Maybe a Ghost Story

I don’t believe in Ghosts and I’ve never been comfortable with (or really, any good at) frightening people. One Halloween, maybe forty years ago, me, my mum and my brother turned off every light in the house and waited just inside the front door, for my dad to get home from work so we could frighten him. We’d made frightening lanterns from turnips and we’d learned a frightening song about witches. But when my Dad walked in he wasn’t frightened. He was, if anything, visibly relieved. Apparently, having found the house in complete darkness he’d immediately been concerned as to the whereabouts and wellbeing of his family. Which meant that opening the door to find his sons waggling candle lit turnips and singing about being witches was, actually, quite close to comforting. Later, he said he’d been worried by all the lights being off and I felt bad about causing that worry. I still do.