I don't feel like writing any more ghost stories.

I still have this deep-down fear that if I go poking into the bushes I might find a dead body.

I wished that the chains would break and the wind would sweep me up, up, up into the sky, beyond the clouds, beyond the sun and the moon, to some marvelous kingdom where no one ever changed and friends were friends for life.

A story comes to you; it isn't like you choose it. You have no real control.

I don't feel like writing any more ghost stories.

I never thought that people my own age could die, let alone be murdered. Things like that didn't happen in 1955. The suburbs were a safe place, where nobody even locked their doors.

There are a lot of reasons to doubt things.