I’m convinced my place is haunted. No real big deal there and I don’t mean to sound all cavalier and cool about it but no big deal there. Most places where I have taken up residence for more than a few months comes around to being haunted. Usually it is just bump in the night kind of stuff, but I’m sure it is only a matter of time until I finally catch one of the little buggers in the other room nibbling on a doughnut.
Oh, how badly I miss my cat. Klick Klack Kitty Cat feared nothing, except lightning and loud noises. In fact, Klick Klack would get ornery an hour before a storm, giving that glaring “if you don’t do something I am not going to be happy” look I knew only too well. But it took only one nearby lightning strike and an explosion of thunder and that cat disappeared like a genie in a bottle. I never figured out where she went…or how she got there, literally in a flash. (I really believe she disappeared, angry and disappointed. And don’t we all have a little taste of that in our life?)
Other than that, Klick Klack Kitty Cat backed down to nothing.
Cats, being supernatural beings, offer special guidance in things spooked, haunted, and unexplained I always felt a little comfort having Klick Klack Kitty Cat nearby at night.
A stalwart negotiator, that cat, she simply stood her ground until she got her way. Tonight, alas, Klick Klack chases birds in Paradise, having crossed over to the other side — permanently this time a few years ago — and I am left behind to look after myself.
I’m especially tuned into the hauntings tonight because I wrecked my headphones, or at least the wire connecting the phones to a jack that gets plugged into my sound-making device. The headphones were shorting out and I thought the best thing I could do was to pull apart some wires so I could get a look at the problem. That’s when I remembered — too late — that modern gadgets aren’t designed to be repaired. They’re designed to be replaced. Now mine needs to be replaced. A new cable plug in thing probably will cost me twelve bucks…
Ok, wait…Bring it back. What the hell was I talking about? The hauntings. Focus on the hauntings. Yes, I know headphones and all of this make little sense together, but hauntings don’t make much sense either. Read on.
So as I was saying — or at least trying to say until I got distracted — an hour doesn’t go by without a boom or a crack or the sound of spilling glass pouring from an empty corner of the house. Remaining focused is a challenge. And I am getting jumpy.
And outside — oh, outside, what a scary place that is — thousands of sleepless birds — gulls, probably — gather in large rafts, bacchanal style, on the lake and really put an eerie, doom-is-looming touch to things. Really quite creepy, especially when I think I hear something rummaging through my saltines.
No, no rodents. No signs of them. And I don’t expect it. I really suspect that what I have here are little buggers. You know, a clan of hobbits or maybe an incubus or two. I’d prefer a sprite — what was Tinkerbell? — but I think I have buggers.
A teacher once scolded me, telling me “bugger” wasn’t a nice thing to say. So I had to look it up. (He was right.)
You know…no rodents, noises in the kitchen, invisible things falling in the night…could it be Klick Klack Kitty Cat, that furry prankster, visiting from the other side having a little fun? Probably payback for the family Christmas pictures I took each year…
One of these nights — I know it is going to happen because I am taunting them (they must read my blog) — a shimmering milky plasma will call my name from the other room and then it is game over. I’ll shiver like a school girl, teeth clattering under my sheets, and pray for an early dawn.
Hell, that sounds a lot like last night!
You know, I once knew a woman in Arizona. She told me she had an aunt named Perdition. I wonder if that was true. Perdita I could accept. Perdition seems like a cruelty. But families get big in Arizona, especially Mesa. Sooner or later someone will insist only Perdition could be suitable.
I knew another woman once. She should have been named Hell on Fire, but she wasn’t. Or Chop Sissy. I like Chop Sissy. It fits somehow, but Hell on Fire isn’t far from the mark certainly.
How much time do I have left? Not much. And I do appreciate you staying with me this long. (You must value your time poorly.) So now as the sands run thin and the night turns past the midnight hour, let’s complete the lead.
Because my house is haunted, I plan to have an old Scottish poem drawn in some suitable manner so I can frame it and place it on a wall in my bedroom. And here it is:
From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night
Good Lord, deliver us!
Isn’t that delightful? It is a must have for me and I think I know just the guy to draw it up for me, too. My friend Scott Seekins is that guy. Something dark, moody, with a touch of Gothic or Victorian…hmm, what to call it?…let’s call it dark innocence.
Damn, did you hear that? Something just crashed in the other room! Probably just a pad of paper blown off the table. Or maybe a ghost. Good Lord, deliver us! Or deliver me, at least.
- Ghosts and Haunted Houses (halloweenexpress.com)
- Words In: Every House is Haunted by Ian Rogers (griffinwords.wordpress.com)
- Spooky Night (writerscafe.org)