I remember being about ten years old, standing next to my mother on a museum tour. We're the only two people in the hallway. It's quiet, but Mom is suddenly Mom is on high alert. Her face turns white. Her breathing hastens. She raises a hand to her face to pinch her noise bridge.

"Let's keep walking. I can't stay in here."

We duck out of the room and wait for the tour to end outside. We go to a cafe down the street. She sits down and orders an ice tea, rubbing her temples.

 

"Honey don't worry. Sometimes I just pick up on things. I'm just sensitive. That's all."

Later that night, as we get ready to go to bed, she goes into further detail. As I'd been looking around in that hallway, she'd felt an overwhelming loneliness. A navy colored sadness had washed over her, reaching out from some ancient corner. It almost made her choke. A female anguish from two hundred years ago had consumed her while I was inches away from her, oblivious.

I'm ten years old when my mom sees a ghost, on a quiet day at the Tower of London.

I'm ten years old when I begin to wonder what that will mean for me.

 

It's been almost sixteen years since then. The weird shit I've seen since then could fill an entire encyclopedia. I've got to seances, ghost hunts, and the occasional occult dance party. There's been premonitions outside of dorm rooms, folk magic remedies during finals weeks, and some unlikely advice from beyond. What better time to share this new series than in the best month of the year? Look out for my next installment in this series as the veil thins between the realms. Maybe a few of my readers from the other side while be waiting along with the living.

Happy October.

Welcome to Spookentines.

 

What lies just beyond the trees? What calls beyond the grave? Who else could capture all this mysticism then the legendary Chad Harnish?