Monday, October 12, 2009
The Canada Files
It's the second Monday in October, and that means it's Canadian Thanksgiving!
This holiday was
(I'm over it, though. Really.)
In honor of the day, I made Nanaimo Bars! And they taste awesome.
(I should mention that today is also Columbus Day, but I really don't know why we need a federal holiday to celebrate the capital of Ohio.)
Anyways, in honor both Canadian Thanksgiving and the approach of Halloween, I thought I'd share a creepy story from my days living north of the border.
I spent the first six months of my LDS mission in Montreal. I was transferred to a new area just three days before Christmas. And I wasn't just sent to a new area where I didn't know anyone. I was sent to Mascouche, Québec. While it is only 20-ish kilometers from Montreal, the house we lived in felt like it was hours from civilization.
It was January. If you've never been to Québec in January, let me just tell you. It's cold. And there is snow. Remember how much I love that?
One night, my mission companion, Sister Angel, and I had no appointments and just an hour or so until curfew. It was dark because, in January, Québec turns the lights out at 3pm.
This particular evening, it was sometime around 7:30, but it felt more like midnight. With no objective, we decided to go knock on doors in a little neighborhood near our house.
(For those of you that are not LDS, I should point out here that missionaries are perfectly aware that going door-to-door, which we call 'tracting', is almost completely unproductive. When those cute missionaries show up at your door, chat with them a bit. They're really just bored.)
Sister Angel picked a street from our map, the last street in this small subdivision ten minutes from town. There were no sidewalks between our house and the neighborhood, so we decided to drive, even though it was only about a half mile down the road.
I was driving, and I slowly steered the car down the chosen street, carefully avoiding the deep muddy slush that stood in the middle. Trekking through the sludge was going to be tricky, but we kept telling ourselves that we would be blessed for our efforts under such unpleasant conditions.
There were houses on both sides of the road, their porch lights glowing just enough to make up for the lack of street lamps, but not quite doing enough to illuminate the dark shadows cast by the trees and shrubbery. The street dead-ended without even having the courtesy of being a cul-de-sac. One solitary house stood on the left. To the right, a tall row of trees blocked the view of the snowmobile trails just a few hundred yards away.
When I pulled up to the edge of the trees, I noticed the only sound came from the distant whine of snowmobiles. There were no cars, no people, no dogs barking. It was nearly silent, dark and cold. We just had to do this for an hour and we could go home for the night. The plan was to start at the lonely house on the end, go down one side and back up the other. On a cold night like that, it shouldn't take long since people were always so reluctant to answer the doorbell.
I opened my car door and grumbled, not for the first time, about how irritating it was that the dome light on our Chevy Cavalier didn't turn on when the front doors opened.
Already in my heavy coat, three layers of wool socks, and sturdy shoes, I shut the door and waited for Sister Angel to retrieve her boots and mittens from the back seat. She opened the rear door, flooding the car and a few feet around it with pale light, shoved her feet into her Sorels and shut the door, walking around to join me on the other side.
She adjusted her fingers into her mittens and I watched as the dome light faded off and immediately brightened again.
I can't fully explain what happened next, but I KNEW we needed to get back into the car and leave. I ordered Sister Angel back into her seat as I threw the keys into the lock and turned. We were back inside and within seconds I had the Cavalier turned around and headed back down the road, on our way home.
I felt a pit in my stomach that really can't be explained. I knew something was very wrong and almost didn't notice the person walking down the street. I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, but I assumed it was a man. He seemed to be wearing little more than jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, definitely not dressed for temperatures like this. I couldn't help looking at him as we passed, which felt like slow motion.
The person didn't look at me, although as we passed I didn't see a face. There was just black where the hood opened and I felt like I was going to be sick. I kept driving, hitting potholes and thick puddles of icy water, paying less attention to where I was going than I had when we arrived.
As soon as we had passed the faceless stranger, I looked in my rearview mirror and he was GONE. He had disappeared and so had his footprints.
That was the last time Sister Angel and I went tracting at night.
But it was not the last time we would spend a night in a creepy situation involving footprints in the snow. I'll save that story for another day.
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Wow, what a scary, scary story!
ReplyDeleteI was watching House Hunters Inernational the other night, and they were showing a couple looking for a condo in Montreal. It is a beautiful city!
Awesome scary story!
ReplyDeletebtw, I love the Dwight quote about singing take me out to the ballgame-hahaha.
Creepy! Thanks for the fright.
ReplyDeleteFreaky!! I always wondered about Canadian Thanksgiving. LOL
ReplyDeleteVisiting from SITS roll call!
Freaky story. I love ones like that!
ReplyDeleteDid Sister Angel see the guy too? Freaky-deaky! How much sleep did you get that night?
ReplyDeleteOooh that's creepy! I'm glad you got back in the car!
ReplyDeleteSCARY!!!!
ReplyDeleteOoooh, that was totally creepy and scary!!! But I do have to say how much I enjoy reading your stories...I'm on the edge of my seat the whole time with my mouth open. You are such a talented writer...now hurry up and finish your novel, would ya?
ReplyDeleteKristina: Montreal is awesome. Mascouche is just weird.
ReplyDeleteKathie: Thanks! I love that quote too!
Susan: My pleasure!
Lisa Anne: Yup. They really practice it and they have a whole non-American story about why. And thanks for visiting!
Nikol: You're going to love the other scary Mascouche story even more!
Kris: You know, I can't actually remember if she saw him or not. I'm going to have to ask her!
Shop Girl: I honestly don't think we had any say in the matter. But I'm glad we did, too!
Kristi: Seriously!
Helene: Thank you so much! And I'm working on it. I really am!
"(I should mention that today is also Columbus Day, but I really don't know why we need a federal holiday to celebrate the capital of Ohio.)"
ReplyDeleteI seriously just laughed insanely loud when I read this LOL
:)
Found you through SITS & thought I'd say hi!
Linds
Hi from SITS :)
ReplyDeleteScary story to start my day :)
OH MY. You know I'm a sucker for a scary story and this one was great!
ReplyDeleteThose Nanaimo Bars look delicious. Very complicated to make, though! Maybe I'll make them for Christmastime and everyone will be impressed with my knowledge of Canadian cuisine!
Lindsay: Thanks! I'm glad someone caught that! :-)
ReplyDeleteJanMary: So glad you stopped by!
Stephanie: Thank you! And they are delicious. There are a lot of steps, but they're actually pretty easy!
Hey Girl,
ReplyDeleteHa Funny how somethings happen.
Stopping by from sits to say hey.
HAVE a great day
Oooh, I LOVE ghost stories. Be sure to share all your lovely stories about the 36th street house. :)
ReplyDeleteEmily, never fear! I'm saving that one for Halloween since it's pretty much my creepiest story EVER!
ReplyDeleteHope you had a nice Canadian Thanksgiving! :) I like your spooky stories for October too!
ReplyDeleteYikey. That's a ghost story you made up for Halloween, right? "RIGHT?!" she screamed in panic.
ReplyDeleteMy brother-in-law is Canadian, and I enjoy our good-natured "arguments" about U.S. holidays vs. Canadian holidays.