Tag Archives: scary

Bedtime Stories: Chapter 1

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Every night before going to bed my children ask me to read them a book. Sometimes it’s “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, sometimes it’s “Curious George”, sometimes it’s “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”, but as of late I’ve become bored with reading and reading and reading the same stories over and over and over again and so I’ve decided to write new stories for them.  We gather on their bed or on the couch and I say, “What is tonight’s story about?” and they give a simple suggestion… and so it begins…

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I’m sitting on my couch, my oldest daughter on my left and my son on my right.  Both of them are curled up in their favorite blankies, both of them staring at me with wide eyes and big smiles.  I say, “Once Upon a Time… there was a Little Boy and a Little Girl and they were brother and sister.  And one day, they were walking along a street when they noticed that they were passing a very old house that nobody lived in.  Nobody lived there.  It was completely empty–

(Sometimes you have to hammer a point home because they’re so young).

–but, even though it was completely and totally empty and no one lived there, they heard….” and this is where I look at them because they help me tell the story.  It’s kind of like a choose your own adventure for them that I make up as I go.

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I look at Quinn and I say, “What did they hear?” and she whispers, “I don’t know…” and so I look at Rory and I say, “What did they hear?” and he says, “They hear a ghost… and a ghost says, “ooooooo-oooo-ooooOOOO!“” and I say, “Actually, what they heard was………..RAAAAR!!” AND I SHOUT AND LUNGE TOWARDS QUINN AND SHE SHOVES HERSELF BACK INTO THE COUCH AND PULLS THE BLANKET UP OVER HER HEAD AND SAYS, “Don’t do that!  You scared me!”

“And so the Little Boy and the Little Girl were afraid and so they ran home to their Mommy and Daddy… but the next day they were walking past the house again and…. what did they hear?” and Rory says, “A ghost!  And a ghost says, “ooooo-ooooo-ooooOOOO!” and I say, “RAAAAR!” and I lunge at Rory and he drops his blanket to the floor and his eyes well up a little and he says, “You scared me, Daddy,” and then his little bottom lip begins to quiver and I feel pretty bad…

I continue, “So the Little Boy and the Little Girl were scared and so they ran home to their Mommy and Daddy but the next day they were walking past the empty house again and what did they hear?” and Rory says, “They… heard…. ghosts….. and a ghost says, “Ooooo-ooo-oooOOO!” and I say, “They heard a noise that sounded like this, “Ooooo-ooo-oooOOOOO!” and the Little Boy and the Little Girl turned towards the empty, abandoned house and they started walking up the sidewalk, towards the front door.  Click-clack-click-clack went their feet up the sidewalk and reeeeeee-reeeeeee went the squeaky front steps and then knock-knock-knock went their tiny little fists on the door and then eeeeeeeeeeeee went the door as it swung open and inside the house… what did they see?

And Rory, in fully obsessed form says, “A GHOST!” and I say, “They saw a white sheet floating in the middle of the room… and then another… and then another… and then another and then do you know how many ghosts they saw?” and Quinn says, “Eight” but my story was much bigger than that so I bent her choice a little with my own and I say, “100.  They saw 100 ghosts floating around and dancing because they were having a Ghost Party.”

It’s at this point that I make a beat that sounds like a cross between ghost noises and dub-step music just to add to the general ambience.

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And then–

RAAAR!” I SHOUT and both kids jump and Quinn covers her face and Rory says, “What is it?!” and I say, “It’s a monster and it’s coming down the stairs!  It’s coming to the ghost party!” and then in my scratchy monster voice I say, “I’m a monster that lives upstairs and everyone is afraid of me because of the way I talk and RAAAAR – I’m just so alone and lonely and I don’t have any friends.  There’s a party happening down here in my own house and no one invited me and now my feelings are hurt.”

And then I turn to Rory, stare him in the eyes and say, “Will you be my friend, Little Boy?” and Rory say, “I will be your friend.  Yes, I will be your friend, Monster,” and I say, “That is very nice.  Can I have a hug?” and then Rory comes in close and hugs me and says, “I love this Monster,” and I say, “I love you too, Little Boy.”

I turn to my daughter and I say, “Little Girl, will you be my friend?” and Quinn stares me dead in the eyes and says, “No.  No, I don’t want to be your friend,” but Rory quickly interjects and says, “Be our friend!  Be friends with us!” but Quinn holds her ground, “No… I don’t want to…”

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And the story continues, “So the Little Girl left the house and she shut the squeaky door behind her and she stepped down the wooden steps and she walked down the sidewalk and she went all the way back home to her Mommy and Daddy and–”

“But… where is the Little Boy?” asks Quinn.

“Oh, he stayed in the house with the monster and became the one hundred and first ghost of the party.”

The children both look at me and so I say, “The… End.”

Rory says, “That Ghost Party is fun,” and Quinn says, “Does the Little Girl see her brother again?” and I say, “No.  He stayed in the house to play with the monster and he never came out,” and Quinn asks, “Does the Little Girl see her Mommy and Daddy again?” and I say, “Yes.  She goes home and she lives with them for a very long time,” and then Quinn says, “What do her Mommy and Daddy do?” and I say, “They just work regular nine to five jobs,” and Quinn says, “Oh.  Ok.”

 

The End.

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KID COUNTDOWN: DAY 4

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When you have children, two things will drastically change forever.  The first is, obviously and, in a broad sweeping movement, your life.  You will forever feel as though part of your heart has been trapped outside of your body and is meandering around the world alone and you’re just trying to do everything in your meager power to protect it from all of the dark and nasty stuff that’s out there.

The second thing that will forever change is your dreams.  And I don’t mean this in that goal oriented I want to own a house and be mayor of a small rural town sort of way.  I mean it in the Nightly Subconscious Sleepy Time way.

Goodbye Dreams About Being Buried Alive And Falling From The Sky And Being Chased By Beasts Who’s Description Escapes You In The Waking Hours Except For The Words, “It was so real… It was just… horrible… and so real.”  Hello Dreams About  Your Children Teetering On The Brink Of Death Just Out Of Your Reach And Ability.

It is a regular occurrence for me – a regular occurrence – that I dream of my children playing on railroad tracks that I can’t reach, a train barreling towards them, or the two of them crossing a bridge far above a violent  river that begs to swallow them up, me knowing that they’re there but having no idea where the actual location is.

Last night I dreamt that I had enlisted in the military (the first red flag that should have alerted me that this was nothing more than a nocturnal movie) and was stationed on a base that was built right on the ocean.  A large interconnected system of excessively swervy roads allowed you to navigate the premises but the edges weren’t guarded and you were constantly in danger of sliding off the side.  Perhaps you’ve driven on tall mountain roads that presented a similar danger.  The concrete was always wet from the constant onslaught of waves and spray and the roads curved in nonsensical U-Turns as though Dr. Seuss had designed the base’s layout plan.

In my dream I was an even worse driver than in real life and my brakes never seemed to work.  The U-Turn would approach fast and I could never slow down enough to make the hard cut and… over the edge I would plummet, into the cold waters below, screaming and bracing myself for impact, over and over again.  It never got easier.

I swim to the shore, make my way to my barracks and deal with this very strange human drama that is going on.  I believe somebody had stolen something and then there was a kind of murder and it was being blamed on me even though I hadn’t had anything to do with it… or maybe I did… it was that fuzzy dream logic that didn’t matter.  As of this point in the dream, I’m sure most of these details are stemming from my dad currently being stationed in Afghanistan (military base) and me worrying about someone breaking into our house and then writing – yesterday – about having to attack them with a knife (the murder).  Where the water motif is coming from, I have no idea, although I do have a fear of open water that I don’t often talk about.

I leave my barracks and begin walking down one of the long pedestrian bridges when I hear a familiar scream.  My daughter is crying and I can hear water splashing and my stomach drops and I start running, my feet sloshing through small puddles.  For whatever reason, someone has placed various cargo boxes along the path that I’m forced to climb over – there’s always something blocking my way!! – and when I finally reach the edge of the bridge, I hear Rory crying far to my left and I see Quinn floating face down and not making a sound.

Which one do I choose?  My dream has forced me into a horrible corner and makes me decide.

The moon is casting a blue glow over the scene and I’m having difficulty making out anything further than a few feet away.  I know I can physically see Quinn and I can physically see that she isn’t moving.  I can still hear Rory, although I have no idea how close (or far away) he is.  I leap into the cold, rippling water, submerging myself into darkness, grab Quinn, flip her onto her back and paddle relentlessly back towards the bridge which, of course, has no kind of ladder or steps to clamber back up, but rather a slippery and mossy side that I can’t seem to find footing on.

I hold my breath and kick my feet as hard as I can, lifting my duaghter into the air and lay her on the surface before turning my attention to Rory and scrambling after him.  I see his head bobbing above the water and then dropping back down.  I dive under, find him, embrace him and begin to pull him towards the side but he fights me, not wanting to be held or constrained or helped.  He’s scared and he’s screaming and pushing against me, shoving his hands into my face and his feet into my stomach and I keep thinking I’m going to lose my grip on him (forever) and he’s going to slowly just sink to the bottom of the ocean.  MY SON!  His face goes underwater and I try to lift him up higher.

Finally at the side I somehow (somehow??  More dream logic) manage to pull him onto the bridge along with myself where I find Quinn lying, totally still but awake.  Awake and alive.  I put them both in the car (where’d that come from?) and begin to drive the three of us back to the barracks, doing my best to keep them safe but… the road is too slippery and my breaks aren’t working properly and the turns are too sharp and I’m going over the side again, both of my children strapped into car seats.  GOD HELP ME!!!

And I wake up.

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KID COUNTDOWN: DAY 5

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Jade comes outside carrying four bowls, each filled with two macadamia nut cookies topped with chocolate chip ice cream, and distributes them evenly amongst us; two adults and two children.  The gentle glow of a fairly pathetic fire lights our faces and my wife says, “Rory, did you help Daddy start the fire?” and Rory stares at the flames and says, “Uh……. no,” and so Jade says, “Did Daddy start this fire all by himself?” and I say, “Uh……. no.  I had the assistance of a chemically soaked and scientifically engineered fire log.”

For all of my “camping knowledge”, I swear to you here and now that I would die in the woods, freezing to death far before starvation ever had its chance at me.  I would die with plenty of fat on my bones and a book of matches in my hand.  I’m fairly confident in my arsonistic abilities in regards to crusty leaves and old Kleenex but a log?  Where’s the lighter fluid?

The children finish their ice cream first and Rory says, “MORE!” and Jade says, “No.  That’s all.  It’s all gone.”  Rory says, “All gone?” and stares into the fire for moment.  He looks back up at my wife and says, “Two more cookies inside,” and I look at Jade and she says, “He’s very astute…”

The children stand up and jump on their tricycles and peddle around in the dark for a few minutes before my cruel urges begin to rise up inside of me.  Ever since I was a child, I’ve loved to scare people.  I’d hide in the dark basement and wait for my mother to come down to do laundry or I’d moan through the vents to send my younger sister into a frenzied panic.  Once I put a full sized mannequin (with arms) in my brother-in-laws room and then watched from a distance as he entered in the pitch black.  I’ve never heard a grown man scream like that.

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ABOVE: RORY WORKING ON HIS “WAIT & LUNGE” MANEUVER.

The kids circle and circle and circle the backyard and, just as they disappear behind the table, I leap from my chair and hide behind a piece of wood and… as Rory emerges first from the other side, I crawl out on my hands and knees and say, “YARRRR!” and he jumps and jolts sideways and slams on his brakes and then starts laughing and says, “You scared me, Dad!  Hahaha!  You scared me!” and so, feeling left out, Quinn shouts, “Scare me too, Dad!  Scare me too!” and I say, “Oh… I will… but it will be when you least expect it, Little One…” and they circle and circle and circle and I see my opportunity and it all plays out the exact same but, when I crawl out and yell, “YARRRR!” Quinn just stares at me, nonplussed.

This simply will not do.

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ABOVE: QUINN PRACTICING HER “POUNCE AND HOWL” STANCE.  GREAT FORM.

I crawl back to my chair and stair at the fire and wait… luring her into a false sense of security.  Around and around and around… a few more passes… yes… now is The Time.

I sneak from my chair and hide behind the plank and squat down.  I pull my cardigan up over my head so only my mouth and teeth are exposed… and I wait…

Before long she innocently weaves around the corner and, instead of crawling, I lunge out and, instead of shouting, “YARRR!“, I make a noise that sounds like a hog giving birth (C-section, no pain meds) and I gnash my teeth and shake my tongue and she swerves and jumps and look me right in the mouth and says, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

It is The Scream that would have been worthy of the Psycho shower scene.  Her eyes go wide and her jaw drops open and her wail pierces the night.  I pull my hood down and say, “I scared you!” and I laugh and she says, “YOU SCARED ME, DAD!” and I say, “Ask and you shall receive,” before I sit back down to finish my ice cream.

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ABOVE: RORY DEMONSTRATING “DEMENTED MANIAC” WHILE QUINN DISPLAYS “EMOTIONLESS MONSTER”.

The moon rises higher in the sky and the children both yawn and we put them to bed, say their prayers, say goodnight and shut the door before heading back outside to chat the early evening away.  Jade brings out the remaining cookies and we split them and talk about how observant The Boy is.  We play a couple rounds of Words with Friends on our phones and we listen to light jazz by Miles Davis.  She tells me about a parenting book she’s reading and I tell her about a phrase I heard that went something like, “Those who chase security will never find freedom and those who find security have only found purgatory.”

An hour or two passes and the fire dies and I spray the embers with a hose and go inside where I find Jade standing in the kitchen, totally still, a look of panic on her face.  I say, “What?  The baby?” and she says, “No,” and then I hear it too.  There are footsteps in our house.  I reach into my pocket and pull out my knife, snapping it open with a shink and wondering if I have what it takes to stab somebody.  Do I go for their neck?  Guts?  Shoulder?  I’ve always imagined stabbing somebody very apologetically like, “You broke into my house and now I have to defend myself and I’m very sorry because this might hurt just a little bit.  Okay?  Are you alright?  I’m probably going to stab one more time!”

Jade slides open the kitchen drawer and pulls out a butcher knife as tall as she is and I suddenly have blade envy, staring down at my little razor.  It’s not the size, it’s how you use it, I think to myself, pokey-pokey, and then the two of us slowly separate (classic horror movie move!  What were we thinking!?)  She goes around into the living room and I head for the hallway.  I hear the light tap, tap, tap of her feet on the hardwood as I open our kitchen door as slowly as possible, bracing myself for some long-haired drug addled intruder to burst out of the darkness and try to bite me (in my imaginings, most intruders have long hair and try to bite).

I step into the hall just as Jade steps into the other end (our house is designed in a large loop) and we both shrug.  She turns to the bedroom and I turn to the bathroom and then we hear it again.  Footsteps.  In the kid’s room.

In… the kid’s room.

I gently swing open the door and find Quinn marching around, pulling her blanket – she sees me, lays down on the hard wood and pulls her stuffed quilt over her head.

I say, “Go to sleep, Little Lady,” and I shut the door thinking, “You SCARED me, Quinn.”

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ABOVE: A HORRIFIC PHOTO OF A DOLL TAKING A BATH.  GOODBYE, DIRT.  HELLO, NIGHTMARES.

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