Have I Invited A Demon Into My House?

While writing She Who Hunts I had an idea in my head, one of those 'what if' moments. I remember watching the news and after a murder had happened the news anchor interviewed a neighbor of the suspect. "He was such a nice guy," the neighbor said. It always seems that after someone commits some heinous crime there is someone in their lives who declare this person was such a wonderful person, the kind of person who would do anything for anyone. But, how the hell did the person just snap and become a serial killer? My first thought-maybe they became possessed.

Now, as I'm working on the second book, I've become almost obsessed with the idea of demon possessions, and evil walking among us. I have to admit there are times when it feels like someone is in the room with me, and not just the characters who are busily chatting it up in my head. Sometimes, when the house is really quiet, and I'm really into a scene, it seriously feels like there's someone standing behind me. I whip around, ready to yell at whatever kid snuck in and was now reading over my shoulder to find an empty room.



Have I possibly brought the demons from She Who Hunts into my own life? Or has the story just become so alive to me that I keep waiting for those things which go bump in the night to tap me on the shoulder? How about you? Ever get so creeped out by something you wrote or read that you checked under your bed before climbing in?
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Published on July 17, 2012 12:32
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message 1: by Katarina (last edited Jul 20, 2012 03:48PM) (new)

Katarina Things that go bump in the night can be very annoying, static chattering constant wanting to get your attention I have had to learn to turn the volume down quite a neat trick actually especially when those not so good ones from the other side follow you around and yes turning around telling someone to go away and they are not their. Checking behind the curtains was something I always used to do, heart thumping loudly. Sometimes and even now I still feel a slight brush on my shoulder. Imagination or reality who knows... Happy Writing C.L


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