Thursday, January 24, 2013

Only by the ghouls who are dead...

Damn straight I am scared of the dark.  I am not afraid to admit it.  If you had been through some of the things I have, you would be too.  It started when I was a little kid and stopped when I moved out of my parents' house.

When we lived on Roeske Ave, I had my own room.  It was a 70s theme - shag carpet with a rug rake, pink and orange psychedelic flower decor with 2 windows, a corner room. Totally bad ass.  When I was 7 I started having people visit my room.  People who didn't live in my house; hell they didn't live anywhere, they weren't alive.  I would come to the breakfast table and ask my mom why she was in my room so late last night.  She would say, I wasn't in your room.  I would respond, yes you came in, pulled the curtain back, and looked out the window.  She would say, that wasn't me.  Holy Shit...I don't think I knew the word shit back then, but if I did that's what I was thinking.  After that first time, when that person came to visit me I would cover my head with my blanket and hold as still as possible.  I am lucky I didn't pass out from holding my breath.  I know for a fact (yes I do) that several times the person stood there next to my bed looking at me.  I could feel it.  Makes my hair stand on end just writing about it.  Holy shit, I hope they don't come here.  Dammit that would be bad.  You know we had a dog.  Why didn't our dog warn me of the spooks and ghosts.  Wasn't my breath supposed to show when it happened?  What the hell?  Okay I am really getting freaked...

So when I was 10 we moved to Kenwood Place, an upscale neighborhood, we had a big, dark, and spooky house with an effing basement.  Most kids are thrilled to have a basement not me. I never walked up or down those stairs.  I ran up and down just to be sure nothing grabbed my feet. Why is it that everyone in my family stores all the food in the basement.  What is that???  OH MY GOD AND THE STORAGE SPACE RIGHT NEXT TO MY ROOM!  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!! Unfortunately the dead people moved with us. They hung out in the attic, storage space, and basement. They never visited my older brother Eric, but they did visit Darren and my mom, so I have real proof they "existed."  My mom finally came clean about the whole ghost thing when I was older. Are you it comes...are the little hairs on your neck standing up?  Here are the most memorable moments:

Time #1:  when I was 7 my mom had gotten up in the middle of the night.  She had gone into the bathroom that was next to my room.  She saw the apparition in the hallway.  It scared her so bad she couldn't leave the bathroom.  She ended up sitting on the toilet and sleeping there. That was the first night I remember being visited.

Time #52: One night my mom was in her bedroom, it was late and we were all in our rooms sleeping. She heard Darren's door open but didn't hear any footsteps of him going to the bathroom or anything. Then there was a knock at her door.  She looked up and there was no light under the door.  No kid in our house moved about without turning on the hall light.  She got scared.  She hadn't heard any footsteps to her door.  She turned over, covered her head with her bedspread and hoped for the best.  She then heard her door open, no footsteps, then someone sitting on the bed and coming up behind her.  Whomever it was gave her a big hug.  She was petrified with fear, then the phone rang.  Holy hell, that is serious movie timing.  I would have died for sure, right there, and I would have pooped.  Uncle Wilmer really loved my little brother Darren.  Darren is deaf and Uncle Wilmer and he developed a special way of communicating.  My Uncle Wilmer got sick with cancer and was in the hospital. The phone call was from the hospital, Uncle Wilmer had just passed.  He came to say goodbye to Darren and my mom.  I know she wasn't crazy cuz I heard Darren's door open that night and when Darren came downstairs the next morning, he asked my mom why she came into his room so late and gave him a hug.  Hair standing up now????

Time #89: One night my mom and dad were in their bedroom.  They heard some banging around on the stairs coming upstairs and down the hallway, then there was a knock at their door.  My mom sat up and said, Shelley, you better have a good reason why you are being so loud this late at night.  Then she looked under the door - there was no light.  She knew I went no where in the dark.  She reached around and said, Jack, Jack wake up.  The person knocked at the door again.  Jack got up and saw there was no light under the door. They just looked at one another.  They knew it was not me.  Just then I came home and came into the house.  They were both a little freaked out.

My mom shared many other stories from over the years.  She said the ghosts were our relatives who had come to live with us.  She said that they were friendly, that they wouldn't scare us if we didn't want to see them.  I am pretty sure I didn't want to see them and they did whatever they wanted anyway.  I am still totally creeped out when I go back to my childhood home.  I absolutely hate it when I have to spend the night.  I leave the lights on in the room.  Not that it will help, but at least I get a little sleep.

Every once in a while when I am walking around in my home I catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye.  I always poo poo it away, but you never know.  Maybe they are more respectful of my fear these days.