I don’t believe in ghosts or monsters anymore. At least not really. Come to think of it when I was a kid I don’t think I believed either. During a sleepover when I was in 6th grade and living in Park City, UT my best friend and I ditched my house at midnight to patrol the streets. The suburbs are freaky places at night. I don’t care how safe they are. There are no parties, no people with two jobs working the late shift coming home at midnight. There aren’t even cops. The only people up at midnight are teenagers and they’re busy holed up in an upstairs room, a single light barely enough to peek out the window.
So my friend and I took this walk. We reached the 300 yard open field beside our middle school campus, which was nestled up against a big high mountain, the type that sort of pins you down. At the end of the field was the parking lot. Far across the lot we spotted a dark, hunched, sinister looking figure that had been walking the streets as well. It stopped and stared at us. I don’t know for how long. Then it bent over like it was going to run on its knuckles and broke into a sprint right at us. We turned and ran down the path as fast as we could but the figure was gaining. When we turned a corner at the end of the field we dove into a thick pile of bushes. The figure stopped at the bushes. We couldn’t see it. Could only hear its scratchy, hoarse breathing. We didn’t know what it was. We knew we weren’t supposed to be out at midnight; this figure seemed to be our punishment.
In retrospect it was probably just some jogger. I suppose that’s one thing people in the suburbs don’t mind doing at midnight. The point though was that we believed it was a monster. At ten I can’t really blame myself. But I miss that belief in the ethereal terrors of the world. I understand that there are actual terrors and concrete problems. Rock the Vote-type issues as well. But still, guys, ghosts…
This picture was taken from a small room, nestled above the store where I work. You can only reach the room through a sort of hatch, a two and a half foot square door that barely latches shut. You feel like Alice when you pop through. The lights are always off and all you see is the grid of bulbs that light up the store below. I make excuses to go up there just to give myself a little scare while I’m working. There have always been rumors of ghosts at my store. Five people have relayed their stories to me and at least two of them are pretty frightening. I don’t believe any of them…but maybe, just maybe, if there is a ghost there, this corridor is its home.