When I was growing up, I was never afraid of the dark.

I never feared the dark spaces under my bed, the gloom in the closet, the one corner of the basement that the light never seemed to reach.

I didn't get scared of the knocks on the walls, the groaning of our old house settling, or the odd scraping noises outside my room at night.

Even a slight flutter or tapping on my window wasn't spooky to me, and I could sleep comfortably through the night. That all comes from spending your whole childhood in a haunted house.

When my room would be rearranged by an unseen force, I'd just clean it up.

When cups flew across the room, I'd catch them.

Eventually, I started responding to the actions, even giving my friends names.

It wasn't uncommon in my early teen years

for my mom to hear. Don't even think about it. Daryl, as a cup would start to slide across the table,

so I'd never been afraid of the supernatural. I believe in monsters, but I never used to be afraid of them.

They all had to just be misunderstood and lonely, like me, you think.

My favorite place on our property was the knoll,

a little bump of a hill at the edge of the cornfield

where the woods came closest to the house.

It was a good 500 feet from the barnyard,

but still far enough that I could get some space and some quiet.

The trees in this part of the woods were tall, far taller than the trees that covered the rest of our woodlot. Their canopies blocked out some of the sun and their needles made the ground soft,

perfect for sitting and relaxing with a thermos of coffee, and a book on an early fall afternoon, before the snow hit. It was always easy to find a place to lean as these ancient trees had long ago lost their lower limbs and the forest here felt like a gothic cathedral. High vaulted pillars, the partial twilight even during the day, with small bursts of light breaking through the canopy, even the singing

of the birds or the rustling of mice was like a symphony of its own.

I may have lived in the house, but I lived for the woods, especially my little part of it.

My parents always taught me to come back before sunset, not to whistle, and to never follow

if anyone was calling my name. I never questioned these rules.

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