A pale silhouetted form hangs in the corner of my room, she is giving me chills, this woman, she stares impassively to the wall, long dress, long hair. I close my eyes and open them again, and she hangs there still, I approach but the cold is too much, I retreat to my chair and sit. How long has she been here, how long is she staying?


Driving in an old car, I expected some rattles and bangs, the odd gearbox whine or squeak. But what I didn’t expect was ghostly back seat driving, criticism of my driving from the beyond. “Your going the wrong way” he says, “We should have turned left back there at the arcade”. How does he think he knows where I’m going anyway? and he didn’t even die in this car he’s haunting, he’s wearing a noose, he was hung from a tree. He just got some weird attachment to this car, as I did, obviously, otherwise why would I put up with this every journey? “Have you checked the tyre pressures? the ride feels funny, slow down you’ll wear the bushings”. Sometimes I think to sell, but who else would take him for drives?


Sometimes it takes very little to cajole our own fear to rise up our spine and prickle the back of our neck. The dark is pretty fearsome when our mind has been subjected to some crazy imagery, we switch the TV off and for many moments the lines of reality blur, the stairs creak too loudly and the shadows dance in unusual ways. Silence is suddenly an enemy waiting to leap, and the chill flick all our arm hairs up to attention, was it always so cold in the corner of this room? you get yourself in such a mess you don’t want to reach your hand out all alone into the darkness to search for the light switch on the wall, for it will surely be grabbed by unknown menace waiting for such foolishness, with some bravery, you slide your hand along the wall and nearly scare yourself to death when you touch the switch you were searching for, brace yourself to turn on the lights, then click.


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