I love October. Not because of the whole “fall” theme, or that the temperatures start to fall…but because it contains my absolutely favorite holiday. Don’t get me wrong, I love the fat man. Completely adore him. If I had unlimited funds my Christmas decor would rival the White House. Except that it would all be Santa Claus. And multi-colored lights. And Snow men. Most likely some Coca-Cola themed Santas mixed in. With just a splash of White Trash. It would look like Christmas barfed ALL over my front lawn! No classy themes for this gal! (oooh- shiny!)
I was reading through MSN and stumbled across this Bump on Video, and it reminded me of the time that I lived in a haunted house (Which the hubs still disputes- but what the hell does he know?) for a year.
In July 2009 we lost our house. Not that we couldn’t find it, just that the bank decided to foreclose, even though we had filed all necessary paperwork, and five years later would be awarded a small cash settlement because they (the bank) are fucktards (pardon the language. This was not said to embarrass or humiliate fucktards by comparing them to the slimy, lower than a snakes-belly, greedy, money hungry asshole-banks). But, I digress. In the scant two weeks that we were given to vacate our home we were able to find a nice place close to our friends, our kids’ friends adjacent to our old neighborhood. The rent was affordable, it had a pool and because of time constraints, we jumped on it. The deposits were astronomical, but we had no choice at the time as the hubs was driving an over-the-road truck and he would not be able to be around much in that two weeks. Talk about high stress levels!
So we make the move, and everything went OK. Other than the stress of moving ten years of shit and losing the only home my kids could really remember calling their own. At first, for some reason I could just not get comfortable in the house. I am already a self-admitted dyed-in-the-wool-scaredy-cat of the dark, but anytime I was alone my heart would race, my skin would crawl and I would feel completely ridiculous about it, but was also convinced that someone was always watching me. This led me to start looking around for cameras, etc.- thinking that since this was a Rent by Owner type of place that the landlord was a creeper. (Yes, I admit it. I may have some trust issues. And I won’t say that I went up in the dark, filthy, creepy attic to confirm there were no video cameras- but I won’t say that I didn’t either.) Never found anything, so had to lay that theory to rest.
After a few weeks at the house, things started to settle down. I would only get that weird feeling when I was alone at night or the kids were already in bed, so I assumed that it was just residual nerves as I tend to have a slightly overactive imagination. Especially when fueled by late night cookies and wine (don’t judge. It’s rude!). Well one night, after tucking in my two kids, I pour myself a glass of wine, pop some popcorn and decide to watch a movie in my room since the hubs is on the road (Texas bound I believe). Back then we had three dogs, Hank who was about 14, Jake 6, and Griffin, 1 year old. Hank and Jake are German Short Hair Pointers and smart as the day is long. Griffin, my 1 year old boxer was a complete dufus and followed me everywhere. Especially if I had food. So as I am standing in the kitchen pouring deliciously melted Land O’Lakes butter onto my popcorn, Griffin starts to growl at the arcadia door to the backyard from the kitchen. This isn’t too uncommon as there were probably cats outside. Instead of him bolting out of the doggie door to chase them, he backed up to me, hair bristling and growled in the most menacing manner I had heard him behave. Now, I am nervous and convinced there is a psycho-serial murderer in my backyard. So, I slowly reach up to the light, flip it off and try to peer out the window into the dark to see if I see anything.
Of course there is nothing there. So I pet my dog, grab my wine and popcorn and head to the bedroom. The entire walk down the hallway Griffin is growling low in his throat and following me- walking backwards as if to protect me. I watch my movie and he settles down at the foot of the bed. Around eleven or so I decide that I need to take a shower as I am feeling a bit buzzed on the wine/popcorn dinner combo and a little sad as I am missing my honey. Now I always leave the bathroom door open while I shower if Jimmy (AKA the hubs) is not home. That way if the kids need me I can hear them, and the open door lets them know they can come in if they want.
I’m standing there in my towel checking the water temperature when I think I hear one of the kids calling me, so I shut the water off and head towards their rooms. Both kids are sound asleep in their own beds, so I figure it’s just that weird Mom imagination thing and head back in. Go through the routine again, take my hair down and step into the standing shower, pulling the shower curtain shut behind me. As I am lathering my hair up with shampoo, the shower curtain billows in and touches me. Which of course freaks me the hell out as my eyes were shut to protect them from the suds. Furiously swiping at the soap in my eyes I see the curtain billow in and out in a wave. Which is really odd because it is too damned hot to have any doors or windows open, and the air conditioner doesn’t work THAT good. While the shower curtain is doing its odd little dance, I feel goose bumps break out all along my skin, the hair on the back of my neck starts to stand on end, and as God is my witness I saw a 3-4 year old little girl in a little jumper dress standing there in my bathroom between me and the wafting shower curtain. She has curly black hair in pig tails, brown eyes and a dark blue dress on, dancing from foot to foot in her bare feet. I hear in my mind the whisper of “Mama”, but I don’t see her lips move. Then she smiles at me, a great big smile with a few missing teeth and darts out of the bathroom. At this point I am pretty sure I am going to drop dead of a heart attack, because I can’t breathe. My chest hurts from lack of oxygen, I am terrified that I am going to pass the fuck out in the shower, hit my head on the toilet and bleed to death on the tiles. While my mind is screaming “That did NOT just happen and that was NOT a real girl!”, becuase I could somewhat sense that she wasn’t all there. Not in a physical sense anyway. Stupified and freaked the fuck out or not, because she ran out of my bathroom into my room which then is next to my kids rooms, I had to force my feet from where they are rooted to the shower floor and run out-fully naked and dripping shampoo everywhere- to check on my babies. I see nothing. They are sound asleep, but Griffin is growling at the WALL between my room and the hallway with his hair all bristled up. (Because of that whispered word, I refuse to watch the movie “Mama”. FUCK YOU and NO effing way.)
Does it need to be said that I did not sleep at all that night? Does it matter at all that she seemed friendly? NO. Because all I could think of were all the fucking horror movies I had seen before. And in my mind’s instant replay loop when she smiled, her teeth were long bladed knives dripping with blackened blood of the last people that lived in that house (Thanks for that image Jennifer’s Body!).
I can’t say that I ever got the malicious vibe from her or the house, just more of an unsettled feeling.
I Googled the hell out of that address and never came up with any drownings or anything of the like. She never bothered the kids or Jimmy, but sometimes when I was sleeping, I would feel her staring at me…Just inches from my face. Something both of my kids did when they were that age.