When I was in..oh I think it was about fourth grade the mobile book fair came to my school. I remember the smell of new books mixing with fumes from the bus when I stepped in. I had read a few things before that, I think perhaps a Judy Bloom novel or two. My eyes scanned the rows and I was just about to settle for a unicorn bookmark when the cover of a book caught my eyes. It was Wait Till Helen Comes by Mary Downing Hahn. I had to have it.

“It’s going to scare you,” my teacher told me.

And holy crap she was right. It scared the crap out of me and God help me, I loved it. Every second of it. Every word and flip back to the cover to study the little ghost girl’s profile, making sure I had the right images in my head because that’s where the story was playing out. The words were making a movie in my head.

That pretty much did it for me. There was no turning back. I read everything I could get my hands on and yes, I had a tendency to get my hands on the paranormal books. To this day, I can’t pass up the opportunity to be scared half to death, whether it is by a movie, or the movie in my head. If you ask me if I believe in ghosts I will say no. Do I believe in the paranormal sightings people claim to have? No. But I want to and I wish I did.

Maybe that’s why I write about these things. Because I hope that one day, it won’t be fiction I am writing. I’ll be telling a true story, that happened to me.

Some folks spend their whole lives standing still. They look at what life has dropped in their laps, say thank you very much, and hold it until their bodies shrivel with old age and they once again belong to the very earth on which they stood. I don’t know if I should feel sorry for these people or just envy the hell out of them. Honestly, I feel a little of both.

I look at people standing in their spot, happily holding their lives and think, “Run, you fool! Run before you’re stuck there so deep a MAC truck couldn’t tow your ass out!” How can they just accept what’s been given to them, what’s expected of them, what life says they ‘must’ do? Don’t they know there’s more out there, more for them to learn and know? More books to read and people to meet? I feel sorry for them and the fact that they don’t want more.

I look at people standing in their spot, happily holding their lives and think, “My God, that must feel good; to be content. That must be wonderful.” What peace they must have to know that everything they could ever want is right there in their hands. Everything they could ever need is within their reach and there’s nothing to worry about or strive for or fail at, because they’ve already found their way. They’ve already found their place. I envy them and the fact that they don’t want more.

There are two sides to every story, well, three if you’re my granny: ‘Your side, My side and The Damn Truth.’ There’s always more than one way to look at a situation and more than one choice to make. I suppose a case could be made for either way, standing still or wanting more, and at the end of the day we just have to find out what’s right for ourselves and pray like hell that we figure it out before the end of our days.

Let me know if you come up with anything because I sure as shit aint got a thing.