When I was a young child, I was afraid of the dark. I would beg my parents to leave the hallway light on outside of my bedroom, first and foremost because the light under my door chased away the darkest of the shadows in my room, but secondly because that same light would give me the slightest warning if a Jason Voorhees-esque monster came to a stop outside of my door. I was never a fan of scary movies, cursed as I was with an overactive imagination and an insatiable appetite for books. Nothing on a screen could scare me as much as what I saw in my mind as I burned between the covers of a Goosebumps book, or one of the many Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.
UNC Football: Spooky Season
