The Ghost Stories that Haunt Me

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I joined a “Classic Ghost Stories” interest group recently (It’s called “The Classic Ghost Story Tradition” on Facebook, if you’re interested); the group focuses on “classic” ghost stories, those from the mostly British tradition written around the late nineteenth to the early twentieth centuries. Authors from this tradition include M.R. James, E.F. Benson, Sheridan Le Fanu, Robert Aickman. Rudyard Kipling and Robert Louis Stevenson wrote a few of these, too.

I’ve enjoyed the discussions, and gotten a few good recommendations. But I realized that while I very much like the authors and the stories that tend to come up, they aren’t the stories that have struck me the most, in my reading.

It’s got me thinking about what I like in a good ghost story.

They don’t have to be scary (though a little frisson is nice: just one scene, or even just a single image that makes me gasp or my pulse to skip a beat will do it). The ghost doesn’t have to be malevolent or evil. The story shouldn’t be gory or bloody, but a touch of gruesome is okay.

The stories that have really stuck with me — I won’t call them my favorites, but rather the stories that have crept into some corner of my mind and stayed there — aren’t always the best known stories by their authors. They aren’t always the stories by those authors that I think are the scariest, or even the best written. But for whatever reason, they haunt me.

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