That bedroom on the second floor your family only uses for storage.
Spaces like these are a horror writers’ dream. They’re often poorly lit and cobweb-filled, populated with artifacts from your family’s past, or things left behind by the house’s previous owners. The characters head down (or up) into those shadowy rooms — with their myriad spots for Something Nasty to be hiding — and we brace for the ghosts to swarm.
It’s great that we can turn off the movie or close the book and go back to our safe, ghost-free lives after the scare’s done, but… can we?
I’m good at talking myself into a scare. Our washing machine and dryer are in our cellar. The house is fifty years old, much younger than many other New England houses, but surely has enough of a history that it might contain a restless spirit. I’ve never seen or heard anything that can’t be attributed to one or more of the cats getting into something they shouldn’t, but…
When I’m down there at night stuffing wet laundry into the dryer, and the house is quiet, and the cats are nowhere to be seen, my brain betrays me. It conjures what-ifs and what’s-thats, and in the end I’m racing back up the stairs, refusing to look behind me until the door is closed. Just in case.
So, horror fans, tell us about the creepy spot in your house — the one that gives you chills for no good reason when you walk past, the room you won’t go into without all the lights blazing, the closet full of holiday decorations you don’t want to reach into for fear of something reaching out and grabbing your wrist. What scares you about it? Do you grit your teeth and go into anyway? How do you work up the courage, or tamp down the fright?