ghosts

With regard to ghosts, while we have never believed in them, we have always been afraid of them.

We all have that inner fear of the dark, no matter how old we get. It's an ingrained instinct to fear the velvety blackness of the night, of things you can't quite see, but know deep down in your bones is there, waiting.

The day when the fire that we had lit in our minds reaches our hearts, we will start turning every person that we come in contact with into ashes. We become the ghosts that we always feared.

I think locality exercises strange influence over some minds. The peaceful meadow-scenery holds no lurking horrors in its bosom, but in the lonesome moorlands, full of curiously molded boulders, grotesque fancies must assail one there. Creatures seem to come, odd and ill-defined as their surroundings. As a child I had a peculiar horror of those tall, odd-shaped boulders, with seeming faces, featureless, it is true, but sometimes strangely resembling humans and animals. I believe the spinney may be haunted by something of this nature, terrible as the trees. ("The Haunted Spinney")

The ignorant frighten children with ghosts, and the better educated assure them there is no such thing. Our understanding may believe the latter, but our instincts believe the former; so that, out of this education, we retain the terror, and just believe enough to make it very troublesome whenever we are placed in circumstances that awaken it.

Scarcely has night arrived to undeceive, unfurling her wings of crepe (wings drained even of the glimmer just now dying in the tree-tops); scarcely has the last glint still dancing on the burnished metal heights of the tall towers ceased to fade, like a still glowing coal in a spent brazier, which whitens gradually beneath the ashes, and soon is indistinguishable from the abandoned hearth, than a fearful murmur rises amongst them, their teeth chatter with despair and rage, they hasten and scatter in their dread, finding witches everywhere, and ghosts. It is night... and Hell will gape once more.

It will seem to many persons very inconsistent with their ideas of the dignity of a spirit that they should appear and act in the manner I have described, and shall describe further; and I have heard it objected that we cannot suppose God would permit the dead to return merely to frighten the living, and that it is showing Him little reverence to imagine He would suffer them to come on such trifling errands, or demean themselves in so undignified a fashion. But God permits men of all degrees of wickedness, and of every kind of absurdity, to exist, and to harass and disturb the earth, whilst they expose themselves to its obloquy or its ridicule.

Patches don__ look it, but when attached to your soul they can get pretty heavy. They go over the holes in your soul, like when you patch a sock. When you have a hole in your soul, it__ because you__e hurting from something. I don__ know if you noticed, but that girl had a lot of holes.

Somehow her hula hoop had cut into the driver__ side door like the vehicle was made of cheese.

Because I am, just as you are you. We don__ always get to pick who we are, Shelly Wynn, but we can choose to celebrate it.

There__ nothing wrong with you at all. Sometimes people say or do things that are mean because there's something the matter with them. With Lydia, it seems there__ always something wrong with her.

She could spin it between her legs, skip with it, twirl it around her neck and transfer it from one arm to the other. Shelly hooped because she enjoyed it; it calmed her whenever she would have an argument or a bad day at school, and it also allowed her to think. Today, she needed to hoop more than ever.

Soon, all the children were chanting it. __o school! No school!

Aloha Oukou. It looked like your soul was escaping so I put you in a tree.

The shadow self is what lies beneath the makeup. It__ those ugly parts that you haven__ accepted about yourself. You hide those parts in the shadows until you__e ready._ Her face remained a haunting calm. __hen you realize the scars are who you are, that there was nothing wrong with you and that you were beautiful all along - that__ when you decide to take the makeup off.

It__ no big deal. It__ kind of like a tattoo. It won__ hurt, not too much, just a few stitches and it__l be all over. It__ really interesting how it__ done. You won__ believe where your soul hides. Go on, take a guess. Where do you think it is?

Lydia displays her right hand and instantly bathed the room with a blinding light. It lasted only a moment before it drew back into her palm. __ can fix you if you__e ever broken.

I__ afraid they__e not coming._ Abby said fearfully. __ur parents, our teachers _ everyone! They__e disappeared. That__ it. Lights out, Shelly. We__e on our own.