"You know how many dead people are buried in that cemetery?"
"All of them."
Yeah, my dad, lanky as Old Abe, was a real joker. I really wasn't afraid of the ghosts in the cemetery across the street. Although Dad could sure tell some great ghost stories, spell binding stories with amazing sound effects, it was the THING under my bed I feared most. I just knew that thing would grab my foot. That THING made me shiver on the hottest days of summer and tuck my feet under a blanket. That was before air conditioning. In the daylight, I looked under the bed. I knew there was nothing there. But still, that primal fear raged in my terrifed body each night.
My former brother-in-law used to wake up during the night when he was a little boy and scream bloody murder at the THING in the bathroom...which was actually laundry his mom hung on the shower curtain rod. Night after night, he awoke terrified. Night after night, I went to bed terrified.
Even to this day, I have a slight unrealistic fear of hanging my feet off the bed.
What makes you jump with fright? BOO!