they can foster the joy of reading in teens who claim to “hate” books and wouldn’t read one if their lives depended on it.

As sad as I am to say it, traditional high school English classrooms probably don’t inspire much reading for pleasure. I don’t know a whole lot of kids who care that Fitzgerald used synaesthesia as a tool in The Great Gatsby or that Shakespeare loved his dramatic irony. But even reluctant readers can find books to enjoy if provided with the right options.

First and foremost, do talk to your teen about her reluctance to read. You need to determine if your teen has a lack of interest or is struggling with something more significant like comprehension (in which case you should contact your teen’s English teacher as soon as possible). But if your teen claims that his reluctance stems from boredom or laziness, consider the following:

Don’t try to force a teen to read (or do anything for that matter). Your teen is not going to read a book just because you liked it or it’s on a reading list for school. So don’t let your teen’s class syllabus be her only selection when it comes to reading material.

Do provide your teen with books that focus on his personal interests. Thanks to the success of Harry PotterThe Hunger GamesTwilight, and other book series in recent years, publishers have inundated the public with Young Adult Literature. I am certain that there is a book out there that discusses at least one thing your teen likes. Is your teen into airplanes, war stories, codes, and spies? Consider Elizabeth Wein’s Code Name Verity. What about tales of Armageddon, mass destruction, survival, and aliens? Pick up a copy of Rick Yancey’s The Fifth Wave. Paranormal activities, mysteries, and old haunted barns? Then Gail Gallant’s Apparition is a must.

Do consider your teen’s favourite course in school when making book selections. Does she excel in Physics? Kari Luna’s The Theory of Everything discusses string theory and alternate universes. Is your teen consumed with Tech and Computer classes? Alex London’s bookProxy is filled with awesome, not-so-futuristic technological inventions. What about Religion or Equity Studies? All the Truth That’s in Me by Julie Berry is an excellent story about the oppression of small-village life.

Do consider the didactic and therapeutic qualities a book can have on a teen struggling with hardships. There are numerous well-written books out there that focus on tough topics, including Matthew Quick’s Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock (abuse, bullying, and suicide), Elise Moser’s Lily and Taylor (physical and sexual abuse), and Suzanne Sutherland’s When We Were Good (death and LGBTQ), among others.

Don’t disregard the impact that film adaptations can have. Why not buy your teen copies of Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief or Veronica Roth’s Divergent and stick movie passes in them? Or get John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars and include the YouTube site for the movie trailer? Falling in love with the story on the big screen just may inspire your teen to relive the glory of it in book form.

Don’t focus too much on stereotypical topics. Sometimes a teen’s reluctance stems from being introduced to a publisher’s idea of single-gender readership. Always focus on your own teen’s specific interests when making your selection.

Do try to frequent smaller, privately owned bookstores. The employees are far more likely to have read the selection of books and can give you honest feedback about the quality of writing and the maturity of subject matter. They will spend the time talking to your teen about his or her interests, and can offer appropriate selections.

And finally, do keep your eyes open for new releases. Publishers and Web sites devoted to book reviews will keep you informed of the newest and hottest YA literature available. Once you’ve identified what your teen likes, you can keep prepared with the next great read.

For my recommendations, identified by topics of interest and curriculum connections, please visit www.greatreads4teens.com.

Follow Christine Stock on Twitter: www.twitter.com/gr8reads4teens

http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/christine-stock/getting-your-teens-to-read_b_4480108.html

Wonderful article in the Owen Sound Sun Times

Grey County huge part of book

By Rob Gowan, Sun Times, Owen Sound

Sunday, December 15, 2013 2:31:13 EST PM

Gail Gallant wanted to call her first book Grey County because the novel wouldn’t exist without it.

1297504287441_ORIGINAL“I would have never written a book if I weren’t here,” said Gallant, one of about 15 local authors gathered at the Ginger Press in downtown Owen Sound on Saturday for its 28th annual authors’ open house. “It is completely inspiredby the landscape. The landscape and the weather are all in there.”

The Annan-area author’s murder mystery thriller, Apparition, released in September, is set in and around Owen Sound and tells the story of a teenage girl name Amelia who sees ghosts and the adventures in her life it causes.

Gallant said the working title of the book was always Grey County because it seemed so natural. The name change didn’t come until she was looking for a publisher, which she found in Doubleday Canada (Random House).

“Grey County to me surmises the book,” said Gallant, who was a weekender in Grey County for about a decade before moving to the area about two years ago. “I have a lot of geographic references like Inglis Falls, the Bruce Trail and some of the local parks and cemeteries.”

While the area is known for its beauty, Gallant said in a different light it can also be a very spooky place.

“On our property we used to have a dead apple orchard and there was nothing more Tim Burton than that apple orchard,” said Gallant. “It is very spooky and I have to say it arose naturally from my own emotional response to the landscape and the history in the landscape.”

Gallant said she loves the delapidated beauty in the old barns that are scattered across the area and has always been obsessed with the old cemeteries throughout the countryside.

“I don’t want to get nostalgic like there is only history here, because there is also an amazing future,” said Gallant. “But I think there is something deep about the feeling of the past here.”

Much of the book centres around a haunted barn, which is based on a rundown barn at a property Gallant owned south of Meaford.

“Eventually we took it down because it was half falling down, but it was spooky and somewhere along the line I started imagining a story,” said Gallant.

It was about a dozen years ago and Gallant’s son was going through some tough times as a young teen and Gallant imagined a story of a ghost in the barn that was forcing young boys to commit suicide and it had to be stopped. Gallant, who kept the story in note form, couldn’t bring herself to complete the book until about four years ago, when she decided to tell the story through the eyes of a teenage girl, rather than a mother after her son — who is doing well now and works in a bookstore — bought her a book from the Twilight series.

“As soon as I adopted the point of view as a teenage girl, the book came out,” said Gallant, who is originally from Toronto and has worked in television as a producer and director for the CBC and done freelance work for about 20 years.

Gallant said the book has been categorized as for teens and she has received a good response from teen readers, but the book is also quite serious.

“It is not a fantasy, it is really dealing with things like death and loss,” said Gallant. “The narrator is probably a lot more confused and a little neurotic and troubled than the average teen narrator.”

Gallant has already written a sequel, called Absolution, that is currently in the copy editing stage. It is slated to be released next fall.

Gallant said the local landscape again plays a major role in the new book, which she feels is an improvement on her first.

“”Grey County is right through both books,” Gallant said. “I don’t think it could have been a bigger part of it.”

Maryann Thomas, owner of the Ginger Press, said Saturday’s event was an opportunity to bring together authors so they can connect and share stories and meet with the public. The event has turned out to be a celebration of local literacy in the community.

Thomas, who opened the Ginger Press 35 years ago, said the store has made a deeper commitment to new and old books by local authors and about the region and that has led to the store now having more than 70% local content.

“I think that is a phenomenal statement about the wealth of literature in the community,” said Thomas.

Santa’s Reading List: YA Edition

Honoured to be included in this great reviewer’s Santa’s Reading List, YA Edition!

Canadian Gift Guide

A final peek in Santa’s sack reveals a bounty of amazing reads for young adults (and those not-so-young actual adults that simply love to indulge in one of the hottest genres around). These aren’t your pastel-coated, blonde twin-starring books my friends. Today’s YA is responsible for spurring on some of the world’s largest movie franchises, creating hotly contested love triangles, and special preorder editions and launch parties with each book. Whether you’ve picked up a Twilight or Hunger Games in the past or you’re completely uninitiated, rest assured, there’s plenty of diversity to hook you. Note that for the purposes of this post, all prices are suggested list prices.

All The Truth Thats In Me
All the Truth That’s In Me by Julie Berry – $19
I’m going to start this little review off by saying that I had a lot of physical discomfort while reading this book…but it was still flippin’ fantastic. Set in…

View original post 3,708 more words

Teen suicide in Apparition

Teenage suicide plays a central role in my novel Apparition.  That’s no accident.  Suicide, especially amongst the young, is something I’ve thought about a lot, for a very long time. That doesn’t make me an expert. Just opinionated.

Arctic cemetery

A cemetery in the high Arctic, with many graves marking the deaths of teens.

We all know someone from our teenage years who didn’t make it out alive, either because they committed suicide or died in what seemed like a willful act of self abuse.  And many of us have lived with the terrible fear that someone we love is suicidal and we don’t know what to do about it. The suicide of a family member or friend is a unique body blow because that terrible pain is twisted with perplexity.  It feels like the most unnecessary of deaths.  Why couldn’t the murderer and murder victim come to some kind of understanding, reconciled, avoided this extreme and irreversible outcome? Surely something could have been done to prevent this?

But I know from personal experience how attractive the thought of suicide can be. The future can have such a bleak “no, not again” feel about it with no hope for change but only the intolerable sameness of the intolerable present. Nothing but more meaningless suffering and unhappiness. It’s like being on a train and you’re confident of where it’s headed, because it’s somewhere you’ve already been, somewhere you hate. The only desire you’ve got is to get off the train.

But if life is a train, we don’t know for sure where it’s going, we don’t know what’s around the corner, and it’s dumb to presume that it will be more of the same old horror. It’s a subjective and unscientific assumption. We might be wrong. We really don’t know what’s around the corner. Suicide is about powerlessness, hopelessness, despair. But it’s also about a failure of imagination.  The future might be something different, unexpected. Something interesting. Not only because the train tracks are unpredictable – because WE are unpredictable too. There’s always more to us than even we can see.

I don’t know where I got the idea that the suicidal mood is like being possessed by a ghost, but I began to imagine that the suicidal urge passes when the spirit possessing you finally releases you and moves on. You just have to wait for the suicidal ghost to bugger off. Ride him out. It won’t take forever. It might only take a weekend. Being possessed by a ghost is a metaphor for a bad mood.

And that was the earliest seed of the Apparition premise: a suicidal teenage boy, and the desperate attempt of his sister to stop him from killing himself. It real life, it’s hard to get someone who feels suicidal to “snap out of it”. The dark circumstances of a personal’s life can seem so complicated and far-reaching.  And we all know that there are other medical circumstances that can make a bad mood cling. But most of the time, if you can ride through a really dark mood, you often find that even a few days later, you feel a little better. And that’s a new beginning, and it could turn out to be much better than you’d imagined. You just need to hang around and find out.

Want to Buy a Haunted House?

I’ve always felt that old houses give off emotions, and I’ve been especially aware of it when house-hunting. I know that sounds like basic psychological projecting, but I like to call it intuition.

I think emotions can linger in the air and penetrate walls like cigarette smoke. Most of the time I feel nothing in particular, or nothing that I can name, but every once in a while, there’s a sadness or fear or anger or happiness. Then there’s the whole issue of ghosts. I don’t normally worry about whether the house actually has a ghost, at least not during daylight hours.

Haunted house 2

There’s a beautiful old property with boarded up windows and a real estate ‘for sale’ sign only about 5 minutes away from our farmhouse in Grey County. I’ve been inside a few times, because it used to be a restaurant. In fact, it used to be three or four different restaurants over the last dozen years alone. None survived for very long.

I don’t think the problem was ever the food or service.  At least, that’s not what one of the servers in the second last restaurant establishment told us as she waited on our table. She said that everyone who worked there knew that the house is haunted. Specifically, there is a young phantom child, a girl, who hangs around on the second floor. Numerous patrons had seen her over the years.  She told us of a number of strange goings-on in the kitchen too. She even invited us to go take a wander in the empty rooms upstairs before we left, and we did. We didn’t actually see anybody up there but, well, I did have a funny feeling.

I wrote about this place in APPARITION. Morris Dyson tells Amelia about the house’s remarkable and rich history, including its time as a safe house on the Underground Railway for Africans escaping from slavery in the southern United States, and later, as a brothel serving the sailors passing through Owen Sound, a bustling port on the Great Lakes at the turn of the century.

The server also mentioned that the haunted history of the house was included in the legal description when the property last changed hands. Mark Weisleder is a Toronto real estate lawyer who writes a column in Toronto Star, and he had this to say about selling a haunted house: “My advice is that if you know about psychological defects in a property, disclose them and avoid unnecessary proceedings later. If as a buyer you are concerned, include a clause in your contract that the seller has no knowledge that the property is haunted and that no murders or suicides ever occurred on the property.” And if you buy a house that you later discover was known to be haunted, you can always sue. You might win your case.

So, will this house ever be a happy home again? With the big box stores moving ever further east along this stretch of highway leading out of Owen Sound, its future is more likely demolition for some big American store chain’s parking lot.  A sad end, when maybe all that ghost girl needs is a little human kindness.

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