The thing I love about horror novels involving the supernatural is that the scary thing lurking in the closet is usually a stand-in for something else. That "something else" can be interpreted by the reader, and maybe it can help them process their anxiety -- or at the very least realize therapy might help. For a writer, it can be a way to process that anxiety, too. We're allowed to try out different scenarios where we can imagine our fear as the worst case or conquer it all together.
Angry spirits are the antagonists in my novel in progress, Within Thin Places. In every TV show or movie the Angry Spirit or Demonic Possession -- they are pretty interchangeable -- are invasive things you can’t get rid of or control. They are completely indifferent to you the way a virus or infestation is. Like cockroaches, you can't always see them, but you know they are there. Like mice living in your walls, you see signs of them around your house. You consult the experts, you try to get rid of them, and nothing works. They drive you insane. Then one day the cupboard moths finally disappear. You've put every grain, flour, and cereal into glass canisters. Their eggs stop showing up in every pantry item you have. You stop second-guessing if your risotto seems webby, and you stop throwing things out just to be safe. That idea of "evil spirit" has always bothered me, made me uneasy for all the reasons I've likened to pest control. So, naturally, I want to capture a little of that anxiety in my book.
I've had my fair share of strange and inexplicable experiences. My religious upbringing familiarized me with the idea of angels who look after you, who help you, who are close with God and love you. There are demons and the devil who want to punish you for all the sins you've committed, or thought about committing, or could possibly commit in the future. My book deals with those spirits who are neither angel nor demon. They exist in a third category, sometimes called Elemental spirits by the ancient Greeks and Romans, the Fair Folk by the Celts, and the pantheon of spirits like Pele in the Hawaiian culture. They are nearly universal -- some glimpse of them can be seen in nearly every culture's literature or belief system around the world. These spirits exist by their own rules, they don’t empathize with us, and they don’t care about what we think or say or how we identify with them or our culture. They aren’t human and they aren't like us. They aren’t angelic, they have little interest in saving or protecting us. They aren’t demonic and they don't want to destroy us or turn us from God. They are indifferent to us. They want to extinguish us for the very sake of being free from us, I imagine it's similar to the way we feel about catching lice. Can the lice say or do anything to you that would keep you from eradicating them? Is there a race of lice you like more than another? Or lice that respect you with rites and ceremonies that would cause you to tolerate them living, eating, defecating, and reproducing on your scalp? Probably not, although I can't answer for you specifically.
I think of these Other Ones -- these neither human/angel/demon
spirits -- as existing beside us in their own plane. They are largely unaware of us, but in certain places -- thin places -- maybe we have a chance to encounter one another. Maybe you're lucky and encounter a curious one who at the very worst just loses interest in you. Or maybe you aren't so lucky and you encounter one that hates what they don't know and wants to stomp you out like an ugly bug because you gross it out just by being you. There are endless possibilities related to this encounter, a million ways it can go. When writing it, I'm tasked with figuring out what the encounter represents.
My fictitious family, the Roscoes, hail from Hawaii. The family matriarch is interested in local genealogy, of the mixed heritage so common to her ancestors that came to work on the sugarcane plantations over multiple generations. The Other Ones here can easily represent the invasion of American and European oligarchs that stole the Hawaiian kingdom from the last reigning monarch, Queen Liliuokalani. But the angry spirits can also just as easily represent the ancient Hawaiians who had been invaded. The Roscoes' family tree has roots in both indigenous and immigrant populations, and the theme is that you don't get to choose who your ancestors are, even if you do have to carry on their legacy. One of the fascinations people have with genealogy is the possibility of uncovering someone of importance. They look to their family tree for heroes, as if they are the modern day reincarnation of some great figure. But in my story what is inherited is the bad blood, the effects of a mistake they have to be held accountable for. They have to uncover secrets of their family history so they can rid themselves of this burden, this family curse. The Other Ones become a metaphor for oppression as well as the oppressed. They are a stand in for a loss of control over one's narrative, of one's own feelings, of the coverup we tell ourselves about our history so that we can feel better about our present.
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