Sybil Bruncheon’s 31 Days of Halloween... “a fixer upper”…

… ah, yes... the famous Hexter home in Perrysburg, Ohio... it started out as a sweet little three bedroom, two and a half bath in suburbia, and was transformed generation to generation with one addition after another into an odd pseudo-French chateau... with a thirteen car garage... and seven disgruntled and pretentious ghosts!

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From Sybil Bruncheon's "Hysterical Histories...The Doomed Celeste"...

Halloween Haunted Celeste Contortionist Collage (704F).jpg

One of many owners who owned and now haunt this unfortunate little celeste (often mistaken for a piano!): Born Placenta O'Grady she later took on the stage name of LICKETY-SPLITZ as a drag-performer/contortionist. She could play Mozart forwards and backwards… with her feet! BEHIND HER EARS! She performed mostly in mining towns along the West Virginia/Pennsylvania border with a very friendly rhesus monkey which accompanied her on the ukulele. On various occasions the monkey (named Mr. Wonky) would be dressed as Joan of Arc, Florence Nightingale, or Eleanor Roosevelt, depending on political proclivities of the local audiences. Simultaneously, O’Grady could juggle various oblong vegetables shaped like foreign countries...or Presidents of the United States. Coincidentally, she had fairly lovely skin. She lost her life when a jealous lover folded her into a three penny envelope and mailed her to Niagara Falls. Her restless ghost insists on playing the Queen of the Night's aria from THE MAGIC FLUTE.. "Der Hölle Rache!!!!!"...

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SYBIL'S CINEMA!....The "WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?" series... A CHRISTMAS CAROL...

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... I've proposed some epilogues to Hollywood to be shown after the credits roll on some well-loved films. Perfect for those stories and characters you just want to go on and on and on… A CHRISTMAS CAROL (any version you like!)…

After the final credits with Ebenezer Scrooge completely reformed and won over to a life of love and generosity, he lives a long glowing life of joy, robust health, and extraordinary prosperity. Interestingly, the other characters in the story have surprisingly different adventures and journeys.

Jacob Marley, his long-dead former partner, condemned to purgatory and chained to his misdeeds, serves out a long sentence of penance and is freed to pursue a new destiny. In 1971, fully a hundred and thirty years after first scaring the wits out of Scrooge on Christmas eve, Marley applies for a job in the Haunted Mansion at the newly opened Disney World in Orlando, Florida. After only a few months of furniture dragging, bad-face making in mirrors, and coloratura-groaning and yowling, he is promoted to “head-ghost” and put in charge of cotton-candy soiling and bottom-pinching. The charming and oh-so-patient Ghost of Christmas Past joins him at the resort later but is judged as too pleasant-natured to scare guests, so she’s given a popcorn stand to service near the Dumbo the Elephant kiddie-ride.

On a completely different note, the frighteningly jolly Ghost of Christmas Present is discovered to be pushing drugs, possibly cocaine and hallucinogens at the parties he crashes. It certainly explains the delirious reactions he gets from complete strangers when he waves his so-called “magic horn” over them! Always showing off his extravagance and luxurious lifestyle, he single-handedly oversees the boom-and-bust profligacy of the Gilded Age, the Roaring 20s, various Ponzi and real estate scams, and most of the activities of Wall Street. He is especially fond of caviar, rare Napoleon brandies, hand-shake buzzers, and whoopee-cushions.

As for the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, he’s mistaken for a pile of extremely dirty bed-linens from a disreputable motel and is washed in scalding water and Oxi-Clean. After an hour in the dryer, he emerges much brighter and softer but his paltry thread-count dooms him to being donated to a Housing Works in lower Manhattan.

What can we tell you of the other characters in the story? The two businessmen who asked Scrooge for donations to orphanages are later arrested for questionable child-photography. They specialized in hand-tinted daguerreotypes of young persons dressed as naked fairies in a garden… or oblong vegetables. The old crones and their impoverished thug-pals who gathered at Scrooge’s house to scavenge his draperies and valuables did indeed find a winning lottery ticket in a broken drawer of moth-eaten socks, but it had expired, and they only end up with lice. Scrooge’s nephew Fred and his young bride prosper mightily under their Uncle’s generosity, but at a Christmas banquet in 1884, someone accidentally kicks over a candelabra during a particularly raucous gavotte. Their great house burns to the ground driving poor Fred to distraction. He is never quite the same again, and is later considered a possibility for Jack the Ripper by Scotland Yard… it is never proved.

Finally, the Cratchits; Bob did indeed get his job back, is promoted slowly but surely through the years although no one knows at that time what “dyslexic” or “attention deficit disorder” mean. Bob and his wife never actually do learn the names of all those children milling about and screeching (but then neither did Dickens himself.) The youngest, Tim, eventually turns out to be perfectly healthy, but later exhibits all sorts of psychosomatic symptoms as a cry for attention in such a large and frenetic family.

However, being so sweet-natured and handsome, is it any surprise he turns out to be gay? He becomes friends with Henry Fenster, the “intelligent boy, the remarkable boy” who ran to the butcher’s shop to get the “prize turkey” for Scrooge on Christmas morning. They become more than friends later, build a home together, inheriting Scrooge’s business eventually, and turn it into a highly successful import company of Asian silks for ladies’ underwear. Cratchit & Fenster Fine Lingerie ‘n’ Dainties is still featured prominently at both Harrod’s and Bergdorf Goodman.

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Sybil Bruncheon’s “Strange Tales of Strange Places: Bellegrave Castle”…

Bellegrave Castle in the remote part of the forest had been a strange and, for most people, a forbidding place, full of rumors of old misfortunes and even violence. Oddly, the people who had fallen victim to its mysteries were loners, rarely related to any family members or wide circles of friends who would follow up on disappearances…. or foul play…almost as if the castle actually knew who to pick and choose for its murderous mischiefs. 

Imagine! A place that actually was capable of conscious thought…and willful malevolence. Skeptics who stumbled on tales of the place would apply their 20th century sensibilities and learning and deny that anything like that could happen, in the “real world”. Of course, there have been other tales of places infected with a methodical evil. But perhaps nothing quite like this. 

You see, the castle had been built by reputedly loving and much loved people; a royal family known for wisdom, justice, and generous displays to their subjects and vassals. The lords of Bellegrave also had been the extremely lucky residents of peaceful times, free of the constant wars and conspiracies that plagued the centuries in which they lived and the neighboring countries that seethed and burned so nearby.

The great good fortune that shone on this beautiful place seemed indeed heaven-sent, and the sobriquets of “The Good”, “The Fair”, ‘The Kind Hearted”, and “The Blessed” often were added to the rulers’ names as they were crowned and followed one by one in direct succession, father to son, and even to daughter, in the case of Princesses who also could ascend the throne with no complications of the restrictive male primogeniture where only sons could rule. Each generation was blessed with happy, healthy children, again unlike the other royal houses of Europe where infant mortality and the demise of dynasties could result in secret crimes concealed behind palace walls, or civil wars played out in open countrysides. 

So how, how after the centuries of royalty and chivalry flowed by, and the modern age of reason and modernism had dawned did Bellegrave Castle lose its lustre? Its radiance? …and its sanity? As royal titles faded, duchies and principalities merged, and families gave up putting Roman numerals behind their noble names… Bellegrave Castle drifted from a golden haze into a grey and forlorn miasma… sad at first, and then slowly rotting from somewhere inside… inside its walls, and its soul…

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Sybil Bruncheon's Tales of Christmases Past.... The Fitzwillys....

...and then, much to their horror, Reginald and Hiram Fitzwilly were confronted by the Ghost of Whimsical Extravagances Past, who, after mumbling names of cheap colognes, and bumping into the china cabinet, proceeded to make bad faces at the brothers and showed them its "private" areas while humming the Village People's "Y.M.C.A.”…

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