I grew up in Pueblo, CO as a child, and I remember my older sisters taking us to an abandoned insane asylum in the pitch-black night.  We would arrive at the grounds, and park on the side of an old dusty road.  Across the meadow stood the haunted ruins (I have no idea what the name was), so we would march across the field, climb over a dilapidated chain link fence and explore the derelict buildings.

No sooner than our feet hit the ground on the other side of the fence, my sisters would start egging us on with spooky legends of ghosts and torture and death.  I remember this clearly because after 10 minutes of this, every sound I heard made the hair on my arms and neck stand at attention.  My skin tingled with fear.  My senses heightened.

Certain that my death was imminent, I prepared myself for a ghost to jump out from a dark corner and slash me from head to toe.  I imagined that I would lay there, unable to scream for help, while this demonic form hovered over me, it’s sly smile full of menace, and watch the life drain from my eyes.

At the time, this was not enjoyable for me.  Honestly, it scared the crap out of me each time we went.  But as time has passed, I look back on this experience fondly.  Perhaps it’s because I was so traumatized by it that I’ve developed an unnatural love for all things frightening.  Or, it could be that this was one of the few times that my older sisters paid any attention to us younger ones, and I’ve romanticized it.

Either way, the stuff of legends always entertains.  Now, when I suffer my regular fits of insomnia, I scour the internet for local legends that bring a fresh bout of terror to my dreams.