THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...Goose bumps dance up and down my arms. I glance around quickly, spotting Hawthorne at the foot of the bed and Beaux sound asleep in his house (Yes, oddly enough, my cat is crate trained...)
Me: (whispering) Hey! Hey, wake up! Did you hear that?
Rich: Hmm...? Wha...? Huh...?
Me: Did you hear that!?
Rich: No...
Me: Shh!
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
I give his back a disdainful glance. On some levels, I know he is right. Horror movies get the subconscious started in ways Alfred Hitchcock would die for, but that's neither here nor there at 3 a.m. on a dark and stormy night! Well, maybe not stormy. That was over before we even hit the hay. But still...!
Me: There it was again! Did you hear it?
Rich: Huh? Wha...?
Me: Did you hear it that time? What was that?
Rich: Will you stop waking me up!
Me: But--
Rich: I am never watching a horror movie with you again!
Me: I told you, but--
Rich: Go. To. Sleep!
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
I stop myself from slapping Rich on the back--after all, that was getting me nowhere faster than a snail on the Audubon. I peek over the edge of the bed into the semi-darkness. Neither of the animals have stirred, giving me hope that there's at least nothing in the bedroom! Slowly, ever so slowly I lower my feet to the floor, the cold (cold like the dead!) hardwood floors. I gently reach over and grab a book from the nightstand, the only not-a-weapon-but-could-be-a-weapon-in-desperate-times thing within reach, hard cover, of course. I see in the dim light of the alarm clock that Hawthorne has raised his head with irritated interest, as if to say "Dude! Even I don't get up at this time of night! What gives?"
I motion for him to stay, but then think better of that--after all, what's the purpose of having a dog if I don't use him to scare the intruder/monster/creature from the Black Lagoon away?
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
I freeze. Hawthorne whips his head around and stares out into the blacker than black hallway. Feeling slightly vindicated but still not convinced this is anything to fear (Remember the great Tea-Kettle Demon of West Bowmans incident? I haven't...), I pull the curtain aside that keeps the air conditioning within and the heat and humidity without...
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
Definitely louder than it was... Hawthorne hops onto the bed where I had just been lying, ever the faithful grave-hopper ("Don't say 'grave'!" my Subconscious shouts) and joins Rich in a symphony of snores and warbles. I roll my eyes (a waste of energy in the darkness when no one is around to witness it) and turn my attentions back toward the hallway. If Hawthorne's not worried, I really shouldn't be either, I suppose...
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
("Sounds like a dead body being kicked around," Subconscious whispers in my ear...) I stretch, stretch and take three steps to switch on the hall light and am instantly surrounded by the dim glow of it's full-strength 25 watts (Note to self: Buy 60-watt bulbs tomorrow) and am instantly reminded of the sickly glow usually reserved for death wards in hospitals and prisoners on death row. Steeling myself while simultaneously silencing Subconscious, I inch my way around the corner and peer into the dark dining room...
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
I whip around and stare at the spare bedroom door--this is where the noise is coming from, behind the wooden bedroom door. ("This is how people die," the back of my mind whispers. "They open doors like these in the dead of the night..." "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!" I scream back into its recesses) I start to reach for the door knob, but pause. After all, Subconscious does have a point. I can almost hear the audience in the theater screaming at me, "Don't open it! Run for your life now! Why do they never run!" ("Famous last words," Subconscious whispers.)
I steal my nerves and grip the knob. I take a deep breath before turning it, sure that one of two things is about to happen:
- I am about to die, or
- I'm about to feel very foolish.
Either way, it seems feeling foolish is inevitable... (I love irony!)
Once the door creaks open to about two inches wide, I slip my hand in and switch on the light, bathing the room in a slightly brighter, slightly less sickly glow. (I really do need to stop purchasing generic light bulbs...) After I pull my hand back out and count the digits (You always hear about how razor sharp teeth aren't felt until it's too late!) I push the door open the rest of the way, listening to it complain about its need for WD-40...
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
It seems so loud that I jump and emit a sound not too different from that which would come from a little school girl. I squint in my new found light at the various corners of the room, also making it a point to look up! (Another thing people in the movies never do... Which is why they die...)
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
I jump again, minus the prepubescent noises and focus in on the open window. ("It's in the HOUSE! It's in the HOUSE!" Subconscious screams.) Conscious notes that we have left them open to air out the room. ("RUN! RUN!" Subconscious screams, nearly hysterical.) I step past the dusty treadmill, around the piles of yet-to-be-sold yard sale items, and make my way toward the window...
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
A branch. Specifically, the branch from my butterfly bush. The wind was causing it to thump against the window frame and then rub its leaves along the screen...
Somewhat regularly, I might add...
THUMP! Shhhh.... Shhh...
More than just a tad relieved, I lift up the screen and break off the offending branch. I listen. I feel slightly foolish.
But better. Mostly because I'm not dead, but partially because I have once again conquered Subconscious (the bastard...). I close the screen ("One day I'll save your life, ingrate," Subconscious replies in a sulk) and toss the branch, covered in pretty purple blooms, into the trash can by the door.
After kicking Hawthorne out of my grave ("There's that word again!") I snuggle back deep in the sheets, a light breeze from the air conditioner brushing my cheek.
'Twas Brillig in the Slithy Toves indeed... (FYI, don't watch A Haunting in Connecticut if you're anything like me... Or Subconscious...)
Rich: Huh? Wha? Go to sleep!
Me: Yes, dear.
1 comment:
LOL LOL LOL LOL :) :) :) :)
FYI, I didn't think A Haunting in Connecticut was at all scary... I watched it while Olivia was sleeping and John wasn't here...all alone. And then slept fine thereafter. LOL
Anyway, nice post. I was amused.
Love ya,
Red
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