CHS’s Christmas
Ghost Walk in Proctorsville had to be cancelled due to the resurgence of
Covid-19. In its place we offer a special Cavendish Christmas Eve Ghost Story.
Following the
story is information about Cavendish haunts as well as the tradition of
Christmas Eve ghost tales
On Christmas
Eve many years ago, the town of Cavendish ghosts were planning their annual
Christmas Eve gala and once again decided to congregate at what today is called
the Golden Stage Inn. The spirits referred to it by many different names-Jack’s
place or Jenny’s parlor-reflecting who they were on good terms with that was
currently haunting the place. Others just called it “the Stage,” since it was
the scene of so many “try outs” of new ways to scare the living.
It was to be a “locals
only” event, but rumors had it that some “haints,” restless spirits from the
south, had recently been seen floating about. Ghosts, like humans, find there
is “no place like home” for the holidays, so it was a bit odd to see these
spirits so far afield. However, as is in life, there are just those who like to
mix it up and do things differently.
Cavendish has a
number of children spirits, who, despite our thinking they might be lonely, are
far from it. They are actually very happy, particularly on Christmas Eve
because it means the living children will be receiving presents, and if there
is one thing ghost children like its new toys.
Toys have
evolved considerably over the decades, to say nothing of the centuries, but a
child’s
imagination, be it human or spirit, continues to be dazzled by things
that buzz, hum, whir, are brightly colored and do magical things. There is one
18
th century boy, Tom, who is obsessed with anything that is
electronic and he’s caused no end of mayhem trying to figure out how things
work. You don’t want him anywhere near your computer as it will take hours and
hours to repair after he’s been poking around. [Note: As I was writing this
section, my computer suddenly went wonky. Hmmmm….]
If you find
yourself blaming your child for a toy broken after one use, don’t be too harsh,
particularly if little Janey blames her playmate, who only she can see.
A young spirit,
Lily, was organizing the children for the evening frolic. Gathered at the Opera
House on Depot St., one of their favorite haunts, they were trying to figure
out what could they do to scare the
adult ghosts.
“I’ve been
practicing my groans,” said Tom.
“How
electrifying! Like that’s going to scare a ghost the likes of Jonathan
Wheelock,” said Emily.
Isaac contorted
his ashen face and cackled.
Right,” said
Tom, as he produced one of his better moans and groans, much to the delight of
the youngest ghosts.
All the old
standbys were discussed and each one was rejected as not being scary enough, or
“we’ve done that one too many times.”
They were
mulling things over when one of the youngest spirits pipped up. Sarah had
recently visited a friend of a friend’s relative who was at The Stage the
previous week and had overheard the owners discussing some changes they wanted
to make for Christmas. Seems they were in the process of painting, re
decorating and in general, making preparations for a major Christmas Eve party.
Well that
information threw a new light on the situation and they immediately began shouting out ideas. There was such a
kerfuffle that any hope of constructing a cohesive plan quickly evaporated into
thin area.
By now darkness
had settled on the town, with Proctorsville village looking particularly dark.
The wind had picked up and snow was swirling around the porch of The Stage.
As the humans
were being greeted at the front door, one noted how odd the snow and wind
seemed to be acting. Little did they realize it was the spirits swishing by, entering
through doors, windows and several of the kids slid down the chimney.
While the
owners of the Inn greeted friends and families with words of good cheer, and
circulating hot mulled cider, hot toddies, eggnog and other drinks of the
season, the spirits were welcomed by “The Traveler.”
A very handsome
man, wearing a long leather coat and boots, he was happily inviting the spirits
to join in the fun and merriment of the season. Some sat on chairs, while
others preferred to float about on the ceiling.
Each wore at
least one item of apparel that gave a clue from when they were living beings. This
was an important item for one of the night’s favorite games “3 Guesses- When
and How I died.”
Ghosts love
games, and the night ahead had plenty of them in store, but this one was a tad
tricky as many ghosts had been around for eons. While some had moved on to
other haunts, others stuck around just to see how things were working out. A
bit of morbid curiosity you might say.
The Abenaki
ghosts were very good at this game, particularly Screech Owl Woman, after all
they’d been here for 11,000 years or so. To level the playing field, the rules
were revised so you could assume other personalities. Sometimes they drew lots
to help them with a different persona.
Not all the
specter were good at this, particularly those that had drowned, were hung or
had come to some unsavory end. It was just too easy to tell how they died, so
instead they were in charge of organizing the game and keeping an eye on the
children who could be so easily bored and create all sorts of mischief.
Another
favorite game was “Whose Next,” where they placed bets on who among the living
in town would be among them the following Christmas Eve. In fact that was
always the first order of business, determining who’d won the previous year’s
contest.
It wasn’t
enough to say who you thought would die, you also had to give an approximate
date as well as cause. For the new spirits, this was often the first
introduction to many of their new “neighbors” and a bit odd knowing their
demise was part of a contest.
However, they’d
quickly get into the swing of things and, more often than not, they’d be the
winners of the following year’s contest, since they knew who was in a sickly
way before their own departure.
As the fire
roared and the humans gathered closer, the spirits would drift in to see if any
of them would figure in the ghosts stories being told. If one of them was
mentioned by name, it was up to that ghost to do something to the humans to
make their presence known. This could be anything, from rubbing up against them
to making a loud noise, causing the fire to flicker in very eerie ways, douse
the lights, spill a drink and so on. It was the highlight of the evening
watching the humans squeal scream and even one child admitted to having peed
themselves, “just a little,” they were so frightened. Oh, that was a hallmark
Christmas Eve and from then on there would be shouts of “let’s see how many we
can get to wet themselves this year.”
This particular
Christmas Eve things were out of sorts. The merriment was a bit off. There was something odd. Yes, the place looked
different with new paint and furnishings. That must be it, but wait…the divan
started floating in the air and bumping into the spirits hanging out on the
ceiling. “Whose doing that?” shouted one of the older ghosts. A chorus of “not
me” was cut short by the new painting suddenly coming to life.
The ghosts were
feeling a bit uneasy. After all, they were use to being the haunters but were
not so fond of being at the other end of the tricks. Who was doing this?
Books were
starting to fly around the room and seem to be chasing all the women. It was
utter chaos, with the ghosts no longer keeping to themselves but now were flitting
all over the house.
Even the humans
knew something was amiss.
This wasn’t one
person complaining of a chill, rather it felt like a gale force wind had just swept
threw upending tables and making those closest to the fire feel as if they were
being tickled by icicles. Very quickly, the humans made their departure, with
the owners completely perplexed by their dissolving Christmas festivities.
Just as when
they arrived, the guests were met with swirling and whirling snow as the
spirits themselves couldn’t wait to get out of there.
No sooner had
both humans and spirits departed but out from the divan sprang Tom, who was
followed shortly thereafter by a number of the other children. They just
laughed and laughed and laughed.
They were
quickly joined by an adult ghost named Mr. John. He had come to the Golden
Stage when it was part of an
abolitionist movement that helped former slaves go to Canada or find work in
Vermont, where slavery was illegal. Though Mr. John hadn’t died in Cavendish,
he had loved the time he spent at the Golden Stage and so liked to return for
the annual Christmas Eve ghost fete.
Coming from the
south, he knew that the “haints” had some pretty devilish tricks up their
shrouds. Overhearing Sarah talking about the renovations at The Stage gave him
the idea of “haunted furniture.” One of the haints traveling about was only too
happy to assist him and the children. Who doesn’t like to give a good scare,
particularly if it includes some of those pompous Cavendish ghosts? This was to
be a “haunt” that would be talked about for centuries to come.
While the
children and Mr. John had such fun playing with the toys of the children who
lived at The Stage, it wasn’t long before they heard the cock’s crow and knew
it was time for them to be on their way. Even though they were sad to end such
a lovely evening, they were also excited to see what new treasures would be revealed
in just a few short hours from underneath the Christmas trees.
Ghosts of
Cavendish: Over the
years, CHS has learned of many different ghosts, haunted houses and all things
that go bump in the night. Some places, like the Golden Stage Inn and the
Wheelock House in Cavendish, are legendary
as being haunted. The Dutton House was believed by locals to be haunted long
before it was moved to Shelburne Museum, where the ghosts seemed to continue to tease the museum, staff and visitors alike.
Lena, one of
our lady ghosts, is actually written into the deed of the house where she has
“rights” to the front parlor and bedroom.
Interestingly,
CHS receives inquiries from people regarding who or what is haunting their place.
While we can provide the history of many places, we are far from experts about the
specters that hang about.
The Golden Stage,
one of the stops on the annual Ghost Walk for the 5th graders, has a
collection of stories which are added to year after year. There is a ‘traveling
man” that has been seen by two owners of the Inn. He looks like Robert Redford,
so not so hard to encounter. There is even a ghost cat and just very odd goings
on that seem to occur year round. It’s one of our favorite stops as the list of
stories continues to grow.
The Inn was at
one time owned by the Skinner family that were heavily involved in the abolitionist
movement and provided sanctuary to former slaves.
Crows Bakery and Opera House Café is a favorite of children spirits, who have been known to
run around the place. During this year’s ghost walk, we had several students,
one of whom had lived in the building, relate stories about their encounters
with the children Emily, Lily and Tom. The girl ghosts liked Playdough and one
of them enjoyed playing Barbie dolls.
Origins of
Ghost Stories on Christmas Eve:
Ghost stories were an integral part of Victorian England-hence Charles Dickens’
“A Christmas Carol.” However, the ghost and spirits walking the earth at this
time of year was crucial to the Yuletide-winter solstice traditions that have
been practiced for centuries in northern Europe. The long nights, cold and
often nasty weather, made ghost telling the perfect antidote for late December.
According to
Jerome K. Jerome, the humorist who wrote “Told After Supper”
in 1891, Christmas Eve is the ghosts' great gala night. On Christmas Eve
they hold their annual fete. On Christmas Eve everybody in Ghostland who IS
anybody…comes out to show himself or herself, to see and to be seen, to
promenade about and display their winding-sheets and grave-clothes to each
other, to criticise one another's style, and sneer at one another's complexion…..
not only do the ghosts themselves always walk on Christmas Eve, but live people
always sit and talk about them on Christmas Eve. Whenever five or six
English-speaking people meet round a fire on Christmas Eve, they start telling
each other ghost stories. Nothing satisfies us on Christmas Eve but to hear
each other tell authentic anecdotes about spectres. It is a genial, festive
season, and we love to muse upon graves, and dead bodies, and murders, and
blood.
There is a good deal of
similarity about our ghostly experiences; but this of course is not our fault
but the fault of ghosts, who never will try any new performances, but always
will keep steadily to old, safe business. The consequence is that, when you
have been at one Christmas Eve party, and heard six people relate their
adventures with spirits, you do not require to hear any more ghost stories. To
listen to any further ghost stories after that would be like sitting out two
farcical comedies, or taking in two comic journals; the repetition would become
wearisome.
Haints: Part of the Gullah-Geechee culture,
“haints” are restless ghosts who can be malicious. One
of the unique things about haints and spirits in Gullah lore is that they can
be stopped by the color blue. Ever notice how some of the old Vermont Houses
porch ceilings are painted blue?
The Gullah/Geechee Nation exist from Jacksonville, NC to
Jacksonville, FL. It encompasses all of the Sea Islands and thirty to
thirty-five miles inland to the St. John’s River. On these islands,
people from numerous African ethnic groups linked with indigenous Americans and
created the unique Gullah language and traditions from which later came
“Geechee.”
More Holiday Ghost Stores
• 10 Spooky Ghost Stories for Christmastime
• Ghost Stories for Christmas: A chilling Victorian tradition
• A Plea to Resurrect the Christmas Tradition of Telling Ghost Stories
