Freaked Out

I am a grown man.

I am brave.

I do my best to ignore bumps in the night and a creaky old house.

I knew that when we moved in we would have some adjusting to do. The girls would likely hear things and make up stories. I was ready.

When they found an old photograph from right after the house was constructed, it was black and white and showed the father and mother sitting on the back porch, I dismissed it as something that was left behind.

When some of the doors move, I know it is a hinge that is misaligned from the foundation settlement.

When the girls created a Mrs Potatohead and dressed her in red and named her Lola which is also the name of the late matriarch of the house, I let it slide. Kids pick up on things. I don’t think they knew any names at that point but maybe they did.

When it sounds like someone is walking away from me when I go to the door at the carport, I could care less. Houses have their history and their owners. No need to get all excited about imagined ghosts and scary things.

But tonight… I must have had these thoughts hidden around the corners of my mind. They swirled and sat near the front while they waited for something to jump out and grab me. I needed a drink from the kitchen so I went through the living room where presents had been opened earlier in the day. When I rounded the corner of the living room and encountered the upper half of a torso rising out of the carpet, I nearly shit my pants. The wide dark eyes. The sparkling nails. The fact that something was emerging from my carpet and smiling at the same time. It all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to scream or warn my family. I just uttered an “uuggghh” while all my muscles locked into a ball of fear.

When I awoke a few seconds later I was face to face with the demon in the living room floor. I had one thought ringing in my head crystal-clear; Why did I buy this for Christmas and who the hell designed it.