The Ghosts of Spiritwood

By Martine Noël-Maw

The first English edition of the popular young adult novel Les fantômes de Spiritwood, originally published in French by Éditions de la nouvelle plume, translated by the author

One summer night, Ethan and four friends are heading north of Spiritwood, Saskatchewan, for a weekend of camping to watch the northern lights, but their car swerves off the road and ends up in the ditch. The teenagers head back to Spiritwood on foot, but a severe thunderstorm strikes before they reach the town, forcing them to break into an abandoned country school to take shelter. After exchanging scary stories for a while, they fall asleep. When they wake a few hours later, the storm is over and the sky is filled with bright-coloured northern lights.

Ethan recounts the legend of the northern lights. "Those lights are produced by the spirits of the departed. It's a sign that they want to communicate with the living. To establish contact, we just have to whistle at them." Then, Ethan produces a spirit whistle that he had bought at Wanuskewin, and he starts to whistle at the sky.

Moments later, weird things begin to happen...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reprise
• Release date: Mar 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781989398630

Martine Noël-Maw

Born and raised in Québec, Martine Noël-Maw has called Saskatchewan home since 1993. A French literature graduate from the Université de Montréal, she has authored sixteen books and a number of plays for both adults and youth. Her work has earned her many honours, including two Saskatchewan Book Awards and a SATAward. She was longlisted for the Prix de la nouvelle Radio-Canada (French CBC Short Story Prize) and shortlisted for the Prix du récit Radio-Canada (French CBC Nonfiction Prize). Martine is also an editor, publisher, and translator. Find her online at martinenoelmaw.wordpress.com.

Book preview

The Ghosts of Spiritwood

THE GHOSTS OF SPIRITWOOD

By Martine Noël-Maw

Originally published 2010 in French as

Les fantômes de Spiritwood

by Éditions de la nouvelle plume

Translated by the author

First English Edition

Published 2023 by Shadowpaw Press Reprise

Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada

www.shadowpawpress.com

Copyright © 2023 by Martine Noël-Maw

All rights reserved

All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions of this book, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted material.

Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-989398-62-3

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-989398-63-0

Cover and interior design by Edward Willett

English translation revised by Ingrid Alesich

English edition edited by Edward Willett

CONTENTS

My Story

Friday

During the Night

Saturday Morning

Saturday Evening

Saturday Night

Headlines

Final Words

The inspiration

About the Author

Also by Martine Noël-Maw

Also from Shadowpaw Press

In memory of my father, Marcel Noël,

my grandfather, Camil Lapointe,

Emma Larivière, and Ghislaine Giroux.

So many departed; so many sources of inspiration.

MY STORY

Istill have nightmares about the events that took place in that abandoned country school near Spiritwood. I’d seen disembodied spirits before but never like those.

My name is Ethan, and I’m seventeen years old. I’ve decided to write about what I went through earlier this year because, according to my mom, who’s a psychologist, it should do me good.

We’ll see.

It all started on a Friday. I was supposed to go camping with my class up near Spiritwood, in northern Saskatchewan, to watch the northern lights. It was Mario’s idea. Mario’s our teacher. I was about the only one in the group who’d seen northern lights before, during a fishing trip with my dad—the only trip we had ever made together.

Five of us didn’t take the bus with the rest of the class because we had things to do in town. There was me, John and Reggie (the rival twin brothers), Britney, and Alex. (Alex’s real name is Alexandra, but she hates it, so watch out if you call her that.) I’m good friends with Alex and John, but I couldn’t care less about Reggie and Britney. Let’s say we don’t have too much in common. The only reason they were with us was I didn’t have the guts to say no when they asked for a ride.

We left town late in the afternoon in my new car. I mean new as in recently inherited, not as in brand-new. It was my mom’s old car, a twelve-year-old four-door Corolla. A clunker, but it was better than being without wheels, like now.

We should have reached the campsite around eleven that night, but we never made it. So here’s the detailed account of what happened to us near Spiritwood last June.

FRIDAY

We left Regina shortly after five. It was nice and hot, but the mood in the car wasn’t good. I’d split the twins, seating John in the front and Reggie in the back, but it didn’t stop Reggie from bugging his brother.

What else was new? Reg always finds a reason to hassle John. That time, it was about the soccer game he’d played the night before. One of the players from John’s team had scored a goal in his own net. John’s the goalie. And they lost 1-0 . . . it sucks, but you have to get over it.

Britney and Alex, two girls that have absolutely nothing in common, were in the back seat with Reggie.

It was around 10 p.m. when we drove through Spiritwood, a town of about a thousand people. A big sign on the edge of town announces, Welcome to Spiritwood, Spirit of the North. North it is; they’re right about that. The sun had set, but the sky was twilit.

A few kilometres past the town, a deer appeared right in front of us in the middle of the deserted road. I yanked the steering wheel to avoid hitting it and lost control. The car rolled over and ended up in the field. Thankfully, everyone was buckled up, and no one got hurt.

What are you doing? Reggie yelled as we hung there upside down. You trying to kill us?

I didn’t want to hit the deer!

What deer? I didn’t see anything.

John, did you see it? I asked.

No, I was sleeping. What a way to get woken up . . .

I saw it, Alex said. It jumped right in front of the car.

I unbuckled, lowered myself to the ceiling, and got out of the car to check if I’d hit the deer. Once I got on the road, I looked around and saw no trace of it.

That’s when I realized that my vision was blurred in my right eye. I’d lost a contact lens. It must have been somewhere in the car. Might as well look for a flea on a football field, I thought.

I returned to the car. The others were also out of the vehicle by then. Four of us—Britney preferred to watch—tried to put it back on its wheels, but we weren’t able to. We needed a tow truck, but how can you get one north of the Spirit of the North, where