Part of the appeal and beauty of supernatural horror stories is their ability to explore the unexplained and incomprehensible. Horror stories often afford storytellers a level of freedom they can’t find in other genres – not if they’re going for something “serious,” anyway. Even the most outlandish science-fiction stories require a certain adherence to established rules, but a story about ghosts or demons or spiritual possession is pretty free to make up its own rules, and isn’t required to offer a sensible explanation for what is taking place. Hell, some horror stories are weakened by too much explanation; when you start trying to explain the inexplicable, you run the risk of ruining the suspense and mystery, or of just cooking up a lame, half-baked explanation that renders the proceedings ridiculous.
Stephen King’s first collection of short horror stories might still be his best. Then again, I might be a bit biased, since Night Shift is the first Stephen King book that I read. As a young horror fan I was, of course, already familiar with King’s work through film and television adaptations of his stories. I considered myself a fan of his, but at twelve-years-old I hadn’t actually read any of his books yet.
My folks had a copy of Night Shift sitting on the bookshelf . I had never looked twice at that book until the summer before I entered Junior High. I’m not sure why I had avoided it until then. Given that I was already exceptionally susceptible to nightmares, it’s likely that I feared that reading stories coming straight from King’s brain–as opposed to stories delivered from page to screen by some other party–would be more harrowing than I was ready to endure. That summer, I decided to take the dive.
The scariest children's horror anthology of the 80's! Hands down...
This is, to my recollection, my earliest encounter with a ghost story, antedating my ongoing, abusive, unhealthy love affair with horror. It’s not the clearest memory, I was only five-years-old, but it’s less opaque than other memories from that age.
“Who’s got my Golden Arm?!”
My kindergarten teacher’s name was Mrs. Nina (I can’t believe I remember that) and one day she decided to introduce the class to a classic tale about a chimeric spirit. I’m unsure if this was just a weird southern or Mississippi thing or if other parts of the country also had kindergarten teachers relate introductory tales of terror to their classes.