Tell me a ghost story

I had a strange experience at work yesterday. I was sitting in the box office, facing my friend and chatting, when I felt someone lay their hand on the back of my head. I could just see a shadow from the corner of my eye, so I turned around to see who was touching me ... and no one was there. I immediately broke out in cold goosebumps.

Oddly, I've never thought the museum was a creepy place, even though many other co-workers (especially folks who've had to stay in the museum at night time) swear there's something eerie about the building. Some have seen strange men who vanished on 2nd glance; others have experienced strange noises or mysterious cold spots. To me, the place is just a mid-century building with an extensive building.

Although I've had a few paranormal-y experiences that I still haven't properly solved, I'm the first person to look for a scientific explanation for these things. Despite my fascination (okay, obsession) with all things creepy, ghoulish and undead, I have yet to be convinced that any of it is real.

And yet, I was immediately freaked out by this phantom touch, which could easily have been the result of some kind of pressure change. Maybe someone opened a door in the building and the resultant breeze ruffled my hair in a way I've never experienced.

I'd like to say that when it comes to ghosts, I'm a tabula rasa. I don't believe in them, but if anyone could come up with a convincing explanation for them, I would probably accept them. But to be honest, ghosts are my very favorite topic. I love reading about them. And writing about them. (Living with them, however, is another story. Eek!)

But what about you guys? Any experiences that might sway me either way? Or scientific tidbits that might help clarify my thoughts?

The horror ...

Reading: Writing Horror, edited by Mort Castle
Writing: too soon to tell
Coffee units: 1 cup
Notable nibbles: none, cereal being too boring to note

[No idea why the bullets didn't work today.]

One day, after writing two novels and some shorter stuff, I realized that the best parts of everything I wrote was either gory, terrifying, eery or horrible. And I also realized that no matter what kind of project I was working on, writing those parts was best part of the writing. So since Nanowrimo wrapped up, I've been letting myself explore my horrible side.

I believe that the main reason I like horror so much is because of my childhood and where I grew up. See, I lived at the end of a very long, very windy road. Highway 38, a two- or sometimes even three-lane highway following the curves of the Umpqua River, gave way to the infinitely narrower Loon Lake Road. Our road. It hung from a cliff face, its other side mouthing a sheer ravine that at points looked bottomless. At others, particularly in winter, that side of the road went straight into the creek. After a storm, the creek would ride high, floating foam and entire bodies of trees and sometimes loose boulders. After a lot rain there were points where the water came right up to the white line. Each trip along that road scared the shit right out of me.

It was a half hour drive to the grocery store, and we usually went once a week. So imagine being a quiet, introverted, carsick child experiencing a good 52 hours of absolute terror every single year. Combine that with loneliness, no tv and a love of books?

I was doomed to become a horror writer. The great thing is that after many years' denial, I am now willing to admit that I love horror and anything scary. Thanks to my virtual godfather (after reading On Writing by Stephen King, I have adopted him as a kind of bibliographical family member. And hero. ), Stephen King, I am no longer afraid to be a speculative fiction writer. It was like he gave me permission to write what I liked after all the college years of shame. I might never be part of the canon, but what the heck. At least I'm having fun!