Wishing everyone a happy and productive 2014!!
I've got several projects on tap for this new year that I hope to share with everyone. I would also like to remind and encourage everyone to try their hand at the Write In The Dead Of Winter short fiction contest (see the page tab below the banner) as well as share your thoughts on what you thought were the best moments in the paranormal, horror, sci-fi, etc. for our Best of 2013 vote.
Have fun, be safe, and enjoy the NEW YEAR!
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Saturday, December 28, 2013
The Grey Man of Ben Macdhui
A Brocken Spectre Caught on Camera in Poland |
One of the earliest sightings of the Grey Man may have been by one Professor Norman Collie who related his encounter to members of the Cairngorm Club in 1925. Collie recounted how in 1891, as he descended the peak of Ben Macdhui, he heard footfalls shadowing his own, but the spacing was such that Collie imagined the invisible companion's stride to be 3 or 4 times that of his own. He attempted to dismiss the sound as some peculiar distortion of his own footsteps but they appeared to be getting closer. In a panic, he raced precariously amid the boulders for 4 or 5 miles to the safety of the Rothiemurchus Forest. Collie would state thereafter that he no longer ascended the mountain alone.
Around the turn of the 20th Century, a man named Henry Kellas was rumored to have seen a giant form on Ben Macdhui, but his story could not be confirmed. He died climbing Everest in 1921.
Avid climber and hunter Alexander Tewnion was surmounting Ben Macdhui in 1943 when he became caught up in a storm. He couldn't help but think of the legend of the Fear Liath Mhor as the mists swelled around him and a strange shape manifested itself therein. Tewnion grabbed his rifle and fired three times as the entity lunged toward him. Clearly bullets had no effect and so Tewnion turned and ran.
In 1945, Peter Densham heard the same peculiar footsteps that so frightened Collie. He, too, fled the mountain in fear, which seemed odd to many given Densham's stalwart nature: he ran air rescue missions in the Cairngorns throughout the war.
It should be noted that many of these encounters have occurred along the Coire Etchachan, a valley off Ben Macdhui's eastern slope.
Some believe the legend is based in an atmospheric phenomenon known as a Brocken Spectre. This is when the sun casts shadows of hikers on nearby mists, making it look like a shadowy giant is lurking in the fog nearby. As for the footsteps, some attribute the sound to cryoseismic activity on the oft-frigid mountaintop. Additionally, the panic felt by these witnesses isn't new. "Climber's panic" often manifests itself as paranoia and can effect even seasoned mountaineers, becoming frightened, paranoid, and disoriented. However, this usually occurs on summits much higher than Ben Macdhui and is thought to be caused by a lack of oxygen.
So, is the Grey Man legend all a mountaineer's tall tale spun to entertain his club or is there something lurking in the mists of Ben Macdhui?
You're reading The Grey Man of Ben Macdhui by Cullan Hudson, originally posted on strangestate.blogspot.com If you enjoyed this post, be sure to check out the blog.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
The Darkest Night Of The Year
Although this is from December of 2010, I think it is still a great jumping off point. Come on! If THIS doesn't get your creative story writing juices flowing, I don't know what will..."
"Thanks to a lunar eclipse on the longest night of the year, tonight we'll be experiencing the longest, darkest night in a very long time. It's been nearly 500 years since the last solstice lunar eclipse." [source]
So get inspired as to who might emerge or what might transpire during this rare event Write In The Dead Of Winter
Or anything else strange, dark, mysterious, horrific, otherworldly, paranormal and plain weird one might find in the dead of winter.
As an appropriately titled example, check out this cool story from Lovecraft E-Zine...
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
The Snowman
The first submission to the WRITE IN THE DEAD OF WINTER short fiction contest....
Daniel ignored the sharp bite as the cold sunk deeper into his bones. The last of the pale light faded ghostlike beneath the thickening mass of snow laden clouds that triggered the street lights along his quiet street. He scraped a mitten-covered hand across his red and dripping nose. Just a little more, he thought as he patted the rotund snow man in his front yard. He used the nut shells to fashion a wide grinning smile and added his sister’s red checked hat to the head. There, he thought. He looks good! Daniel stepped back, half turning, to see if his sister had a good sight of the round fellow. She waved from her chair by the window. Her leg in a heavy cast, there would be no snow ball fighting for her.
Daniel ignored the sharp bite as the cold sunk deeper into his bones. The last of the pale light faded ghostlike beneath the thickening mass of snow laden clouds that triggered the street lights along his quiet street. He scraped a mitten-covered hand across his red and dripping nose. Just a little more, he thought as he patted the rotund snow man in his front yard. He used the nut shells to fashion a wide grinning smile and added his sister’s red checked hat to the head. There, he thought. He looks good! Daniel stepped back, half turning, to see if his sister had a good sight of the round fellow. She waved from her chair by the window. Her leg in a heavy cast, there would be no snow ball fighting for her.
Fists on his hips, he surveyed his
creation and nodded. He bent to pick up the carrot and add the final touch to
his snowman when he saw the neighbor’s yard next door. The house was dark as always. They never
decorated for any holiday, but at Christmas it seemed they turned off even more
lights. Now, in the front yard there was
a figure shaped from the fresh snow. In Daniel’s
yard, the bright white snow was fluffy and soft and could easily be rolled into
giant balls for his snowman. Next door,
however, the snow appeared darker, silvery.
The neighbor’s snowman wore a black hat slanted down over its icy face
and a satin scarf hung down the front. Its two arms were formed by the gnarled
black branches of a dead tree.
Daniel forced himself to look away;
there was something disturbingly compelling about the figure. He felt so terribly cold, wanting nothing
more than to go inside to warm up. But it was weird how he kept finding himself
transfixed by the snowman. He twisted around in the snow and stomped up to the
front door, willing himself to not look back as he rushed into the warmth and
light of his home.
At bedtime, the wind wailed as
freezing rain peppered the darkness outside his bedroom window. Throwing back his covers, Daniel crept softly
to the window and peered into the dark at his fat, jolly snowman. His sister had
loved it and spent most of the night staring at it from the window near the
fire.
Something pulled his eyes and
thoughts like a dark magnet toward the neighbor’s yard. Daniel jumped and fell
back into the room.
Heart pounding, he looked out the
window again to confirm his initial impression. It was closer. The dark, icy
column with its twisted arms, slanting black hat, and sinuous black scarf that
whipped like a serpent in the freezing wind was no longer in the yard next
door. It was a foot inside his own. It no longer stared blankly out to the
street, but now its frigid face was facing Daniel’s own creation.
The wind moaned and roared around
the window like the cries of arctic beasts. Outside, ice-laden branches were
the cracking bones of their prey. Chilled despite the warmth of the room,
Daniel turned away, afraid of this icy intruder. It couldn’t be, he thought. I
must have thought it was deeper into the neighbor’s yard that it actually was.
Daniel mustered the courage to peek
again into the frigid night.
It was closer.
Each time Daniel looked away in
chilled fear, he would turn back to find the snowman closer, its twisting arms
reaching out.
Suddenly, the bright red hat lifted
off the head of Daniel’s snowman and fluttered about like a moth in the amber
glow of the street lamp. Inches as a time, the dark, silvery column of ice
moved closer. The red hat spun on the
breeze and drew up above the black hat of the encroaching figure. It spun and twisted in the swirling wind
until it was a ruddy blur. A black branch shot out from the neighbor’s snowman
toward Daniel’s. A sudden icy rattle knocked at the window and the street light
went out.
Stillness came with the dark.
Daniel found the sudden, searching quiet more unsettling than the roaring wind.
He felt his heart pound as dared not breath. Daniel stood there in front of the
window with the certainty that something crucial was happening outside in that
cold, frozen night. He felt it
breathing, he sensed it searching, and he knew it was waiting.
Daniel couldn’t say how long he had
stood there waiting, but his feet had grown cold. Still, he watched the black
outside, searching with horrible anticipation for some sign of what was
happening.
He waited. He watched.
In the pale silver light of dawn, details
became manifest. An icy sheen covered every tiny branch and icicles hung like
brittle fingers from gutters and roof and phone lines. A buttery sun fought to
crawl through the crystalline clouds. He
sought out the alien snowman, but could see no trace of it anywhere.
“Danny!!! Oh, thank you Danny!” his
sister was yelling from downstairs. She is
going to wake Mom and Dad, he thought as he dashed out the room and down
the stairs.
“Cut it out, will you? You’re gonna
get us in trouble.” He said as he came to where her makeshift bed had been made
near the window.
“Thank you, Danny! How did you do
it? Did you go back outside after we went to sleep? Like Santa Claus?” She was
pointing and smiling. He turned to look out the window and stumbled back a step
at what he saw. “You are the best big
brother in the world!”
He walked to the window and pulled
the curtains apart to reveal the scene.
The snowman he had created in the middle of the yard now stood just
outside the window. He was turned to face toward the window but it seemed he
could also look at the yard. He seemed
taller, straighter, and different. The
bright red hat still perched on his head but across his front he held, like a
soldier might hold a weapon, a gnarled and blackened length of branch. Around one end was tied, like a trophy, a length of shiny black
satin.
Monday, December 2, 2013
VOTE NOW FOR THE BEST OF 2013
Here's your chance to vote for the best in paranormal, horror, and sci fi books, movies, television, and news over the past year. If you have a write-in, add it to the comments!
Just click the Best of 2013 tab beneath the header above to go to the interactive ballot.
The code I put in the post doesn't seem to be working right. So, until I get that fixed, feel free to post your answers in a message. I will then tally them up the old fashioned way.
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