Scared Shitless

A quick blurb before I head to bed. I'm up way to fucking late and people I live with will most certainly be bugging me to get up mere hours from now. Grrr! But I just had to make a quick mention of this. I'm reading Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill. For those of you who don't know Joe Hill is the son of the greatest author to ever live Mr. Stephen King. Tonight he has suceeded in scaring me to my core! In a way his father never really has. I mean I had the serious wig. In the book one character is telling another about a time she saw a ghost in her backyard. The ghost of a little girl, blowing dandelions in the wind. I won't go into detail of what happens in the story, because you've just got to read it for yourself, but I was outside smoking in my backyard when I read the damn chapter. And it was quiet and it was the middle of the night and it seriously scared the shit out of me. I let out a low moan of terror and sat frozen in my lawn chair, slowly gathering the courage to get up and go back inside. Once I did I kinda ran into my room. I felt like a tiny little girl. I still kind of do. My nicotine addicted brain is begging me to take a drag on death one more time before bed. I think I will. But I'm gonna do it in the front yard...for my own good. Even that feels...unsafe. Wish me well.