The Power of Imagination

So, I read a scary book last night. It wasn't gory, crude, explicit, or creepy. It was just scary. It was a book that relied on the imagination of the reader to fill in the blanks of the story to make it as creepy as you could handle. Unfortunately for me, my brain fills in way more than I can handle. Probably wasn't my best plan to read it in the middle of the night, but I was up and bored.

While we are on the subject, why is it that it is in the middle of the night that the house decides to "settle?" Or, that the furnace kicks in with frightening irregularity? Or, the person beside you suddenly cries out in a dream? None of these things are good when one is deeply engrossed in a scary book!

I made myself scared. There was no sleeping after that book. Stupid book! Well, not really, but you understand. I blame my parents for giving us too much time to explore and develop an imagination. If they had been like everyone else's parents, we would have had our minds ruined with television until we could think of nothing outside of what was directly told us.

Wait, perhaps I should be thanking them, instead of scolding them. Thanks mom and dad for making it possible for me to nearly wet myself at 3:15 am when the furnace kicked in just as the lady walked into the dark room by herself. It was a great moment, and one that I am very happy had no witnesses.