I don’t particularly like being scared. I don’t watch scary movies. I don’t participate in extreme sports. I don’t read horror novels. I prefer scientific explanations of legends to the legends themselves. I don’t like to be scared, but I love stories about ghosts, vampires and werewolves.
So many of the legends have an element of a blessing to them. Vampires are allowed to live forever. Werewolves have one night a month where they are forced to be violent and aggressive animals. Ghosts promise a continuation of consciousness after death. Even Frankenstein lets us hope for reanimation.
We love stories about these literary characters because we place ourselves in the place of the villains. We imagine how we would conduct our immortal lives, addicted to blood. We wonder how we would be able to contain our animal desires when the full moon rises. We worry about our sentience being trapped in a house after our bodies have rotted. It’s not fear that makes us love stories about ghosts, vampires and werewolves; it’s desire.
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing