Ghosts of Christmas Past

 By Maureen Bonatch

When I was young I absolutely adored Christmas. I counted down the days, decorated anything and everything and believed in the magic of the season far longer than most my age. 

Then I Grew Up

The holidays became expensive and exhausting. I'd still be excited when the season rolled around, but I was just as happy once it was done. 

Magic, Mimosas & Mistletoe

2020 wasn't the best year for most, and the holidays were looking even less inviting. So when I sat down for November's National Novel Writing Month, I really struggled with my story. Until I decided that I would change it to a Christmas story featuring a witch who loved Halloween, but without her help, Christmas might be ruined. 

The thoughts and images of spreading cheer with family and friends elevated my mood. I binged on holiday movies and played Christmas music way earlier than I ever have to write this holiday story. 

Except in MAGIC, MIMOSAS & MISTLETOE (a story from my Charmed Cocktail Cozy series), I found a way to combine Halloween and Christmas.   

Oh, and it's a paranormal cozy mystery, so there might be a murder or two...and some ghosts.

A little About MAGIC, MIMOSAS & MISTLETOE

I don’t see dead people, but my dog does. 

 

Hi, I’m Marissa Hale. When my friend, Grace invites me to visit the Inn she inherited, I’m high-tailing it back to my home state of Pennsylvania. Like most things in life, there are strings attached to her inheritance—and these ones have twinkly lights. The Inn, and the town, are Christmas themed. No witch worth her broom would choose Christmas over Halloween, unless that witch’s bloodline is the magic mainline for keeping the yuletide spirit alive. 

Her aunt’s death was already suspicious, but then we stumble upon a dead body amongst the poinsettias that resembles one of Santa’s fabled elves. It sure seems like someone is trying to force Grace to sell Kringle Inn. I’m going to need all the help I can get to solve these crimes, and save Christmas, but when the only witnesses are a pig, and a ghost, I’m not sure that’s going to be enough… 

 

Click Here To Get Your Copy

An Excerpt featuring Marissa and her cat, Jasper, from my book MAGIC, MIMOSAS & MISTLETOE 

 

Everyone would be a suspect until I proved them innocent—or I tired of determining if there had truly been a murder. It was better than contemplating the Christmas holidays when it wasn't Halloween yet. “It's nothing like that. The spell provides a way to ride along with someone and see and hear what they see. Like a little spy.” 

“What do you mean by a ride along? If you're referring to me, which I'm guessing by the look in your two current eyes, I can tell you it will not work. You're,” he raked his gaze over me, “many, many times my size.” 

“Not in person, silly. I would ride along in your mind.” 

Jasper let out a hiss and jumped to the floor, backing away with his tail raised. “In my mind? What kind of hocus pocus are you getting into? Most likely, it wouldn't work. With your lackluster spelling abilities, you could end up trapped there, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. Who would remember to feed me?” 

“Enough of the insults about my spelling.” Most of them were true, but I was practicing and getting better. Potions were more my thing. Well, they were getting to be my thing. “It's not an evil spell, so I shouldn't get more black streaks in my hair.”

 

“I'm not worried about your hair. Besides, there's nothing wrong with black hair. Feast your eyes on my glorious fur.” He swished his tail from side-to-side. “Yes, you're lovely, whatever. Now, listen. I know this spell sounds far-fetched, but it could be fun.” 

“Nope, not fun at all. Zero fun. Nada.” He kept backing away toward the door. 

“But I thought you wanted to be my familiar?” It was low of me to play that card, but I knew how to sway him to my favor. 

Jasper stopped and remained silent for a moment as he considered it. “I don't see how that matters in this situation.” 

“Our bond could grow stronger with a spell like this. Who knows? You might gain some magic yourself.” I did not know if any of this was true. 

He paused and lowered his tail. “You're joking.” 

“No, I've heard it could happen. I can't guarantee it would, but it's possible. If anything were to go wrong, Grace is here. She could fix it.” 

Jasper nodded. “That much I can agree on. Grace is much better at spelling than you'll ever be, and I've never seen one dark strand in her hair.” 

I clapped my hands together. “We can find out much more about everyone this way.” 

“You mean you can. Obviously, this is how I always find out things. You're just jealous you don't have my stealth and want it for yourself. There are benefits to being small.” 

I stood from the bed and grabbed my oversized purse. “Let's get started.” “Now?” Jasper's eyes widened. I stopped digging in the bottomless pit that was my purse. “Why not? We can try to approach Wilber again.” 

“What, and get stomped on with one of his cloven hoofs, or mixed into his dinner trough?” 

I waved him off. “I can help you with finessing the conversation. I already have all the ingredients gathered here in my purse, so let's get ready.” 

“You were optimistic that I was going to agree to this spell, I see.” Jasper leapt on the bed. “Elevated to the role of familiar, you say?” 

“Maybe? I knew you'd see my side.” I laid out a small bowl and the ingredients, including the one item Sabina insisted was essential. I had to make it myself to personalize it to the spell. With limited time and supplies available for crafting, it wasn’t perfect. 

“What in the tuna is that?” Jasper shrieked. 

“This?” I knew the tiny homemade voodoo cat doll might push him over the edge. “It's nothing. The figure helps to make sure this works right and that I end up in the correct person's thoughts that we intended the spell for.” 

Mulder came stumbling into the room, falling over his feet on the slippery floor and taking a nosedive. He came to a stop with a skittering of paws at the foot of the bed. His irritated huffs and raised behind confirmed that he’d discovered something of interest under the bed.

Jasper studied me with a wary expression. “Don't you think we need to tell Grace what we're doing here first?” 

I shrugged and sat on the bed. “She's busy. No need to worry her. Besides, what could go wrong?” 

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What is Your Favorite Thing About the Holidays? 

 P.S. It’s November aka: National Novel Writing Month – I’d better get writing!

 

Just a small-town girl, Maureen Bonatch leads a double life. She lives in a magical world as a novelist, and as a nurse leader in reality. Maureen’s first novella was a paranormal romance published when blogs were a new-fangled thing. She’s since changed her focus to writing paranormal cozy mysteries as M.L. Bonatch and urban fantasy as Maureen Bonatch. 

While she’s not busy writing or doing nurse-things, she’s a mom to her twin daughters, bicycling in the beautiful woods of PA with her hubby, doing the bidding of a feisty Shih Tzu, and dancing as much as possible. She believes music can be paired with every mood, laughter is contagious, and that caffeine and wine are essential for survival.

 Follow M.L. Bonatch all through cyberspace! 

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Witches and Spells - Including One for You!

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. Witches. The very word brings different images to mind from ugly old hags to real beauties. Witches delight us in stories by challenging our imagination and suspending reality for just a while. Oh, if only I could have a magic wand to get the housework done, suspend time to write more words... now there's a thought.

That brings me to spells. The very first spell I clearly remember is salagadoola mechicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. Put them together and what do you get? Cinderella! A magic coach, horses, a footman, glass slippers and a beautiful ball gown and let’s not forget the handsome prince.

What makes the fairy-godmother’s words a spell? A spell is much like a prayer said with a great deal of intent, focus, and will that gives words (or nonsense ones) new meanings. Deborah Blake, an authority on Wiccans, explains that taking a shower can be a magical event. Your intent or goal is to wash away the stress of the day. You focus on the water pouring down on you and visualize your stress being washed away. Your will is to apply energy to the task. Along with the words she uses to increase the impact of the magick “Water, water, wash away all the stress of the day,” your shower becomes magickal.

So, is Cinderella’s fairy-godmother invoking magick? Her fairy-godmother cast her spell speaking an incantation to create a specific outcome. She clearly imagined what she wanted. She intended the magic coach, horse, etc. to all appear. She was keenly focused on the results. And through sheer will she used all the energy at her disposal to make it happen.

What is a spell? Spells are written or spoken words along with set action sometimes using objects, done together with the intent to bring about specific results. The words are the important thing. The actions and objects are used to help the spellcaster concentrate and amplify their request. The spellcaster uses what they feel works best for them candles, herbs, oils, gems and other things. Color, phases of the moon and the day of the week may also play an important part of the spell.

Are there any rules for using magick? Deborah Blake, in her book, The Goddess is in the Details by Llewellyn Publications, July 2009, lays out the seven beliefs at the heart of being a witch.

1. Harm none. The Wiccan Rede says, “An it harm none, do as ye will.” While this sounds simple, whatever you do make certain you harm no one. That includes yourself and anyone else. She pointed out quite clearly that downstream affects are really unknown. This rule is a guideline and a reminder that the intent should always be to do good.  
2. Do not interfere with free will. Everyone is responsible for their own actions and should not interfere with the actions of others. Not every witch (other regular person for that matter) seems to believe in this.
3. What you put out (into the universe) is what you get back. The Law of Return. I believe very strongly in this rule and I’m not a witch. I call it paying it forward. I truly believe that if you give of yourself will come back to you threefold.
4. As above, so below: Words have power. Witches believe that words have power. It is the reason why spells are said out loud—to announce your intention to the universe. They also believe symbols can be used to heighten the effects of words and can stand for objects or ideas. Sometimes they use candles, stones, water, wine, or anything that will help connect them to the object or idea. As above, so below means they not only have the power to effect change through symbolism and their connection with the universe, but they must also be careful with their words and thoughts. Ms. Blake gave a great example. If words have power, and you get back what you put out, think what would happen when you say, “I hate you.”
5. Magick is real and witches can use it to bring about positive change. With combination of their belief that they can bring about positive change and the power of words and symbols, they use intent and focus to alter their world.
6. We are part of nature. All Pagans have one thing in common—they respect nature and believe they are a part of it, not above it. While traditional religions view humans as superior, Pagans see themselves as guardians. Witches worship the mother earth, the nature goddess. They follow the cycle of the seasons and strive to connect to nature and stay close to their primordial gods.
7. The divine is in everything, including us. Pagans believe in the old gods and goddesses and that there is an element of the divine in everything. This is at the heart of what it means to be a witch. This connection to the universe and to the divine gives witches both power and responsibility. It connects them to every other living being.

So, let me leave you with this. Find a comfortable place to sit where you won’t be disturbed. Light a white candle, take a sip of red wine, hold the book your reading, and say:  

The winds are still,

as the words unfold.

Strong is the will,

as the story is told.

Peace fills the room,

and carries me away.

Imagination in bloom,

the rest of the day.

Now sit back, open your book and enjoy the adventure. Happy Reading!

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Lost: One locket filled with memories. 

Will finding it lead Rachel to peace and happiness? 

The Witching Hour

by Ruth A. Casie 

featured in 

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with stories by

Emma Kaye

Nicole S. Patrick

Lita Harris

Now available at:

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Ghost of the Nile Excerpt

Veronica sez: From the Archives because  the ebook of Ghost of the Nile (Gods of Egypt) is on sale NOW at Amazon only right now for $.99

Frauke Spanuth of Croco Designs came up with the beautiful art for me, as she always does for my ancient Egyptian fantasies (except for one time where she had no availability). I love working with her.

Here's the story:

1550 BCE

Betrayed, murdered, and buried without proper ceremony, Egyptian warrior Periseneb is doomed to roam the gray deserts of the dead as a ghost for all eternity.

But then the goddess of truth offers him a bargain: return to the world of the living as her champion for 30 days. If he completes his mission, he’ll be guaranteed entry into Paradise. Periseneb agrees to the bargain but, when he returns to the living world, two hundred years have passed and nothing is quite as he expected.

Neithamun is a woman fighting to hang onto her family’s estate against an unscrupulous nobleman who desires the land as well as the lady. All seems lost until a mysterious yet appealing ex-soldier, Periseneb, appears out of nowhere to help her fight off the noble’s repeated attacks.

Meanwhile, Periseneb’s thirty days are rushing by, and he’s powerless against the growing attraction between himself and Neithamun. But their love can never be. For his Fate is to return to the Afterlife, and Death cannot wed with Life…

And a short excerpt for you...the goddess Ma'at is speaking:

"...I’m the goddess of second chances for the human race.” She raised her elegant eyebrows. “Although such chances are few and far between.”

            Despite the warmth of the brightly lit room, a shiver worked its way down Periseneb’s spine. “You wish to right the wrong of my murder? Bring my murderer to account for the crime?”

            She shook her head, the golden beads in her wig chiming like little bells. “Your death is done, past, woven into the fabric of life in the upper world these two-hundred years and more.”

            He staggered, locking one hand on the edge of the table to steady himself. “So long?”

            “Time here and time there run differently, warrior. Only the Nile remains unchanging.” She moved to the black-and-gold chair, seating herself and leaning against the richly decorated back. “Yet, your death is connected in a way to events now.” Ma’at nodded her head as if some decision had been reached. “I need a champion.”

            “To do what? How can a human accomplish something the gods or their servants can’t?” Action sounded good, but he was wary after his time in the outer dark. She didn’t invite him to sit—he didn’t think he was brave enough to sit in the presence of a Great One—so he assumed parade rest stance. When in doubt, Periseneb’s code was to rely on what the military had taught him.

            “Matters are in flux in Egypt. A new pharaoh sits on the throne and he’s repelled the forces of the god Qemtusheb, the great enemy of my King, Osiris. For a time.” Ma’at raised one finger as if her listener might rejoice prematurely. “Evil constantly seeks to re-enter the Black Lands, seize its richness and feed, grow stronger.”

            Taking little interest in the affairs of a pharaoh he’d never met, Periseneb spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I can’t fight the Hyksos god.”

            “Gods have agents. Pawns. Sometimes even the innocent commit acts advancing a Dark One’s agenda, merely because the mortal mind lacks understanding of a god’s agenda. Each of us on the other side of the scale must do our part to balance the evil.” As her shoulders slumped as if with great weariness, Ma’at sighed. Then she straightened her back and smiled. “To business. I need a champion to go to the Nome of the Shield…”

            “My home province,” he said, knowing his voice was unsteady. Memories flooded into his mind, past the blocks he’d erected to keep away thoughts of home and family. No coward when it came to physical pain, he feared the agony any dream of his birthplace brought to his heart.

            Apparently oblivious to his inner struggle, Ma’at nodded. “Events are in motion there. I wish to influence the outcome, but it isn’t the kind of situation I can affect directly.” She tapped the table with her stylus. “Nor can I be absent from my duties here for so long as this task may require.”

            He found it hard to imagine a goddess walking in his home province for any time at all. Shield Nome was dry, dusty, and far removed from Thebes and the known places of power. “What do you need done?”

            Head tilted, smile on her ruby red lips, she said, “You to complete your interrupted journey home.”   

         Disappointed, since he’d been thinking of battles with demons or other epic deeds, he said, “That’s all? Show up two-hundred years late and say, here I am? Who would know me now? Who would care? I have no place there, Great One.” His voice cracked a little on the last sentence and he clamped his lips closed, taking a deep breath. Thinking about the simple dreams he’d cherished as a man hurt like a knife to the heart. All gone, turned to dust.

Amazon    

Ghost Week: Failure at the Stanley Hotel

The Stanley Hotel

In August, my husband and I went to Denver. While we were there, we took a little side trip an hour-and-a-half north to a beautiful little town called Estes Park. The air grew thinner as we drove into the Rockies, but the drive on the way up was gorgeous, even if we couldn’t breathe. Estes Park was a cozy, touristy town filled with quaint shops, a surprising amount of people walking dogs, and a sparkling lake.

And looking down on it all was our destination: The Stanley Hotel.

In case you’re not familiar, the Stanley Hotel is where Stephen King wrote The Shining. The Overlook Hotel in the story is based on the Stanley’s ghostly history. Stephen King famously stayed in room 217, which is purported to be haunted.

 But we had reservations for the most haunted room in the entire place: room 401.

We were pretty excited. And nervous. Also, exhausted, after driving over nine hours to get there and

The famous hedge maze in the movie is not so big in real life.

not having quite as much oxygen as we were accustomed to, so we decided to forgo the hour-long walking tour of the ginormous hotel and opted, instead, for drinks and an early dinner in the bar. Seriously, the Colorado Mule Kick was fabulous.

No worries about missing the tour! Every two hours, the tour stopped right in front of our hotel room. We heard every word. Lord Dunraven, whose picture was outside our door, was a womanizer, even in the afterlife. Women who took off their wedding rings would find them missing the next morning. The staff always found the rings in the bathtub drain. Men would find their wallets in the toilet. And women who went into the closet would get pinched.

Spotted this in the tour office. All work and no play...

I took a million pictures in that room. Not so much as a single orb showed up. We heard no ghostly children playing in the halls. The antique elevator never acted up.

I don’t take my wedding ring off unless I’m make meatloaf or piecrust, so that was never an issue. But I just got my husband a cool "Agents of Shield" leather wallet for Father’s Day, so I stuck it in my purse to confuse the womanizing ghost. I guess it worked, because it was still there the next day.

Every single time I went to the closet to take pictures, I knocked first. “Hey, Lord Dunraven? I’m coming in to take a picture, please.” He never pinched me.

Maybe that makes it sound like we were cool cookies, waiting fearlessly for something to happen. But I’m going to be honest. We didn’t sleep very well. I totally psyched myself out. Every time I woke up, I imagined the earl would be standing over our bed watching us sleep.

I woke up a lot.

Colorado Mule Kick. Tasty!

Somewhere around 3:30 AM, the fear passed—though the expectation of a ghostly peeping Tom did
not. I didn’t care. I was so damn tired, if Lord Dunraven wanted to watch me sleep, fine, as long as he let me get some rest.

So, what did we learn? My husband and I really aren’t cut out for ghost hunting. We were totally unprepared, having not brought along any sort of EVP recorder, thermal cam, or night-vision goggles. We failed to ask the ghosts to communicate with us. And honestly, we went out of our way to be polite and not provoke him/them. We kind of sucked.

But it wasn’t a waste. It was an adventure, regardless of results.

And that Colorado Mule Kick was delicious.

Rachel writes stories that drop average people into magical situations filled with heart and quirky humor.

She believes in pixie dust, the power of love, good cheese, lucky socks and putting things off until the last minute. Her home is Disneyland, despite her current location in Kansas. Rachel has one husband, two grown kids and a crazy-catlady starter kit.





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