That's the Spirit!

It’s the holiday season. A time when we gather with friends and family for winter celebrations, food, and spirits—both liquid and ethereal.After December, the season of warm tidings will come to an abrupt end. The spindly fingers of winter will claw at our cheeks as the frigid days dwindle to darkness. Without the sun to illuminate those extra hours, we will look for ways to brighten our spirits. Many of us will take comfort in sharing stories—ghost stories.

Believe it or not, ghosts are my least favorite topic within the ecosphere of the weird. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy a good ghostly tale—I do—but tales of cryptids, UFOs and aliens, time slips, and the occult are higher on my creeps list.Budgets may be tight but I still want to offer you a gift this holiday season. While this gift won’t require unwrapping, I can’t guarantee that it won’t cause your mind to unravel during those dreadful hours between evening and morn.Grab your coffee. You’ll need it to keep your hands warm and steady.

Jump scares are my family’s love language. When I was a kid, we spent an inordinate amount of time trying to scare each other. Nothing too serious. You would round a corner and BOO!—a sibling would jump out at you. I’m one of four children, and my dad is the youngest of eleven children, and whenever my whole big family got together, there was often talk of jump scares and ghosts.The conversations usually started like this:Remember that time I put on a werewolf mask and waited for you to come down to the basement?Remember when Ma used to drape her hair over her face and tell us a scary story before bed?Remember when Dad put a stocking over his face, and you were the first one to hide behind the couch?

Harmless fun, right? But without fail, the reminiscing would usually turn to pure horror.The laughter would die down. The mood would grow somber. And then someone would share an honest-to-God- ghost story—a strange and inexplicable encounter from their past. I’m not sure which of my uncles shared the following story, but I think about it often and wonder if it’s true.

This story takes place many years ago on a warm summer night in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. My uncles had just settled down to watch a TV show. Because it was a summer night, they had the front door open but the screen door remained closed. As they sat there waiting for the TV show to begin, the screen door hinges squealed. They turned to see who might be brave enough to stroll into a stranger’s home . . . but no one was there.Then, they heard the footsteps.One step after the other as someone—or something—walked from the screen door to the couch, where there was an empty seat.They watched the couch cushion slooooowly cave in…The TV show started. They didn’t know what to do, so they sat there, timid and too frightened to move.

When the TV show ended, the couch cushion swelled to its normal size. The footsteps retreated back toward the screen door, which gently opened and closed as the unseen visitor departed.

Now, of course the adult me has MANY questions about this tale. What TV show were they watching? Why didn’t they scramble and scream? (Though, I’m willing to admit that terrifying situations from my own past have taught me that I’m a freezer—not a fighter. So, I can relate to this fear response.) Still, did anyone run their hand through the seemingly empty space over the couch cushion? Did their fingers grasp cold air on that warm summer night?As an adult, I see the many flaws in this story, and it’s much easier for me to believe that one of my uncle might have borrowed this tale of fiction from a movie or TV show and used it to scare their nieces and nephews.However, as a kid, I believed every word of my uncle’s tale, and my imagination perfectly captured the setting of his terrifying ghost story. And that’s the thing about imaginations—they can run away from you. That’s almost always the case for kids who sleep with nightlights . . . and the same is true for adults who sleep with a light on. (It’s me. I’m the adult. I’m talking about myself.)

My uncle’s story could be totally false.But it could also be totally true.Remember that when you tuck yourself into bed later tonight.I shared a ghost story. You’re welcome to share one in the comments too!

Before I go, I have to give you a book update. It’s a rule or something. It’s finished. The manuscript is DONE. It’s going to copy editing as soon as I hand it over to my editor. The idea of handing it over for copy edits has left me feeling uneasy. Handing it over means that it’s one step closer to publication. It’s one step closer to being in your hands, and THAT is actually scary.

Enjoy a cozy winter solstice and happy haunting, friends.