Saturday, March 5, 2016

The Witching Hour

In the wee hours of the morning, Anne crawled into my bed. Just as I was falling back asleep, I heard her say something. She had to repeat it 4 or 5 times before it broke through my sleepy haze, “Mom, I keep seeing black things walking into the bedroom.” That got my attention. I sat up and saw nothing. So I just cuddled her tight and told her to go back to sleep.
Anne covered her head with the blanket and tried to go back to sleep until it got too hot and she popped her head back out. She looked into the hallway again, “Mom, I’m a little scared. See, she just turned her head to look at me. Did you see? She’s by the desk in the office.” Assigning a gender to the previously shapeless blob made it a little eerier for me and I was starting to get a little nervous. I sat up and searched where she was looking for anything, any shadow, any piece of furniture that could possibly be construed as human-like so I could logically and rationally explain what she was seeing. I came up blank. I decided to get up and turn on the light. As I started to climb out of bed, Anne’s arm shot across me protectively, “No, mom. I want to go with you. I don’t think you should go alone.”
Now I was officially freaked out so I closed the bedroom door. Out of sight, out of mind. That worked until this morning. The alarm went off and first thing Anne asked, “Mom. how can we sneak past the witch to get downstairs?” I flipped on the office light and Anne started laughing. “Oh. I’m so silly. It was just a shadow. I thought this screen was a hand but it’s not.” 

I may never walk into my office again. 

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