Last week was a tough one for me. The enormity of the coronavirus situation finally sank in, not to mention the long-term implications of home-schooling, and working full-time, and doing all the other usual tasks around the house.
A while back, my son sneezed. I replied with a predictable ‘bless you’, and he said ‘thanks’ in return.
‘Oh no,’ I replied quickly. ‘You mustn’t thank me, not for a sneeze.”
I’d said it without even thinking; and was unprepared when he asked for a reason why.
Often, ghost stories centre around humans. Whether they’re grey-dressed ladies, drifting mournfully down ancient hallways, or black-eyed children peering round darkened corners, our spooky stories are frequently human-centric.
In 1965, a strange story in the USA hit the world’s headlines. A man was hitchhiking, when an enormous brightly lit object hovered above his head. His eyewitness account, in isolation, would normally have been dismissed as drunken rambling, or attention-seeking lies.