• Comment

It will frighten you

Posted: October 25, 2014 - 11:07pm

The story I must tell is ghastly. It’s grim. And, it’s true.

My tale begins just weeks ago. One afternoon, I walked into the den. The television flashed and hummed for no one.

As I made my way across the room to turn it off, an odd sensation swept over me. I don’t know how to describe it, but I knew something was not right. I felt . . . a presence.

Shaking off the eerie mood, I convinced myself that my mind was playing tricks on me. Then, when I turned to leave the den, I saw it, an unexplainable grape covered in ketchup on an abandoned plate on the coffee table.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow darken the door. The owner paused just out of sight. “I see you,” I said, my voice quivering.

A face peered around the molding. “Did you leave this here?” I asked.

The child claimed, “It isn’t mine,” and disappeared.

Someone lurked in the hallway, listening. A dark silence fell. He tried to drift away undetected. “I know you’re there,” I announced. He showed himself. I pointed to the presence. “What do you know about this? Did you put it here?”

His eyes widened and he protested, “It isn’t mine. I’ve never seen it before. I don’t know what it is.”

My gut churned. My heart pounded. I sighted the boy in the crosshairs of my suspicions.

But a voice coming from upstairs caught my attention.

When I turned back to the boy, he was gone. I had a bad feeling about the situation.

The unwanted presence unsettled me.

I called out to the voice. My daughter answered.

For the first time that afternoon my isolation abated. “Have you been in the den today?” I asked. “Did you leave something in there?”

“It isn’t mine,” she called back. Maybe only I could detect the presence. Maybe I was going mad. Maybe they expected me to exorcise it from the den.

I wouldn’t. I feared what might ultimately happen if I did. I’ve watched enough horror movies to know that I should not deal with it alone. The children and I were going to have to face it together.

Days passed. A purplish fuzz sprouted from it. It was growing, morphing, creeping toward the edge of the plate. My fear ballooned, but I refused to be the only one to acknowledge it. Surely, it would soon disturb the children.

Weeks went by. I avoided the den, but occasionally glanced in to check if it was still there.

It glared at me through a set of glassy eyeballs. A ring of slime oozed from its expanding ragged perimeter. I shuddered. “It isn’t you that it wants,” I reassured myself. “A child must sacrifice.”

Yesterday, the presence sneered with jagged teeth. It pulsed, bmp-bmp, bmp-bmp. It cast an evil smell on the room. The hairs in my nostrils stood on end. Children flopped on sofas and chairs, oblivious.

Reaching into my soul, I summoned courage, drew in a breath and entered the den. It rose up as if to leap toward me. Taking the dog leash from my back pocket, I wrapped the rope around its neck.

It purred and gazed at me with big eyes.The children snapped out of their daze. “I want to hold it,” one clamored. “Can I keep it? It’s so cute,” another pleaded. The third reached to pet it.I slapped his hand away. “No. It’s alive and It’s mine. Mwahhhh-ha-ha-ha!” I cackled.

True story.

Happy Halloween!

  • Comment