top of page
Search

A Story for Halloween

Writer's picture: Rosemary GemmellRosemary Gemmell

Since it’s spooky season, and my birthday this weekend, I thought you might like a free read of my Halloween story, Samhain, which is published in my End of the Road short story collection. © Rosemary Gemmell


Samhain

 

As the festival of Samhain began on the remote Scottish island on All Hallows’ Eve, the air was already thick with a swirling mist, as though the island clothed itself in an atmosphere of mystery and foreboding as befitted the season.

Alaina continued sitting by her log fire as late afternoon darkened into evening, determined to ignore the faint feeling of menace that had plagued her most of the day. It was her own fault, since she’d refused all offers of company, preferring to be alone on this night. No doubt the locals thought she’d gone a bit funny since her loss and she did nothing to contradict that opinion. Even her two friends had almost given up on her but were concerned enough to offer their company. They showed no surprise when she refused it.

She had been waiting a whole year since that night when her beloved young husband suffered the accident that so cruelly tore him from her life. A year in which her life had ground to a halt, when she’d understood what people meant when they spoke of losing your other half and how it left you only half alive. No one could understand if they hadn’t experienced such loss. They might try to sympathise or empathise, but it was difficult at times not to show impatience with their well-meaning platitudes. So they gave up trying.

And now she had to be ready and waiting, alone.

Clothed in the silence of the small cottage, Alaina heard the occasional sound of laughter and footsteps passing her door but knew none of the children would bring their Halloween guising to her door. She’d noticed the way the youngsters always avoided her and she sometimes heard the whispers in the village before escaping the speculative glances to return to her sanctuary.

The local librarian, curiosity in every glance, every encouraging smile, often seemed on the point of engaging her in conversation when she stamped the books on folk legends, festivals and myths that Alaina had now exhausted. But Alaina would mutter, “thank you, I must hurry home.”

She had no further sources of information. She had no Internet in the cottage, although the small library had updated itself with a computer where she could have extended her research by ‘surfing the net’, she believed it was called. But she had no interest in technology and hated the idea of searching in public. Besides, she’d found out all the necessary information for her plans.

Now the day itself had finally arrived. A television programme had first alerted her to the original meaning of Halloween. Once she had started reading about Samhain, eve of the Celtic New Year, she became obsessed with the fine detail and legends about the one night of the year when the spirits of the dead roamed the land.

The popular names of Halloween and All Hallows’ Eve had sanitised it to some extent making it an evening of revelry and disguise, especially among the children with their galoshans. For a moment she felt a pang of remembrance and regret for those innocent childhood years, when she was the one knocking on the village doors with her friends in a variety of guises that had become more fanciful with age and experience.

She had loved reciting her own version of a favourite poem or belting out a nursery rhyme in exchange for nuts, apples and the occasional shiny coin. But that was a long time ago and she had never got around to providing the same treats for the present village children. Alaina was relieved her reputation kept the children away. She couldn’t risk having to talk to anyone tonight. Except the one person she hoped would come.

Living on such a remote island meant she came up against the older, more pagan ways occasionally. She had no particular interest in ghosts and witchcraft, or Wicca as the old religion named it, but was more interested in the beliefs and superstition surrounding this particular evening. She could mock along with others at the idea of evil spirits, or witches and faeries out to make mischief. But she still had an ancient red-berried rowan tree growing in the garden for protection against the black arts.

But one particular aspect of Samhain gripped her imagination and grew in importance. Tonight, while the curtain between the two worlds was thinnest, those trapped in the other world could make their bid for escape, allowing the dead to return to the living. It was the only possible chance to see her lost love again in this life.

Some on the island still lit the bonfires that once guided the lost souls through the darkness, as well as warning the evil spirits to stay away. But her interest lay only in what could happen within her own home. She wondered, in an idle curiosity kind of way, if she really had lost her mind. Yet she had been able to consider all the implications with a certain matter-of-factness.

Her husband, the soul mate of her existence, had died exactly one year ago when his car unaccountably swerved on the hill road and burst into flames as it toppled over the edge. Inconsolable, then angry at his leaving her, an overwhelming sense of loss and gnawing grief finally consumed her, before finding this one hope of being reunited. Tonight. It had to be that easy.

Alaina shivered as she stoked the dying embers of the fire before crowning it with another log. She watched as the wood caught, the flames licking around its edges as it began to consume it with increasing hunger. The fire provided her only light, apart from the essential candles surrounding the room. She was aware suddenly of the eerie silence. The sound of laughter and children’s feet had long faded away. Total darkness had fallen outside while time crept onwards.

Only the crackling of the flames, as they curled around the log to reach towards the chimney, broke the stillness. Then the hairs on the back of her neck alerted her to a change in the atmosphere.

Her senses heightened. She could smell the rising smoke, mingled with a stronger essence she couldn’t identify. She saw shadows in the corners of the room where none had been before. She heard whispers, but no discernible words reached her ears. She tasted unknown fear.

Alaina touched her short hair. Although damp with sweat, she felt a shivering coldness in spite of the fire. Then the candles began flickering one by one as though someone passed by each flame.

Her heart suddenly fluttered in anticipation. He was coming. The shadows shifted. Alaina started from her chair. She sensed the strong emotion, the desperate love she had thought lost forever.

He had heard her aching need and now he returned to be with her, when the door between the two worlds allowed his passage. The log shifted on the fire, suspended for a moment over the hearth.

Moving away from her chair, Alaina tried to follow the indiscernible movement. Turning back towards the hearth, she stood bathed in the sudden glow of firelight. Slowly, she held out her arms.

Now, he stood before her. She saw him clearly, a shadow outline against the red and yellow glow. She stepped forwards, wondering why he didn’t come to her. The warmth of his body enveloped her before she reached him and she saw his arms rise as though ready to embrace her. But still he made no move to approach her.

His features were indistinct, but this was her love; it had to be. She took another step, and sweat began to trickle down her cheeks. It was so very hot. But why could she not see his beloved face? Why didn’t he speak?

Alaina hesitated as she reached out to touch him. The heat was overwhelming. The smell of burning flesh. Then, at last, she heard his whispering voice.

“My love...come…take my hand, and we shall be together once more.”

“Together again. Yes,” she answered. As it should be. Together again for tonight and always. Her hands were almost in his. Now he would come by her side and be flesh again.

Alaina let her body draw closer to his shadow form. To a place of hot, exquisite pain, where she yet felt more alive than at any time in the past year. Then she suddenly understood.

Her lover was not coming back to this world. He was taking her to his.

Alaina lifted her arms to surrender herself to his loving embrace. “I’m ready my love.”


If you like Halloween fiction, here are a few other suggestions set in Scotland:

My full length contemporary Scottish Gothic suspense novel, Highcrag, is set in the lead-up to Samhain and mentions the old Scottish witch trials.

My 4th novella in the Victorian Maryanne Mystery series, The Veil Between, takes place in a country house in the Scottish Borders at Halloween.

Myra Duffy’s Killing Time at Kilchattan is an Alison Cameron Halloween cosy mystery set on the Isle of Bute.

Victoria Gemmell’s YA novel, Promise Me, is a gripping mystery that begins with a Halloween party.

 

Happy Guising!

Rosemary

50 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • YouTube
  • Pinterest
  • Amazon
  • Instagram
bottom of page