Sometime last year, I think, I rejoined a cult that I was a member of as a child–the Cult of the Public Library.

You should look into it, by the way. My chosen branch is the Arapahoe Library District. I’ll not mention the particular branch–where I choose to attend services–because it’s fairly near my house [though, weirdly enough, not near enough for me to be included in their district, so I’m just outside their service area, which limits some of my borrowing abilities].

My most recent…I’m running out of ways to make this sound churchian. Fuck. My most recent attendance was actually from home. From bed, even. The library has truly become a magical place. The benediction was a simple submission of my library card number, and a few words typed into a search form. So many books…and I could borrow twelve at once.

Twelve. In the old days, that could hold me for…a day or two, maybe a week if the books were long.

So, I wasted seven on the shittiest ‘nonfiction’ ghost books I could find. Well, five. The other two were Joe Hill books.

I won’t be talking about Joe Hill’s stuff, because one of them was just one story from a collection, and it did not suck.

I don’t like talking about things that don’t suck, because I can’t find words.

I want to talk about one of the ones that sucked. Ghost Hunt 2: MORE Chilling Tales of the Unknown.

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