As I write, nearing midnight, the bookcase behind me cracks. I start and turn. Nothing. There is a creak of a board in the hallway. I know it is the cool night wind-the uneven contraction of materials expanded in the heat of the day. It is this evolution of our sense of ghost terror-ages of it-that fascinates us. -- Reeve's Introduction
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As I write, nearing midnight, the bookcase behind me cracks. I start and turn. Nothing. There is a creak of a board in the hallway. I know it is the cool night wind-the uneven contraction of materials expanded in the heat of the day. It is this evolution of our sense of ghost terror-ages of it-that fascinates us. -- Reeve's Introduction
Read Less