Who Dat Boo-Hag Is?

The lowcountry of South Carolina has no shortage of legends and ghost stories. But there is one legend that I am particularly fond of, so much so that I couldn’t resist bringing it up in my latest novel, Savannah Grace. It is the legend of the Boo-Hag.

Now if you’re squeamish, I suggest you stop reading right here. That’s because hearing about the Boo-Hag has been known to induce nightmares and cause people who are otherwise completely sane to place a jar of rice by their bedroom door. Why would they do such a thing? If you’re not squeamish, read on and I’ll fill you in.

The Gullah folks that originally inhabited the sea islands of South Carolina were the first to spread the word about the Boo Hag. They described her as being a witch-like being that could fool even the best of us. That’s because she looks completely normal, even beautiful, in the daytime. But all that changes once the sun goes down.

You see, the Boo-Hag has a little problem. She doesn’t have any skin. Yep, that’s right, she’s nothing but raw meat (maybe that’s how Lady GaGa got the idea to wear the meat outfit). As you can imagine, it’s not pleasant to be around someone who looks like a walking, talking version of a slab of prime rib. So in order to fit in with the rest of us, she has to find some skin to steal so she can disguise herself as a member of the human race.

Skin stealing, from what I understand, can be a risky occupation. Most people don’t voluntarily give theirs up. So the Boo-Hag has to be cunning and do her stealing at night, when her victim is sound asleep.

According to the Gullah folks, the Boo-Hag can make herself small enough to slide right underneath your door. Once inside your bedroom, things get downright nasty, because the Boo-Hag is now in a position to ride you.

Those of you with dirty minds should be ashamed of yourselves. Boo-Hag riding has nothing to do with …. well, you know what. Instead, it has to do with her stealing your breath. And your all-important skin.

Once she is certain that you’re fast asleep, the Boo-Hag will shed her false skin and leap on top of you so she can suck the breath from your lungs. Hopefully, you will remain unconscious through all this and wake up unharmed, although you will probably feel tired. But woe to you if you wake up while the Boo-Hag is riding you. If that happens, you will become her next skin donor and will find yourself left with a raw, flaxen body, just like hers.

But there’s good news! The Boo-Hag is a very curious creature and can be easily distracted. So all you have to do to ward the Boo-Hag off is to place a jar of rice by you bedroom door. She will feel compelled to count every grain of rice, and since the Boo-Hag is terrible at math, she will get confused once she counts above ten and have to start all over again. This can take all night, which is exactly what you want to have happen, because the Boo-Hag must return to her skin before dawn and get home before all her ‘magical’ powers evaporate. And you will wake up refreshed and ready to face the day instead of feeling tired and possibly having to explain to all your friends and family members why you no longer have any skin.

So take my advice and fill a jar with rice as soon as you can. That way, you can wear a confident smile next time someone says to you, “Don’t let the Boo-Hag ride ya!”

If you’d like to read an entertaining story about the Boo-Hag, follow this link: http://themoonlitroad.com/the-boo-hag/

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 Last week I blogged about the legend of the Grey Man, a benevolent ghost that is said to haunt the lowcountry of South Carolina and warn the inhabitants of the sea islands about approaching hurricanes. Today I want to tell you about an experience that hit much closer to home for me; an experience that still gives me goosebumps everytime I think about it.

The year was 1993 and my wife was pregnant with our third daughter. Like most expectant parents, we spent a great deal of time trying to decide on a name for or new addition to the family. After giving it much thought, we came to the conclusion that she would enter the world as Ashley Olsen.

Okay, think about it. The poor child would have gone through school with the same name as a rising celebrity twin (we knew nothing of the Olsen twins at the time). Can you imagine the teasing she would have had to endure? Not only that, but everyone said she looked just like the famous Ashley Olsen in her early childhood, which would have only caused her more grief.

Well, I guess my daughter wasn’t about to go through all that, so she decided to pay me a prenatal visit. It began when I woke from a deep slumber and saw the misty image of a little girl who appeared to be about six years old standing at the foot of the bed. I couldn’t move nor could I speak as she wagged her finger at me and let me know in no uncertain terms that her name was to be Shannon, not Ashley. 

I came out of the experience in a cold sweat, and when my wife asked me what was wrong, I told her I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but we better think seriously about naming our future child Shannon.

My wife liked the name, and when our daughter made her grand entrance into the world on July 15^th 1993, her birth certificate announced her as Shannon Elizabeth Olsen.

Here’s the real kicker: when Shannon turned six years old, she was the spitting image of the little girl I had seen at the foot of the bed (believe me, I remember every detail of that experience). 

So, did I really see my daughter before she was born or was it some sort of dream warning me not to inflict countless days of teasing on my daughter by naming her Ashley Olsen? Think what you will, but I firmly believe it was the spirit of my daughter. And that’s what influenced me to write a similar scene in my first novel, A Lone Palm Stands. For those of you who have read the book, you know what I’m referring to. For those of you who haven’t read it … well, what are you waiting for? :)

Coming in next week’s blog: “Who dat Boo-Hag is?”

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Do you believe in ghosts? Ever seen or heard one?

I can say that I have honestly heard one. It was my paternal grandmother speaking to me right after her death; before I even knew that she was dead. I suppose you could say that I have seen one as well, but that's a whole 'nother subject that I'll delve into on another post.

Anyway, those of you  that have read my novels know that ghosts play an important role in them, especially the ghost of the Grey Man that appears in A Lone Palm Stands. You may be surprised to find that the Grey Man is a very real legend around the lowcountry of South Carolina. So just who is this Grey Man? Well, most people agree that he is a benevolent ghost that warns the inhabitants of the South Carolina sea islands of approaching hurricanes. Yes, I know we have the Weather Channel and local news now a days, and it's darn near impossible not to know when a storm is threatening, but back in the days before radar and weather satellites, the Grey Man was the only early warning system around.

According to legend, the Grey Man is the spirit of Plowden Charles Jeannerette Weston (man, did they ever love long names back in the day). His family had one of those huge rice plantations in Georgetown County in the 1800's, so the guy wasn't doing bad for himself. In fact, he went to Cambridge to study whatever they studied back then ( Rice 101?) where he met a British hottie by the name of Emilie Frances Esdaile. That's when things started to go south for Plowden, both figuratively and literally.

When the couple announced their engagement, the father of the bride and the father of the groom began a battle to see who could provide the biggest, most expensive wedding present ( never had that problem before, have you?). Emilie's father started things off by saying he would give the couple a dowry of 7,000 pounds. Not sure how much that is in dollars, but I'm sure it was a lot of money, especially in the 1800's. So not to be outdone, Plowden's father agreed to match the 7,000 pounds AND give the couple not one house, but TWO houses, one in London and one in Geneva. Oh, and he decided while he was at it, he would give them their very own plantation in South Carolina, on the Waccamaw River (Jeez, this guy must have been the Donald Trump of the old South).

The plantation stretched to the shore of Pawley's Island, a tiny sea isle where Plowden decided to build yet another house. After all, the couple needed a place where they could escape the mosquitoes in the summer (I have to admit that makes a lot of sense to me--if you've ever seen a South Carolina mosquito, you understand why many consider it to be the state bird). So Plowden constructed a two-story home overlooking the sea that he affectionately named Pelican Inn, a place where the couple spent most of their time (guess they didn't care too much for the London and Geneva houses).

Plowden ended up serving in that little dispute the South had with the North, known as the Civil War, and became a company commander. Near the end of the war, he contracted tuberculosis and died. He was buried at the plantation, not far from Pelican Inn. It is claimed that he loves his island so much, even in death, that he returns to warn the residents of the impending danger of approaching hurricanes.

So is Plowden truly the Grey Man? No one knows for sure. But one thing is certain -- too many people have seen the Grey Man over the years for it to be a simple case of their imagination gone wild. And long before the National Weather Service made its debut, the Grey Man was 100% accurate in predicting hurricanes hitting the island. Interestingly, those that heeded his warning and evacuated were rewarded by returning to homes completely untouched by the damaging wind and storm surge.

I did take some literary liberty in my interpretation of the Grey Man in A Lone Palm Stands, but I hope that the Grey Man that visited Angela in the book just before Hugo struck captured the essence of this interesting legend.

So,I guess it all comes down to this -- if you're ever strolling along one of the sea islands of South Carolina and find yourself  face to face with  the strange, shadowy figure of a man dressed in grey, I have but one suggestion --- head for the mountains as fast as you can, for a storm is sure to be brewing.

If you'd like to learn more about the Grey Man (and read an alternate explanation as to who he is) please take a look at this website:  http://www.hauntedlowcountry.com/index.php?/hauntlow/south_carolina/the_gray_man/