Since Halloween is now closer than ever, I’ve been getting interested in the spooky again. This time, what with living in such an old city, my focus has been on haunted places: houses, forts, graveyards and what-have-you.
Problematically for me, however, is the fact that I do not believe in the supernatural. This causes an issue when I hear that a scary story is true. I want them to be true. I really want to believe in them, if only so I can scare the bejesus out of myself.
And barring actually knowing if it’s true or not, I’ll even accept a little bit of mystery. I’ll accept the possibility of it being true, no matter how remote it is, just to keep that mystery alive. I want there to be mystery in the world, I want there to be trolls under bridges and magick in old forests and ghosts in the attic.
On the flipside, I can’t abide superstition and I can’t abide a belief in ghosts and spectors and phantoms. There is no such thing as spooks, there is no magic and I raise my eyebrows at folks who believe in those old campfire tales.
So puzzle that paradox out and I’m going to move right along to the point of this blog entry.
In view of the fact that it’s Halloween and taking into account my bipolar views on the supernatural, I decided I’m going to look up a haunted place in Boston and then go take a looksee. My only problem is picking a place to go. I found one place that looked promising, but then saw no other information on the supposed hauntedness of it outside of that one website. Finally, I settled on Fort Warren, a local Civil War Era fort on George’s Island.
Unfortunately I disproved the ghost without ever leaving my chair, which will be the subject for tomorrow’s blog entry.
The point is, I’m disillusioned and it’s only the first day of my grand mission to go to a haunted place. Maybe I need to stop being so skeptical. Except that feels like I’d actually have to turn off my brain, something I’m adverse to doing.
I want to be scared damn it and I refuse to accept that it’s impossible to do so.