I am no stranger to nightmares – and I have them to thank for my imagination. It was a blessing in disguise that my parents let me watch The Shining when I was ten years old, even though it haunted me for years to come. From that time on, I was afraid not just of the dark, but of the worst imaginings that any quiet moment offered. Playing video games in the basement, I sometimes dreaded what I would see if I turned around, or what stood in the hallway in the middle of the night when I opened my bedroom door. I could no longer sleep without a nightlight. Then finally, something happened which made me truly wonder for the first time whether the things that go bump in the night were all in my mind.
 
At all hours, my elderly tutor’s house had a harrowing stillness broken only by the ticking of a grandfather clock. Even while immersed in math problems at the dinner table, I felt my hairs stand on end. To this day, I am not entirely sure if what I saw when I turned to look out into the garden was real. But I saw enough in that brief moment: the floating figure of a grey lady in Victorian dress. Whether she was real or not, the dread I felt that day has been as inspiring as it was traumatizing.

​The very worst of my imaginings, which years later would be compounded by long hours writing university papers, when my sleepless mind would play tricks on me, have also fed my inspirations as a horror writer.
 
For me, ghosts are always lurking around the corner, prowling in my thoughts. Though frightening, they also thrill and delight me no less than my favourite video games, and continue to inspire me to bring the scariest parts of my imagination to life.

​                                                                                                               - Jocelyn James Ingram