The Suspenseful Mind

I love suspense in movies and books. The not-knowing makes my stomach quiver with delicious anxiety. When the author has done a good job, I'll keep reading until the bad guy (or gal) is finally revealed and the main character is finally safe from danger.

Growing up with four siblings, there was plenty of suspense within the Nicolaisen walls. When Mother and Daddy went out for a rare date, my older brother and sister - our sitters - devised all sorts of ghoolish entertainment for us younger kids. Mostly it involved turning out all the lights in the house and hiding. The hiding was a deadly serious endeavor; if you got caught you'd be tickled mercilessly until you howled in agony.

Hiding in a dark bedroom closet was a scary thing for a six year old. And with a mind already fueled by watching too many B-rated horror movies, the most horrible thrill was imagining my older brother or sister - tip-toeing around the house - suddenly transformed into. . .
a giant, carnivorous ant,

or a Martian with plans to embed a mind-controlling chip in the base of my skull,

or an alien trying to plant a giant pod next to me that, when it sprouts, will reveal an emotionless replica of me.

I'm surprised that our neighbors didn't call the police on those house-darkened evenings, what with all the squeals of terror emanating from the open windows.

When our parents arrived home they'd always ask us how everything went. "Oh, just fine," older brother would report. And since there were no obvious bruises, bloody noses, or dried tears on our faces everything was cool.

Nights in those darkened rooms were kind of like the cheap version of riding a scary ride at Six Flags. Just a hint of real danger.
The car could possibly come off the tracks of the roller coaster.
Always the possibility that Jay or Lee really had become crazed child murderers.
Nah.

But it could happen.

Couldn't it?