Merry meet all,
As you can see, I have picked a place for my story setting that means a great deal to me. Pleasant Bay is a rich, magickal, at times unsettling, and hauntingly beautiful place. Of course, I want to use the setting for a ghost story. I have seen whales splash in the water, the Northern Lights, watched herds of grazing moose, and spied rabbits and foxes. I braved a marshy bog, tried fishing, gone on nature trail hikes, and roasted marshmallows on a rocky beach with friends and family. I even published a letter in the Letters to Editors section of Witches & Pagans magazine about how awesome the Cape Breton Highlanders National Park is.
The picture which I took myself is the location for the story. Doesn’t the view look beautiful? I stayed in the chalet for a weekend.
Besides the fact that there are no stories written in fiction about Pleasant Bay, which would make it stand out, it does lend itself to ghost stories. In one scene in Between the Worlds, my main character walks through the very woods that I have walked through. Just going for a walk there is an experience. My sister has a cabin at the house that years ago we helped my grandfather build. The wood on the cabin steps was rotting. She stepped up on the stair case and her foot fell through the wood. She didn’t hurt herself. But depending on where you go, you can get a great jaunt through the woods.
But at the other house my sister rents out to tourists, the woods there have an eerie unsettling creepy energy. I braved a ravine there and explored the woods. The old Indian Trail is inhabited by birds- and fairies. They visited me. The woods are older than time. It would be like walking through the Mirkwood of Lord of the Rings. The place seems haunted and old. The energy sends chills on my limbs and makes the hairs on my neck stand up. Here is a picture: can you spot the orb?
The scent of the older than time spruce trees fills your nostrils. Pinecones and twigs crack underfoot. The ocean roars in the distance. Squirrels screech and break the silence. Eagles soar over the ocean surface, searching for mackerel. Ahead the perilous cliff warns you to stay away. The trees are thick and sharp. Moose scat covers spots of earth on the forest floor. A sense of peace fills you. The wild brush is so thick you don’t know if you are ten or twelve feet from a moose.
Pleasant Bay has no gas station, only seasonal restaurants, no hospital. If you need anything, it is a forty-five minute drive to Cheticamp. That is in the summer. In the winter, it is highly doubtful you can get any gas for your car at all, or even see a human soul. I am talking, total isolation.
My main character, Rosemary Bell, who grieves the passing of her beloved husband, moves to Pleasant Bay, in the dead of winter. It is October and nearing Samhain. Her grief and wish to be alone drives her to move to the isolated coastal town. She is unaware that the home is haunted by a vengeance craving lonely misunderstood ghost. The scent of seaweed trails in the air. Seaweed mysteriously appears in the basement. And what is the ghost guarding so vehemently? Why don’t the other townspeople talk about the Eldritch Ghost? What really happened on that fateful night in August 1947? Rosemary explores these questions and more and gets more than she bargained for when she moves into her home.
So it proves that you can write about any place, if you have explored it and learned its history. I have been visiting my grandparents since I was twelve. My grandfather was born there in October 1919. The land is being kept in the family. I look forward to my next visit and to have more to post about here. Soon I will record some of my grandparents’s stories when they were younger.
Blessings, Lady Spiderwitch