Most of the stories this time of year have something to do with Santa Claus or dysfunctional families finding the Christmas spirit despite their many mishaps, et cetera. Yet there is another kind of spirit that used to haunt the fireside this time of year—the more sepulchral sort that nowadays we more commonly associate with Halloween. But in the 19th century, ghost stories were a staple of Christmas Eve gatherings. Little wonder then, that Charles Dickens made a tradition of writing short stories with ghostly themes around the 25th of December.
Perhaps this was merely the consequence of gathering family and friends together on a cold and long winter’s night—what better way to pass the time? People told stories a lot more in those days, rather than letting the television do it for them. Furthermore, Victorians had an appetite for ghost stories, which littered all sorts of publications from magazines to monographs, and no doubt the shelves filled with annual collections when the end of the year rolled around. Moreover, telling scary stories around a fire fit well with other activities and games of the season that likewise have nothing in particular to do with Christmas—charades, cards, and blind man’s bluff—which are simply party entertainments. One version of the ghost story game followed the rule that a new bundle of sticks would be thrown on the fire at the beginning of each person’s story and the tale had to last as long as it took the sticks to burn.
The popularity of Christmas Eve ghost stories is well documented, with Dickens’ stories standing out as the most well-known. Jerome K. Jerome once wrote, “whenever five or six English-speaking people meet around a fire on Christmas Eve, they start telling each other ghost stories.” Also, Henry James’ unnerving ghost story, The Turn of the Screw begins with a frame where friends are trading spooky stories around a fireplace on Christmas Eve. Echoes of this quirky tradition can still be seen today, such as in Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas, or as referenced in the lyrics from the 1963 Andy Williams song, It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year: “There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting and caroling out in the snow. There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago.”
It would be a shame to let the tradition vanish. We don’t tell stories nearly often enough as it is. Next time you are at a party on a long dark night, frost encrusting the window panes, saturated with fatty foods and punch, gather round in a circle and give it a shot. You might just be able to conjure the spirit of storytelling back to life.
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