Author Chenise Puchailo: Evening Patrol at the Bakery

In this month’s instalment of “Author(ized) Accounts of the Paranormal and Unexplained,” Chenise Puchailo, publisher of the anthology: Debut, will tell us the story of her encounter with a mysterious haunting at a small-town bakery…

I want to preface this by saying: I am one of the biggest sceptics I know.

I grew up in rural Manitoba, ten miles North of the foot of Riding Mountain National Park. I’ve had a number of eerie experiences, and spiritual awakenings, though pretty much all of them can be explained away by wildlife antics, or the discovery of relics from another era. Who hasn’t had that appreciative and reflective moment when they discover a fossil, or a genuine arrowhead unearthed when working or clearing land?

As a child on the cusp of technology, and well outside of the convenience of city limits, much of my entertainment was self made, in wandering and exploring thickets, groves, and bush trails. I’ve had many magical moments, coming face to face with nonplussed bears, or elk, or deer. I’ve been surrounded on all sides by howling coyotes. I’ve lost myself, adrift in the mesmerising dance of an evening full of fireflies. All of these moments were powerful, and have undoubtedly stuck with me. But none of them were supernatural, per se.

I also grew up on the fringes of a small town. The countryside around us was littered with old schools and churches, and the community of Dauphin, Manitoba itself had, and still has, many historic buildings, each with their own exciting histories and tales, truth dependent.

My mother worked at a bakery. As I aged up and grew into the responsibility of independence, but lacked the luxury of a car, I would walk to the small, cosy shop and settle in to do homework in the hour between school ending and the bakery closing so I could catch a ride home instead of taking the bus. It was an antiquated building. Flour created a dusting on every surface that was not so easy to clean. The original hardwood creaked with every shift of weight, and each step echoed hollow in the tiny building, suggesting there was a cellar or basement below. I’d seen the steps once, but never had the courage to walk down them myself. It always smelled like fresh bread, and the softest hint of cinnamon from their ever-popular cinnamon twists and raisin buns.

The break room, where I’d often set up, was hidden down a convoluted stretch of hallway. I would walk down the narrow, enclosed passage, and settle into a small room big enough for one table and a few chairs. My mother would close. She would take the bag of expired day olds out back to our truck so in order to take it home and toss it to our pigs and chickens as a treat. If anything was still good, we oftentimes would steal a few items to indulge ourselves.

It was one of those early evenings, as I sat reading a library copy of Justin Morgan Had a Horse, that I heard the resounding clatter of footsteps across the hardwood floor in the main part of the bakery. It shouldn’t have been alarming. I knew my mother was going about her cleaning routine, and as I heard each subtle creak, I’d assumed it was her.

I can’t say what it was that felt different this time. Usually, I’d sit and wait for her to come and let me know we were ready to leave. Maybe I was just bored. Whatever it was that drove me, I got up from my chair and walked through the L-shaped featureless hallway into the main bakery.

We were getting ready to leave. The skeleton set of lights were on – just enough to see a path through the main floor of the bakery. I don’t know what it was that made it feel so ominous at quarter to five in the early evening. I clutched the book a little closer and heard the telltale slam of the spring loaded door. I had expected that my mother must have been leaving the building, to load the truck with the bag of expired day olds. I had not anticipated that she would walk around the corner, having come back in to the building.

I could have sworn it was her that I heard walking around. When I told her of the experience, she was jovial. She explained that it was the ghost of the bakery. He—’cause they were sure it was a he—reportedly strolled the bakery in the early evening, or later hours. He was never seen, only heard, and if he’d made any appearances throughout the day, he was the most noticeable in the evening, when there was no one else around to explain the footsteps away. Some of the staff even spoke out loud to him, as he was believed to be kindly, though that might have been to set their own nerves at ease.

That was my only encounter with him. At least, it was the only one I was aware of. Perhaps some of the times I thought I’d heard my mother walking around, it wasn’t her at all.

Author Interview

The Night Librarian: That’s such a spooky story! It’s even more chilling to think you might have heard this spirit many times before, but never noticed. Can you tell us who was the biggest influence on your writing or your writing career?

Chenise:  Honestly, there are so many, I don’t know how I would choose just one. From the assortment of family, and childhood teachers and mentors assuring me of my prolific writing talents, to the friends who’ve been, and continue to be huge cheerleaders along the way, I’ve never been without support and encouragement.

If I were to pick, it would be a crime to choose one over the other, so I have two. My biggest cheerleader, I do not deserve. My friend, and artist Romy has been one of the most steadfast people in my creative corner. I think I could write a grocery list, and she would unquestioningly read it, and ask for more. If ever there was doubt that my writing would have an audience, she puts it at ease.

The second, would be my long-term friend, and business partner, Jenny. She’s tiger-mommed me through some pretty hard slumps, and was crazy enough to start a publishing company with me. I credit her tenacity, a lot, for how far I’ve come in any of my creative pursuits and truly mean it when I say, I could not be doing it without her.

The Night Librarian: Are you working on a new project right now?

Chenise: Though not doing as much writing as I’d like, outside of just enough practice to keep the creative juices flowing, I am starting a new project as a publisher! Come mid-October, Jenny and I will be opening submissions for our follow-up anthology to Debut.

I am thrilled to announce that we will be partnering writers and artists once again, in a five story, and ten illustration anthology. We’ll be bringing back our supervising artist Shaan Ali Khan to guide illustrations, and will continue the peer review process among writers. As much as I am a little sad to not be writing for this anthology, I’m really looking forward to taking a back seat and watching ten whole new contributors grow into the process.

The Night Librarian: How do you do research for your writing?

Chenise: I am nothing if not erratic in my research. If a topic catches my eye, no Wikipedia deep dive will suffice. It is to the library for the most relevant book I can find. I’ve even been guilty of pulling some strings to get academic textbooks to sate my hungering curiosity. There is no rhyme or reason to what I will deep dive into, whether it be a 400+ page psychology text, a novel theorising the evolution of menopause, or the secret histories of Ghengis Khan’s daughters, everything and anything is fair game.

I can’t even say I’ve ever specifically researched for any one book, story, or topic, so much as a random fact catches my attention and I must then gorge myself on every immediate shred of information. Most of the time, it has led to knowledge that benefits my writing. I can only imagine what I could accomplish in research if I applied it with a bit more intention.

Follow Chenise: Twitter | Instagram

Follow Spud Pub Inc: Website | Twitter | Instagram | Facebook