A shiver that runs up the back of the neck, chills along the back of the upper arms (both of them at once), that gut clenching breathless moment; then there’s that prickly, “aware” sensation all over the scalp — these are just a few of the sensations we all seem to experience when faced with the “possibility” that “something ‘ghost-y’ is happening.”  I love to tap into that.  I love to cause that “ZING” in my readers.  

I don’t overtly make any “hay” that it’s real.  I only suggest that it might be.  And that’s the only thing I can do, because there’s no way to prove something to the five empirical senses of sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell that exists beyond the range of their pragmatic ability to experience.

What’s especially fun is to watch a complete skeptic turn white, eyes bulging, hair on the arms erect, lips quivering, when you take them to visit a friend’s house known to be “haunted.”

Take the time an old friend of mine dropped in for a visit right as I was about to go exploring an old run-down house.  He came along, laughing and jibing me about gooey goblins and lumps that go bump in the silence.  Walking into the old place, he only hesitated and turned to look when, upon walking through the sprung gate hanging crooked on its old hinges, the thing decided then was the perfect time to release an excruciating metal chatter, though we’d not touched it.  

Ascending the house, the steps creaked.  Out loud, my friend wondered if they were sound.  

“They’re cement,” I said.  

Disbelieving me, he knelt down and ran his hands over them.  ”They are,” he said, a frown on his brow.  ”Then what creaked?”

“I don’t know.”

He gave me an odd look.

We went on to explore the old place, me taking pictures and notes.  Unlikely sounds and equally unlikely movements from various quarters made him absolutely jumpy, quelling any more scoffing and teasing.  He was very quiet on the return trip home.

Me?  I don’t know.  I just know that my experiences when I visit these old places make for good story elements. 

I suppose one of these days I should write up some of these episodes as a short story or two.  Maybe, better, a novel.  But, right now, I’ve got way too much on my plate to pursue new projects.  What’s fun, though, is the possibility that ghosties are watching and nodding as skeptics turn pale.

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