My sister once lived in a house with a ghost. If something went missing or an unexpected noise occurred, she waved it off and blamed it on the little old lady who lived in the foyer. Now I don’t know if it was a ghost or my sister’s absentmindedness that contributed to things going missing around her house, but that’s what she claimed.
I don’t have a ghost living at my house. I’m okay with that. I don’t think there’s enough room for me and a ghost in my home. My imagination wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Let me explain…Google “black cloaked figure in North Carolina.” This actually happened a few months ago at an apartment complex I lived at about five years ago. I would’ve freaked the freak out if I had looked out my apartment window and saw that image. Ya’ll have no idea how far my mind would’ve went with that. It turned out it was a college student who was doing a school project. THAT explanation never crossed my mind. Now satanic rituals…yep, thought it. (In my defense, I wasn’t the only one. This freaked out A LOT of people).
I have a crazy imagination. I’m the one that blurts out the insane outcome to some mundane situation and then gets the “WTF” stares from my family and friends. I have heard, “That’ll never happen, Abby,” more times than I can count. Maybe so, but my imagination is a lot more fun than yours.
This is why I love writing paranormal. All those insane, quirky ideas I have, I can make reality in my fiction. There’s no boundaries, and I love every second of it.
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