So I was happy to see “Western Ghosts,” edited by McSherry, Waugh, and Greenberg, at the local thrift store.
I was a bit disappointed when I got home and looked further. The book isn’t full of “true” ghost stories, but short fiction. And then I got to reading and I was further disappointed.
Pretty Maggie Moneyeyes, for example – my introduction to Harlan Ellison fiction – was a disappointment. Felt like it was written by that creepy yet somewhat-more-intelligent-than-average kid you knew in junior high school.
And story after story in this book were klunkers.
Then I got to Clark Howard’s “Custer’s Ghost,” and the book was almost redeemed.
Which is more ghostly? John’s leg pain, or the visions and memories he has of being a Native American at Custer’s Last Stand; of Crazy Horse egging him on to go back to Montana to avenge himself on Wendell Stuart, the soldier who caused his injury?
I won’t spoil the story. But this is the kind of ghost story I love to read, because, in a way, it’s the kind of ghost story familiar to most of us (not because we hear such good stories all the time, but because, in some ways, we’ve lived such a story).
“The Ghosts of Steamboat Coulee,” by Arthur Burks, is also a gem of a tale. Again, no spoilers, but it’s the kind of story I could see myself in.
Nevertheless, the quest for a book of true ghost stories goes on . . .
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