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Ghosts of Novels Past: Tremblay, horror, and an excuse to use a colon.

I am easily startled. I jump scare with the best of them. I unleash a very feminine shriek, gripping my wife’s arm, spilling popcorn with an outstretched finger hissing, “BEWARE.”

But I am not easily frightened. And I certainly do not stay up all night staring at the ceiling because the hotel I’m in has something flashing over and over again. Because the air conditioner kicks in at an interval I can’t calculate. Because more people seem to walk past my door at four in the morning and stop… stop there. My wife’s sleeping breaths do not cause me anxiety.

And yet.