Phantoms of Folklore

The Christmas Spirit

When Christmas comes, the living rejoice and make a merry feast

But the restless dead want to live again and are not joyful in the least

The Christmas Spirit by Joanna Jadoo - Part 1 - With a Grain of Salt

It was early November. Tantee Marie sat in the gallery of her quaint little home. It was a one-storey brick house painted cerulean with white shutters. In Tantee Marie's eyes, the white shutters fixed into the blue walls resembled the clouds that hung in the sky. Thus, she often told her great-niece Laura-lye that the house was a piece of the sky that had fallen to earth. 

Tantee Marie got off her chair slowly. She carefully made her way down the four steps that led to the brick garden path. She held her crooked wooden cane in one hand and a bag of salt in the other. She glanced up at the sky. It was almost dusk. The sun had begun to make its way down the sky towards the horizon. In the last few rays of light, she scattered salt grains all around the front yard. She proceeded to circle the house, making an oval of salt around her oblong abode.

As Tantee Marie headed inside, the sun had all but disappeared from view. It was dark now. The street lamps turned on. The cemetery that lay at the dead-end of Tantee Marie's street loomed in the distance. As long as that salt was on the ground, Tantee Marie was not worried about the specters she believed lurked beyond the grave yard walls.

"Did you spread the salt around the house?" 

A high-pitched voice greeted her with this question as she walked through the front door. It was Laura-lye, already dressed in her night-gown. Her tiny frame was dwarfed by the cozy rocking chair she sat on. Her bunny-slippered feet dangled over the edge of the chair. She gave Marie a conspiratorial grin.

"Yes, Miss Laura-lye, I did," said Marie.

"Good," chimed Laura-lye, nodding encouragingly.

Marie chuckled. She was not quite sure if her little great-niece knew why she trailed a line of salt all around the house. Marie grew up in a different time: one where there was no separation between folklore and daily chores. The salt was to keep away those "duppies" as her mother would have called them. Marie was not the only one. All the inhabitants of Wary-eye Lane would make a circle of salt around their houses before dusk. It was said that if a wandering spirit came upon your house in the night and met a yard sprinkled with salt, the spirit would have to pick up every grain of salt one by one before it entered. By the time the spirit had finished picking up the grains of salt, the sun would be coming up and the angry spirit would have to return to its resting place before daybreak.

"Time for bed, little one," cooed Marie, scooping Laura-lye out of the chair and placing her on her feet. She ushered Laura-lye to her room. 

As Marie turned on Laura-lye's nightlight and turned of the bedroom light, Laura-lye pretended to go right to sleep under her mound of blankets. She even slowed her breathing for dramatic effect until Marie had left the room. 

Moments later, Laure-lye sprung out of bed. It was time to  spy on "the visitor" that came to their house every night. The halo of light emitted by the nightlight allowed Laura-lye to see fairly well in the dark. She went to her window to keep on the lookout for the little girl. She peeped through her curtains. The street lamps outside cast their yellow rays of light far and wide, illuminating the yard. The white grains of salt gleamed in the yellow light. The girl would come soon. The night's sky was very dark now. It was a starless night. There was no moon. It was colder these nights. A cold front was upon them. It did not snow in the tropics but Christmastime still brought colder weather than they were used to. Laura-lye could feel the Christmas Spirit in the air. All the surrounding houses were being groomed for the season with new paint-jobs and immaculately manicured gardens.