THE WORST TREE FOR THE BEST CHRISTMAS

Every year shortly before Christmas, usually a week or two, it became my sister, Mary’s, and my job to go with Pop into the pine forest to find our Christmas tree. My parents frowned on the idea of purchasing a Christmas tree and the artificial trees, like those aluminum trees with the spotlight that changed colors was considered outrageous and, well, blasphemous in Mom and Pop’s eyes.

Me With My Parents (actually I was about 17 in this picture. Mom made this "Beatle Outfit" for me)

Pop once said his family just cut pine branches, stuck them in a vase to serve as a tree. They put real candles on it and my grandfather McNeal stood guard with a bucket of water in case of fire. This scenario would not suffice for the discerning tastes of my sister and me. No sir, only a big, fluffy pine tree would do. And Pop knew how important Christmas was to Mom, and therefore, put forth every effort to unplug his inner Scrooge.

In our neck of the woods here in North Carolina, cedar trees are a whole lot more plentiful than other conifers and they smell heavenly with lacy looking branches, but they unfortunately droop under the weight of Christmas ornaments and lights. So, pine trees were the only trees that would work for us even though it was quite a hike to go find one. We had to traverse the hilly woods beyond the orchard, leap over the creek or wade through it, high-step it over a wide patch of blackberry briars, and then walk the old meadow filled with beggar lice seeds and cockleburs that stuck to our clothes. Just at the far edge of the meadow pine trees had just begun to populate the area and, from there, in the older part of the meadow is where the pine trees had taken off and flourished virtually undisturbed for years until the McNeals arrived.

Finally, we had reached the old pine forest and all we had to do then was choose “The One”—that perfect tree that had managed to grow symmetrical branches without any bare places and that wasn’t too short or too tall, but about 6-8 feet to fit perfectly in the living room. The tree had to be full and sturdy with a pine scent that whispered, “It’s Christmas.”

My Sister, Mary, Mom, and Me (far right)

In 1963 when I was fifteen, it was bitter cold that December, but the weather wasn’t about to keep us from making that journey into the deep woods. Christmas was just around the corner and we wanted that tree. I might mention that Pop loved these long walks. He was raised in a small town in Pennsylvania surrounded by mountains and spent most of his early life with no horse or car…just feet to get him where he wanted to go. He loved roaming through valley and dale on his nature hikes.  Mary and I, on the other hand, grew up in the city. This particular adventure into nature was close to our endurance limit, but we weren’t about to pass up a hike with Pop or a Christmas tree. No sir, we could endure. We were tough.

Or so we thought…

By the time we crossed the creek, Mary and I had red noses and our hands ached from the cold. In order to avoid being snagged by those blackberry briars, we had to step high with every step using the large muscles in our thighs to do it. It was easy at first, but the briar patch had grown stretching out much further than the previous year. By the time we made it to the other side of the meadow, my legs burned, my jeans were full of beggar lice and cockleburs and all I could think was that we had the same long trip all the way back home. Just call me a big woosie girl, but I was done. My sister didn’t look much better. Her hands had grown red, her eyes looked like they might roll back in her head any moment and the expression of determination and stubbornness told me she would get this done even if we had to bury her along the way.

Of course, Pop was marching right along in front of us leading the way into the pines. When he turned to see if we were keeping up, I saw the tired lines on his face, the slop of his shoulders, and the slowing pace of his gait. It took me by surprise to realize Pop was getting older and this long trek was taking a toll on him as well as Mary and me. Pop loved Mom and he would do anything to make her happy. Mom loved Christmas and this tree would make her happy. We weren’t giving up.

Now I’ll be the first one to admit, we might be going home with a tree even if we had to crawl through that miserable briar patch, but that didn’t mean we had to spend another hour searching for the Perfect Tree. So, when Pop pointed to the first tall tree he saw and said, “How about this one?” relief surged through me and, apparently Mary as well as we readily agreed. Pop chopped down that tree probably with the last ounce of strength he possessed and Mary and I dragged that tree back through the “Hell Hike” to the backyard.

I’d love to say that somehow Christmas magic just happened to make that tree the fully limbed, fluffy beauty we always wanted, but the light of day showed us very clearly, especially after we had rested and reignited our brain power, that our Christmas tree lacked luster. Mom never said a single critical word about that tree. She smiled and told us to bring it on in and get started decorating it. Thanks, Mom, for always being such a good sport.

Once we got it in the house, turned it several times to hide the bare spots as best we could, decorated it with our well used and loved Christmas ornaments and lights, we were satisfied.

My Sister and Me (with my new guitar) and The Tragic Tree

Even though it was the worst tree we ever had, that Christmas it actually snowed just like in the movies except it melted the very next day. It was also a great Christmas for me. Mom and Pop gave me the guitar I had always wanted. Until then I had played an old cast-off guitar that would not stay tuned. I actually cried when I opened it. Pop took a picture of me doing my ugly cry thing as I opened it, but I am not about to post that mess. But I don’t have any problem posting a picture on my sister and me sitting in a chair in front of the worst Christmas tree and the best Christmas ever. 

The Whole Family With The Worst Tree

In the spirit of the season I am giving away a digital copy (Kindle) of my recent release, HOME FOR THE HEART from the Wilding series, to someone who comments.

HOME FOR THE HEART (Western Romance with a touch of Lakota Mysticism)

Love doesn’t come easy…for some, it may never come at all.

Blurb:

Lucille Thoroughgood is a social worker for orphan children. She is known to the town’s folk as dependable, logical, determined, and…well…stubborn. But Lucille has a secret affection for the determined bachelor, Hank Wilding.

Hank Wilding loved hard and lost. He has sworn to never marry. After Lucille makes a bargain with him, he agrees to allow troubled and physically challenged children from the orphanage to ride his horses as equine therapy. One of the orphans is a half Lakota boy, Chayton, who reminds Hank of his own father’s painful childhood. 

But a Lakota prophesy holds a shadow over the rejected, embittered teenager, threatens the happiness of the inhabitants of Hazard, Wyoming, and may end in tragedy for Lucy.

Excerpt: (the bargain)

In the quiet of the barn filled with the smell of fresh hay, horse manure, and leather tack, Hank sensed rather than heard someone enter the building. Ah, the smell of sunshine and roses. Must be Lucille Thoroughgood. Without turning to look at her, he set the pitchfork against the wall of Lonesome’s stall. “What do you want, Lucy?” he grumbled as a greeting.

“Mr. Wilding, I have something I’d like to propose to you.” Her voice sounded tense. When he turned to face her, he saw those blue eyes dart away from his to peer at the straw on the floor. She promptly straightened her spine and must have forced herself to look him straight in the eye. Her starched manner made him want to mess with her.

“A proposal?” He moved closer to her…maybe too close. He felt something shift in his chest like a warning bell. “Well now, I haven’t ever had a lady propose to me before.” He joked, badly, just to get her goat. Generally, women were not to be trusted. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. But Lucy was his old friend since grade school. Even though she must have been born straight-laced and proper, she spoke her truth, plain and simple. Beneath that barbed wire exterior beat a heart of gold. 

Lucy propped her fists on her hips and he thought she looked like a charming sugar bowl all ruffed up in her pink flowered dress and her sweet, straw hat that sat askew on her gleaming brown hair. She knitted those brows together and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not proposing marriage to you, Mr. Wilding. I’m proposing a business deal…sort of.”

Excerpt:  (the Lakota Prophesy)

Kyle brought the truck to a stop as close to the front door as the driveway allowed, but before Lucy could open the door, Kyle clasped her arm. She turned to face him and noticed a faraway look in his dark eyes. “What is it, Kyle? Is something wrong?”

His face took on a grim expression when he spoke. “All I know is something dark is coming. Be careful, Lucy.”

Something in her chest clutched. Kyle had a special gift and his words were not to be ignored. “Is something bad going to happen?”

“I’m afraid so. I wish I knew what it was, but I don’t. I only know it’s evil.”

“You’re scaring me, Kyle.”

“I don’t mean to. Hank and I will keep an eye out. Tell your dad what I said.”

Excerpt: (the prophecy comes to pass)

Love Me Tender played on the radio and reminded Hank of Lucy dancing with him to the song. The light, fragrance of roses filled his senses. Lucy’s perfume.

Reality settled back into Hank’s consciousness as they entered the emergency room.

Buy Links:

Amazon:  Kindle     Paperback

Available on Kindle Unlimited

I wish for all of you a happy, safe, and memorable holiday season. 

Sarah J. McNeal is a multi-published author of several genres including time travel, paranormal, western and historical fiction. She is a retired ER and Critical Care nurse who lives in North Carolina with her four-legged children, Lily, the Golden Retriever and Liberty, the cat. Besides her devotion to writing, she also has a great love of music and plays several instruments including violin, bagpipes, guitar and harmonica. Her books and short stories may be found at Prairie Rose Publications and its imprints Painted Pony Books, and Fire Star Press. Some of her fantasy and paranormal books may also be found at Publishing by Rebecca Vickery and Victory Tales Press. She welcomes you to her website and social media:

Website 

My Amazon Author’s Page

Facebook

Twitter

The Wildings

Fantasy and Dreams Blog

Sweethearts of the West

Prairie Rose Publications Blog

My Pinterest Boards

Come Visit The Old Faithful Inn, If You Dare by Sarah J. McNeal

Oh yeah, it looks like a lovely old inn located in the Yellowstone National Park with a grand view of Old Faithful, the famous geyser located in the lower Geyser Basin just off Highway 20, but beware—it’s haunted.

Before I tell you about how the old inn is haunted, allow me to tell you a bit about the inn. The inn is built from materials found in the local natural resources of lodge pole pine and rhyolite stone. With its dramatic touches of metalwork, it is not only beautiful, but the largest of its kind in the world. It is actually two hotels. The original lodge is known as “the old house”. The Old Faithful Inn was constructed from the winter of 1903 to 1904. Architect Robert Reamer designed the inn in a grand rustic style.  When the Old Faithful Inn with its original 120 rooms opened in 1904, it had both electric lights and steamed heat! Over the years the inn has undergone improvements and renovations to keep it up to date with current codes and to make it even more beautiful.

Several American Presidents have visited or stayed at The Old Faithful Inn: Theodore Roosevelt;(1903), Warren Harding;(1923), Calvin Coolidge;(1927) and Franklin D. Roosevelt;(fall of 1937).

Upon entering the 85 foot lobby with its massive stone fireplace, a person can also view two more open floors above the common area. There are staircases that go all the way up to the place called the Crow’s Nest which is situated above the floors where musicians often play for the guests. The stairs continue up to the roof where there is a platform from which the inn’s guests and tourists are able to view Old Faithful.

Old Faithful can be seen from the front porch and from the huge, third floor porch, but the best place to view Old Faithful is from the second floor porch.

A wing of guest rooms may be found off the common areas of each floor. The third floor is the quietest. The bathrooms on the first floor are available to guests and tourists alike. With both guests and tourists enjoying the inn, who would guess there were others who also enjoyed the inn.

The spirit people.

Perhaps you have seen the movie “Poltergeist” in which a housing development was built on top of a grave site. Well, you know then the kind of chaos and dangers that can ensue such a sacrilege.  The West Wing of the Old Faithful Inn was unintentionally built over some unmarked graves. Uh-oh, here comes trouble.

We know now that children and adults who die from accidents or illness like to hang out in places they knew and where they felt comfortable while they were alive. Well, it just so happens quite a few people drowned while boating and swimming in accidents in Yellowstone Lake.

If spirits bond with the land itself, they often decide to stay in any new buildings that are built on their land.

Women who have been murdered by someone they thought loved them, often can't get over this betrayal and remain restless in this world.

People who have died because of beheading, and are buried without their heads, sometimes are restless because of this, either still looking for their head, or carry it around with them.

Here are a couple “accidents” that have occurred around The Old Faithful Inn:

In 1927 a park ranger named Charles Phillips accidently ate poisonous hemlock believing it to be wild parsnip and died. You would think a park ranger would know the dang difference.

Another story tells the tale of the newly weds enjoying the sights of Yellowstone Park, and the Old Faithful Inn. When cleaning the room for the next guest, they found the bride's headless body on the bed. The head was found later in the crow's nest. The husband did flee, suggesting that he killed her.

Old newspaper records verify it is true that there was a murder, and the housekeeping staff did indeed find the headless body of the bride, and eventually her head was found up in the crow's nest as well. The husband did kill his new bride for ulterior motives, and he disappeared; never paying for his crime. Now we all know, if a person does something this awful, they WILL pay, one way or another.

Here are some of the ghostly sightings:

A male entity dressed as a Frontiersman. He may be one of the people whose unmarked grave was one that the West Wing was built upon. His presence is probably seen in the West Wing hallways and rooms, and perhaps the main lodge. A detailed description of this spirit means that guests and staff have seen him enjoying the lodge.


One of the unseen presence enjoys playing pranks by picking up and turning the fire extinguisher around in a 90 degree circle before putting it back in the holder. This particular incident happened right in front of an official inspector. Also, doors open and close by themselves as well on the West Wing.

A male entity, perhaps the spirit of L.R. Piper, was seen by a child, trying to climb out of a steam hole. His ghostly hand and arm was trying to pull the rest of the body up. He might have actually come all the way out, but the child ran away before he could do so.

A female entity in Room 2 appears in an 1890s' outfit, and seems to enjoy floating at the end of the bed, watching people sleep until startled guests wake up to see her.

Sadly, there is a little entity of an unhappy boy. He appears as a solid person, runs up to guests and staff in tears, and asks where his parents are before he disappears.

The spirit of the headless bride wears a white, frilly wedding dress. She has been seen coming down the widow's walk staircase, carrying her head, looking very forlorn. Perhaps she is still waiting and hoping that her husband will come back and be the person she thought he was. Maybe she even blames herself for arguing with him. She is probably full of regret, for not listening to her father's advice, and very sad that her family forgot about her. She also makes her presence felt in her old honeymoon room.

An older man dressed in a merchant marine uniform is thought to be the bride's killer husband. He is seen looking into windows, into rooms, trying to find his bride. He too visits the old honeymoon room, the crow's nest perhaps trying to find the woman that he so cruelly murdered.

There is a recent eye-witness account by a staff member who saw the bride dressed in a white, flowing bridal gown, coming down the stairway from the catwalk, with her head under her arm. She made her way down the hallway to her room in the early hours of the morning, most likely not wanting to disturb the other guests. She has also been spotted, looking down from the second floor common area over the railing to see the grand old lobby.

The National Paranormal Society lists the Old Faithful Inn as a haunted location, but hasn't made any public display of any of their findings as an investigation group, or linked any other hard evidence gathered by other groups. This is probably because the people who run this wonderful inn don't want to attract ghost hunters, and want their guests, both alive and in spirit form to not be scared or bothered.

The Old Faithful Inn is most likely haunted even though, despite the claims of some inn personnel that the Old Faithful Inn is not haunted, many guests and staff members have experienced sightings and other paranormal activity.

SOURCES INCLUDE:

Yellowstone Ghost Stories: Spooky tales from the world's first national park
by Shellie Larios
Riverbend Publishing
2006

The Ghost Hunter's Field Guide
by Rich Newman
Llewellyn Publications
2011

"The Ghosts Of Yellowstone National Park," by Kurt Repanshek, for National Parks Traveler.

Old Faithful Inn page on Wikipedia

Old Faithful Inn page on Ghost In My Suitcase

Ghost Stories Give the Old Faithful Inn a Haunted Reputation, Deseret News, Published: Thursday, July 4 1991.

"Yellowstone Ghost Stories" on American Folklore web site

"Ghosts of Yellowstone" at yellowstonepark.com

In my time travel western, HARMONICA JOE’S RELUCTANT BRIDE, I did include a ghost who plays a pivotal role in the story.

Harmonica Joe’s Reluctant Bride

Blurb:

A haunted plantation…A mysterious trunk…And a date with destiny

When Lola Barton inherits a rundown plantation, she believes her life has finally taken a positive turn. But, when she finds a mysterious trunk in the attic, it takes her into the past and to a man with dark secrets—and she’s married to him. What comes next only time can tell.

Excerpt:

Harmonica music floated down from the attic—the last place in this tumble down wreck of a house Lola Barton wanted to go.  Had someone or something taken up residence there?  Lola made her way up the darkened attic stairs measuring each step as the ancient boards creaked in protest under her feet.  Her flashlight beamed a narrow circle of light illuminating the cobweb-covered door at the top of the landing.  Her heart raced and pulsed in her ears.  Hands trembled with the surge of adrenaline as she pressed forward.  She ignored her inner voice that warned, “Don’t go!”

Her cynical mind told her the rumors that Misty Oaks Plantation had ghosts weren’t true.  The tales of murder and betrayal had to be the overactive imagination of the local townspeople.  A homeless vagrant had to be the most logical explanation for the disturbance. 

Once she gained the landing, she blew the cobwebs from the door and leaned her ear against it to listen for any movement on the other side.  Wisps of harmonica music lifted in the air.  Perhaps someone left a harmonica lying around and the wind blew hard enough through the cracks in the walls to make it sound as though someone played the instrument.  Just the wind.  No ghost.

With her courage bolstered by her logical conclusion, she grabbed the doorknob and turned it. 

Available as Kindle Unlimited 

AMAZON

Also included in a western collection of 5 novels by 5 western writers titled A COWBOY’S BRAND

A Cowboy’s Brand

Sarah J. McNeal is a multi-published author of several genres including time travel, paranormal, western and historical fiction. She is a retired ER and Critical Care nurse who lives in North Carolina with her four-legged children, Lily, the Golden Retriever and Liberty, the cat. Besides her devotion to writing, she also has a great love of music and plays several instruments including violin, bagpipes, guitar and harmonica. Her books and short stories may be found at Prairie Rose Publications and its imprints Painted Pony Books, and Fire Star Press. Some of her fantasy and paranormal books may also be found at Publishing by Rebecca Vickery and Victory Tales Press. She welcomes you to her website and social media:

Website 

My Amazon Author’s Page

Facebook

Twitter

The Wildings

Fantasy and Dreams Blog

Sweethearts of the West

Prairie Rose Publications Blog

My Pinterest Boards

An Old West Serial Killer by Sarah J. McNeal

H.H. HOLMES

Nothing scares me more than a serial killer. I don’t mean a gunfighter who kills a lot of people; I mean the kind of killer who stalks people like prey, even children, and finds ways to torture them, or rape them before they finally kill them. Some serial killers even do horrible things to their victims after death. These are sick people with deeply disturbing psychological defects. They’re the kind of killer even the psychopaths would fear.

In my naive thinking, I believed this kind of killer existed only in modern times. What was I thinking? You would think I didn’t get the memos about Jack the Ripper or Mad Vlad the Impaler. When we think of the old west, we know there were plenty of gunfighters, bank robbers and that criminal sort, but what about those opportunistic killers who lurk in the shadows and prey on their victims for some sort of sadistic pleasure? I get chills just thinking about it. 

Herman W. Mudgett, aka H.H. Holmes, was just that sort of devious, evil killer. He started out his career as a scammer for insurance until he moved to Chicago, Illinois in 1893 just before the World’s Fair opened there. Like any wicked spider, he built his “castle”, a three story inn, in which he secretly added a gruesome torture chamber. He constructed some of the rooms with hidden peepholes, trap doors, special gas lines, and padding to soundproof them. Other rooms had secret passages, ladders, and hallways that led to dead ends. Holmes created a greased chute that led to the basement where he installed a surgical table, a convenient furnace, and even a medieval rack just for fun.

Holmes "Castle"

How clever to have an inn where ladies might spend the night believing they are perfectly safe while they make their plans to visit the World’s Fair. Even before the World’s Fair opened, Holmes was already leading his victims to his lovely “castle” where he asphyxiated them with poisoned gas before he took them to his basement for his gruesome experiments. Some bodies went straight to the furnace. Those that didn’t go to the furnace were skinned and their skeletons sold to medical schools. Holmes was eventually convicted of the murders of four people, but he confessed to at least 27 more killings before they hanged him in 1896. “Holmes’ Horror Castle” was later turned into a grotesque museum, but the building burned down before it could be opened. I can only believe there was Devine justice at work with that fire.

After recent news in my area near Charlotte, North Carolina of a couple, a registered nurse with whom I used to work, and, of all things, a supervisor for social services in Monroe, N.C., who fostered young children and who tortured the children in their care shook me to my core. That I could know someone so well who could do such a thing haunted me so much it led me to write
Unexpected Blessings in the anthology, Lassoing A Cowboy.

A broken dream…a cancelled wedding…and an unexpected blessing 

When Juliet Wilding’s dreams are crushed, she cancels her wedding plans to Harry O’Connor. But Harry is not about to give up on the only woman he has ever loved.  What neither of them expects is the event that will forever change both their lives.

Lassoing A Bride, from Prairie Rose Publications. Unexpected Blessings will be released as a single and so will my story, When Love Comes Knocking from the 2014 Christmas anthology, A Present For A Cowboy.

A lonely widow…an indiscretion…a gift for redemption

Penelope Witherspoon was charmed into marriage by Evan Thoroughgood only to learn she loved a philanderer, who gambled away his inheritance and drank too heavily. It came as no surprise that four months after their marriage, Evan was shot dead for cheating at cards. Since his death, Penelope has come to depend on his older brother, Gil. In fact, she has come to love and respect him. No two men could be further apart in character. But, if Gil learns of her secret indiscretion, he will want nothing further to do with her. What is Penelope to do? 

I will be giving away digital copies of these two singles and print copies (in the United States) of  The Violin and Harmonica Joe's Reluctant Bride at the Prairie Rose 2 day event on Facebook coming up July 27-28. 

    Author, Sarah J. McNeal

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To find out more about my western novels about the Wilding family, click on "The Wildings" link in the above link..