My Christmas Wish List

Inspired By The Holidailies Prompt: That gift you always wanted (and did you get it?)

Photo A.M. Moscoso

 

The Fiji Mermaid

was just a hoax, she wasn’t real so quit asking for her

for Christmas, your birthday and for Halloween my Mom used to tell me

when those times of the year rolled around and the question of gifts was called.

 

But I wanted that little Mermaid and I was so convinced that

she was real that I had a place set aside in my room near the window  for the day  that

somebody  in my family would finally see sense and give me the Princess of The Seas

for either Christmas, my birthday or Halloween.

 

One day, tired of my foolishness,  my  Dad told me  the Fiji Mermaid was part monkey,

part fish she wasn’t real she was just a bunch of dead animal parts stitched together

she was just a prop, as a joke to take money off of gullible people like me, my Dad said with disgust.

 

But one day I read that the Circus that held a Fiji Mermaid captive

and I was convinced she was a captive

and probably did not give her the respect that a Princess of The Seas deserved

burned to the ground in 1865.

 

At the same exact time, in another part of the world

there was another Fiji Mermaid held captive under glass

near the Sea, I think it was a museum but I’m not sure.

Wouldn’t you know it? That museum burned down too.

 

After I learned the stories about the Fiji Mermaids

and how they escaped from their cages

and left a forest of flames behind them, from that point forward

I no longer asked for or wanted a Fiji Mermaid.

Since then I’ve asked for two Fiji Mermaids

 

I’ve been asking for them since I was a child

for Christmas, my birthday or Halloween

there is  a place for them near a window in my home , a place of honor

set aside specially for a Princess and a Queen who really like fire

and hate being pushed around and made a mockery of

just

like

me.

The Devil You Know

Inspired By: Ghostly Prompts For The Christmas Season

One Christmas, well it was actually on Christmas Eve, my family’s turkey dinner almost went cold because my Great Aunt ,Patience MacDowell, was late for dinner.

In the mid 1970,there were no cellphones, emails and texts did not exist and on top of it all everything shut down on Christmas Eve by late afternoon. So if you had car problems you were in trouble and if you weren’t near a phone that was attached to a wall,  there was no way for anyone to know where you were or if anything had happened to you.

That’s what happened to Aunt Patience. Her car died less then a mile away from my Aunt’s  Penny’s House and just as my Grandpa, who had somehow been elected to go out and look for Aunt Patience  because she not answering her phone-  was about to head out into the dark and snowy night when the doorbell chimed.

” Thank God. ” my Grandma tossed back the  last of her sherry. She had been sitting near the huge picture window that ran the length of the living room. You could see the Puget Sound from that window, but at this time of the year all you could see was inky blackness.

I’m pretty sure Grandma wasn’t thanking God that the person ringing the door bell was Aunt Patience and not a Policeman with ‘bad news’ and that Aunt Patience had made it through a snow storm to Aunt Penny’s house  safe and sound. There were at least two dozen of us at my Aunt’s Christmas Eve party that night and when that bell rang we treated it like a dinner bell. We enthusiastically made our way from the living room where we had been nibbling on  cookies and nuts.  We were hungry for turkey and warm food with a crunch.

Despite the fact that we were starving,  we remembered to tell Aunt Penny  how lovely the table looked as we entered her dining room and how good everything smelled before we dove into our seats.

Good manners mattered to us- most of the time.

Photographer Unknown

I took my place at the end of the table where the kids sat and Aunt Patience said to my cousin Percy as they passed by me,  ” Car trouble. I suppose you could say that. I wasn’t even a half mile away and it just died. I had to walk the rest of the way. WALK. ” she said loud enough to drown out the conversations going on around the table.

I think some of the adults told her how glad they were sure made it in time to be able to warm up with the help of a wonderful meal and Aunt Patience agreed- but I was sitting down the table from her and when she saw me looking at her I saw her fingers were crossed.

We ate our dinner and then we finished our deserts and as we made our way to the living room to snack on the remains of the cookies and nuts and drink that we had worked on as we were waiting for Aunt Patience I heard Aunt Patience say, ” It was a long cold walk did I mention that? ”

” Only about a million times. ” one of my Uncles said loud enough for everyone to hear but not quite loud enough to be considered combative.

” I think I forgot to mention I had company on my very cold and dark walk. ”

” Who? ” I asked.

Aunt Patience stopped and turned towards me.

” You mean what.

I looked into my Aunt’s face. She nodded just a little and I took a sharp little breath.

It was story time- and it wasn’t going to be one of those stories that my Aunts and Uncles made up for fun  because creeping people out who were so  stuffed with rich food that they were bound to have nightmares all night long  was their idea of fun.

This was a true story  and those stories are the best kind.

Everyone behind us heard what she said and so did everyone behind us. I pushed passed Aunt Patience to the living room. I got a seat next to the fire place and I waited for her to take her place on the couch next to the little table where the bourbon balls and wine were waiting for the adults.

Even though I hurried I was still the last person to take my seat.

By the time we were all comfortable the fire place in the living room was filled with red and orange light, the logs inside of it crackled and popped. My Uncle Lionel pulled the drapes closed to keep the cold out and my Mom turned off the bright lamps. Three of my little cousins and my brother and sister encouraged my Aunt Penny’s Saint Bernard Nicky to a place near the fire place and after he laid down they sat on the floor next to him and then they stretched out along side of him and used his giant body as a pillow.

I hated being 12 right then. I’d have given anything to have stretched out on the floor with that giant dog, but I was at this time a ‘young lady’ and young ladies in our family didn’t hang onto giant dogs when someone told a spooky story.

Aunt Patience took a little plate from the side table. She put a few candies on it and then she took her seat.

She eyeballed the room and when she saw that she had our undivided attention she began with-

“I was almost here when the snow stopped flying and wouldn’t you know it? My car shut down. It hadn’t made as much as one odd sound before it gave up the ghost.. I was gliding down the street like one of those ice skaters on those horrible glittery Christmas cards when. Poof. I just stopped right there and I guess you know where I stopped- because where else would my car stop on an unlit street piled high with snow? Where else would I end up but right in front of the Bellman’s House?”

” The Hell you say. ” my Dad said from his place on the loveseat where he was sitting with my Mom.

” I didn’t, ” Aunt Patience said ” but yes. The Hell it was.”

“Forty years ago on Christmas Eve, sometime after the Bellman’s all went to bed we all heard that they all died in their sleep. The next morning when Grandma Bellman and her sister Florence showed up to help her daughter in law Twila with the days cooking and to help keep an eye on the kids ( there were six of them, four boys and two girls ) the Bellman’s were gone.

“There  was a gas leak and they all died in there sleep with their Christmas tree all lit up and all their presents under the tree and their stockings stuffed with fruit and candy and little presents hanging from the mantlepiece. It was a sad sight unless you count- wait  Penny, your friend Francie lived next door, she saw them take the bodies out didn’t she? ”

Aunt Penny nodded. ” She had nightmares about that until the day she died. ”

Aunt Patience went on. ” But do you know what Mrs Campbell told Penny’s friend? She said she saw the dog and cat- Billy and Wiley sitting at the end of the driveway. She said that when the last of the Bellmans were removed from the house Bell and Wiley walked off in the opposite direction and nobody ever saw them again.”

” Well. ” Aunt Patience said. ” I saw them last night when I walked by the Bellman’s house. They were sitting there at the end of the driveway covered with a little snow and I was going to stop and see if I could check the dog’s collar and see if  the dog that looked exactly like  hadBilly’s name engraved on the tag and if  the cat that I thought looked like Wiley was wearing those little bells that Florence made her wear to scare away the birds when I  felt someone walk up behind me.”

I popped  the cookie I had been holding up to my mouth and I  started to chew it. Slowly.

” It was a tall man, he had a dark black beard and he was wearing one of those old fashioned top hats. There was a red ribbon tied above the brim that was holding a little bunch of Santalales studded with bone white berries just above his ear. He smiled one of those big toothy smiles that people who think a lot of their looks flash.  Now as a rule I don’t trust people who smile at you in front of a house where a bunch of people died under questionable circumstances and their pets show up forty years later looking the way any normal cat and dog would be looking.”

” So I nodded as he came up to my side and I started to walk and before I knew it he was walking right next to me. Of course I had to keep my eye on him at this point. My Mother didn’t raise a fool. He was looking straight ahead. ”

The snow, as you know was brittle- it was getting colder and colder and after a little ways he says to me, ” Was that your car back there? ”

The snow was crunching and groaning underfoot and I said, ” No. ”

” Then I slid a little, ” Aunt Patience said in wide eyed surprise.

” Like it or not you were distracted, ” Uncle Percy said. ” You’re as sure footed as a goat, we all know that. ”

Aunt Patience fluffed the row of fluffy curly bangs that hung against her forehead. ” Well. Yes. That’s true.

It was true. That’s why no one seemed to worry much about Aunt Patience struggling through the snow. We were hungry. That’s why Grandpa went to find her.

” Anyway, I dropped my scarf. The nice silk one that Lyall gave last Christmas. ”

She better have picked it up. I babysat an army of bratty kids to afford that scarf. Plus, I had even made her a very nice card to go with it. It was a cross stitch card and I had even sewn little seed pearls around the edges.

” When I turned back and looked down do you know what I saw?”

No one did.

” I saw a tracks in the snow. Little tiny footprints that stopped just behind us. They were hoof prints and they were filled with ice and just a little steam. ”

I reached for another cookie.

” Well. That’s all I really saw. Those tracks  stopped just behind us. Then heard a car and Freddie pulled up.  The man in the top hat winked at me and he walked away from us and I heard rustling in the bushes and then I heard the tinkling of little bells and figured Billy and Wiley were following him.”

My little cousins and my brother and sister started with the questions the minute Aunt Patience picked up her little glass of sherry.

” Who was he? What was he? Why were the Bellman’s pets with him? Why was he wearing mistletoe in his hat? ”

When they were done I asked her, because the question for reasons of it’s own had stuck in my head and whirled around and around like a yo-yo dancing at the end of it’s string: ” Did he really not leave any tracks in the snow? ”

Aunt Patience crossed her ankles and her tiny black hooves clicked together. ” Not a single one. ”

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Baby Amby

I want to tell you about the night my baby cousin, Amby, died.

I don’t remember the date, but it was snowing that night and the roads were slick with ice.

I remember I was in the living room watching Lawrence Welk with my Grandparents when the phone rang. My Mom was sitting on her end of the couch, my Dad was sitting on his end and I was on the floor . I rolled over so that I could see them fight over who would get the phone.

They had this thing- when they argued they never said a word.

My Dad would look at my Mom, she would take a long hard drag on her cigarette and my Dad would huff and puff. Then she would slam her hand down and throw herself up to her feet and leave the room.

Sometimes my Dad lost those fights and when he did he would huff and puff harder then usual and then he would somehow stomp his feet hard enough to shake the floor and then he would stomp off.

That night my Dad lost that fight and as he stomped off to the dining room where the phone was. she leaned back and took another hard drag on her cigarette.

That was her version of a parting shot and it must have gotten to him because he stomped his feet hard enough to make the candy dish ( which served as a back up ashtray) and the actual ash trays which were always full dance on the coffee table.

I never got tired of watching those ashtrays dance.

I heard my Dad’s voice rumbled through the walls. ” God. No. When? ”

He came back out into the living room.

He held his hand out to my Mom and sort of snapped his fingers. She leaned to the side table and took a cigarette out of the pink quilted cigarette case I had given her for Mother’s Day and she tossed him one.

He lit it with the cigarette that was dangling out of the corner of his mouth and then he stubbed it out in the candy dish/ashtray I had made in Brownies.

“Velma went in to wake up little Amby- he was gone. It got him. Crib death. ” My Dad said.

My Mom who had went in to my little sister’s room a few years ago and found her gone the same way too, winced.

” We just can’t keep them, can we? ” She asked my Dad.

He sat back down and he reached out for my Mom but she pushed his hand away.

” You kept me. ” I said. I flopped back on my belly and watched Lawrence wave his baton from side to side. He was smiling. I liked his smile. ” I’m still here. ”

” You’re different. ” My Grandmother said from the side chair in the darkest corner of the room. ” Crib death didn’t take you. A car did. ”

” It took all three of us. ” My Grandpa reminded her from the chair he haunted next to her.

Lawrence’s audience started to clap and the bubble machine behind him went off.

I rested my chin in my hands and Christmas music from the tv floated out towards us.

Smiling, just a little, I thought about babies and empty rooms and stuffed dogs and cats gathering dust in rooms nobody went into anymore.

Once Upon A Time

Photographer Unknown

I know, Halloween is over ( sad sigh ) and you would think that means that someone who writes the kinds of stories I do would be cooling their  creative jets – but I don’t cool my jets at this time of the year.

I fire them up.

My family came from opposite sides of the world- according to my DNA results 50% of my DNA originates comes from the Philippines and the remaining 50 is split between Scotland and England.

Borders and Oceans aside,  my diverse family  actually had more in common then not when it came to a lot of things, which is probably why we ‘blended’ as well as we did because when my parents were married mixed marriages were not exactly  celebrated in the 1960’s.

But here is the one tradition above a few that they shared that I found to be absolutely fascinating.

During the winter at our family gatherings, usually after dinner we would start to tell Ghost stories.

If you are from a big family you might know how hard it is to get noticed- in my family if you could tell stories, no matter how old you were the stage was all yours. So I’m sure that played a big part in me wanting to become a writer and it’s probably why when I write my stories now they lack that tight structure writers striver for and it reads more like someone just sitting next to you and talking.

Bad grammar and all.

So I worked at landing that coveted storyteller role and in the end I got tell stories along with my Grandfathers or my Uncles  or my Grandmothers. It was so awesome. I felt like SUCH a big deal. Nothing I’ve done after that compares to that feeling of accomplishment I had when I got to tell a story with the adults and everyone listened.

As a sidenote, when I started to tell my one stories or I recited a spooky poem or a ghost story I learned I had to do it all from memory. I guess I never made that leap to becoming A WRITER. I write the way I talk. Still. After all these years.

I don’t mind.

Over the years people have sent me links to articles that addressed this once ( and I guess in some cases ) and lost tradition of telling ghost stories during Christmas or the winter season.

It’s a great tradition to be part of.

My family is smaller now, but we still tell ghost stories at Christmas gatherings, or when we get together for the evening and if it’s snowing or the power goes out we are in heaven.

Vida Gabor
” His Party Piece “

Why Do People Tell Ghost Stories on Christmas?

Christmas ghost stories are a tradition going back much farther than “A Christmas Carol”

A Plea to Resurrect the Christmas Tradition of Telling Ghost Stories

Though the practice is now more associated with Halloween, spooking out your family is well within the Christmas spirit

PEOPLE USED TO TELL GHOST STORIES AT CHRISTMASTIME

HAVE YOU EVER WONDERED WHY THE POPULAR CHRISTMAS SONG “IT’S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR” HAS A LINE ABOUT TELLING “SCARY GHOST STORIES?”