Spooky Memories

183. To a certain point, I loved being scared. Every single time there is a horror room I never fail to prod you to come with me. I like hearing ghost stories and it amuses me that although they make the hairs on the back of my neck to prickle and cause increased heart rates, it causes the skeptic in me to shut down and the imaginative side of me to come out and play. I find horror to be mostly psychological. And that is what makes it thrilling. I remember one time, at our annual school fair, the grand entrance of the horror room where a bloody, ghostly bride walked with two zombie flower girls around the school. It was splendid. I remember when we watched a horror flick at a friend's house during our free time. He was essentially a scaredy-cat even with such things so we even had to tie him up to keep him from fleeing the room as we watched the Ring. When we watched movies at the mall, we would hold each other close and tremble together in the dark together. You were just as scared as I was. The most terrifying event for you would probably be when you saw ghosts at our university and at my  house. But if you would ask me, there is wisdom in the saying that the living should be more feared than the dead. After all, given enough faith and positivity, ghosts cannot harm us. Facing a flesh and blood murderer, robber or rapist is a much more horrifying thing. It scares me to be in the shoes of families of victims who've died so brutally. It scares me to imagine myself or loved ones hurt in any kind of way. It scares me to death to imagine you taken from me because of a number of things like accidents or you leaving me for another woman. Nothing is more spookier than being in the dark. Alone. Cold. Hungry. As I imagine so many people are in the world. These are worse things than dying. It's the loss of dignity. It's so awful that many people go to war for it which only compounds the problem. Ghosts probably all watch these with dismay that they cannot do anything corporeal to avenge their own deaths and preserve the lives of others. So they remain as lost souls in my opinion. And every November 1 and 2, people visit their graves, some with a festive air, some with heavy hearts, to pray. And ghosts probably are thankful for that event that remembers them once a year- the event wherein the veil between the living and the dead are at its thinnest.