By: Jennifer Richardson Holt
I will give you fair warning. What you are about to read will be fraught with my own personal opinions. You may vehemently disagree with said feelings and that is perfectly alright. You are well entitled to do so. I know for a fact what I am about to express is in diametric opposition to the thoughts of some people that I know and love so I am quite certain that they will be aghast at the contents of which you are about to partake. And do you know what? That is totally fine because they are entitled to their opinions no matter how different or, to be frank, painfully wrong they may be. But… I kid. Sort of.
It is the time of year that a large portion of society focuses on all things spooky. I like to call it simply October, but others have their own terminologies. I like to think of it as a glorious time when we finally, though sometimes just barely, get to experience cooler temperatures and begin to feel the season. We get to see a bit of color on the leaves, at least it’s just a bit in my part of the country, further north there is a lot of color. These are things I love dearly about autumn that finally make their appearances in this month. But, for those who call this spooky season, well they may well have started in late September if we’re honest, every second of this month is focused on all things scary, strange, disconcerting and disturbing.
This, my dear reader, is not my cup of tea. Which, truth be told, is rather odd because I do and have always loved a good ghost story. Let me clarify that by ghost story I mean some tale of some tragic event or unfortunate occurrence that led to future generations hearing strange noises or seeing unexplained shadows. One old favorite tale from where I live comes to mind about a hole that will not stay filled. During the Civil War a soldier was apparently going home to tend to a sick wife. He had hired a substitute to fight in his stead, but he was confronted by some fellow soldiers and despite his protests was hung for desertion. He was a very tall man, and a hole had to be dug beneath him for the hanging to be effective. It is said that from that day on, no matter what manner of material is put in the hole, the next day it will be swept clean, as a lingering paranormal testament to an innocent man.
Now the details of this story are sketchy at best but quite frankly I don’t think the truth has ever really been a very staunch requirement for a good ghost story. But this is the type of tale I can get behind. I was not subjected to gore or disgust, and I was given an interesting backstory rooted in historical events. I really think that’s why I like ghost stories at all because it requires an interesting story for something to be haunted. Ghosts are always efficient like that because unfinished business that is so significant it must be addressed post one’s exit from this mortal coil tends to certainly require a reasonable amount of in-depth background.
It is the history and intrigue that draws me to a ghost story not the paranormality. I am positive of this because if ever I am presented the opportunity to engage in spooky activities whether an attempt to witness “real” ghostly activity or to visit some haunted house attraction, the answer to both of those for me would be a resounding absolutely not. I just do not care for fear even if it is the safe kind as provided by the entertainment angle of this season. I have enough anxiety issues of my own I most assuredly do not need any assistance to add to that. And really if you think about it, there are enough disturbing things in this world as it is, so I am not feeling particularly inspired to subject myself to more. And even more so, I don’t like having to be concerned that every time my daughter watches anything at all that there is the risk that she might be subjected to something that could prevent her from peaceful sleep. I am not remotely a fan of that even slightly being a possibility. I remember the nightmares that horror-related things gave me as a child and since she has an imagination that rivals mine, I do not want that for her.
There you have it. I don’t like this spooky season or the holiday to which it pertains. I don’t like that the entire month of October is rife with it. I just don’t. I am all for dressing in fun (not grotesque) costumes. I am definitely all for candy (preferably the chocolate kind). I even like ghost stories (of a historically interesting nature.) But when it comes to fear, dark things and just disturbance in general interrupting the beauty of my autumn, I am strongly opposed to it. Give me pumpkins and mums with corn stalks and hay bales. I am completely content with intense azure skies and brisk breezes. The only thing I want lurking in my October is some new recipe involving brown butter, cinnamon, apples and love.
Prose and Possibilities 