I blogged earlier about the mystique of the closet, that alluring portal between light and dark that exists in the minds of children and...frisky adults. Another place that gives me the heebie jeebies is the abandoned shed. These structures litter the landscape of rural Florida. They list hard to the side, broken windows and padlocked doors incongruously inviting you to peek inside while cautioning you to stay away.
We had a little utility shed in the backyard of our home on Scotland Road in Pueblo, Colorado. I used to dork around in there when I was a kid--until the hornet's nest incident. I was playing with what I thought was a piece of corn still in the husk (my parents had a huge urban garden back then). I peeled back the paper-thin shell and a hornet the size of a robin flew out of there. It bounced off the walls and ceiling, dive-bombing me in its efforts to find blue sky. I screamed to wake the dead and since that day I've had an irrational fear of these sheds.
In Eastern Oregon (and in Florida) there are many ghost towns filled with these old utility buildings. In the event that you find some time on your hands and you want to shoot some pictures, head for the hills and seek them out. They fulfill a valuable purpose in October--to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up just a little in the cool fall air.
Here's another market for your stories, the Maguszine. My short story "Dinner at Shorty's" will appear in the Halloween issue of Samsara: The Magazine of Suffering shortly.