HAP
Pumpkin carving, carmel apples, costume parties, tiny candy bars from strangers! It's Halloween!
Sadly, I'm not really in the Halloween spirit this year. This is entirely due to the fact that it isn't really celebrated in England. Only recently has it become common for small children to go trick-or-treating, and older kids onwards don't really recognize the holiday at all. I find this quite unfortunate, considering my history of prize-winning costumes at our annual campus ministry party.
P Y HALLOWEEN!!! Pumpkin carving, carmel apples, costume parties, tiny candy bars from strangers! It's Halloween!
Sadly, I'm not really in the Halloween spirit this year. This is entirely due to the fact that it isn't really celebrated in England. Only recently has it become common for small children to go trick-or-treating, and older kids onwards don't really recognize the holiday at all. I find this quite unfortunate, considering my history of prize-winning costumes at our annual campus ministry party.
As you can clearly see, my costume abilities are definitely slightly above average.
Halloween for me has never been about the scary side of things- you know, demons, witchcraft, razor blades in apples. I've always focused on the fun. Don't get me wrong, I love a good scary story or horror film. There's nothing like a long, sleepless night spent jumping at every sound, certain that at any moment Freddy Kruger is going to crawl out from your closet.
I tend to be a relatively brave (read: rational to a fault) person. I don't scare easily. With that said, I do have one legitimate, relatively irrational phobia: I am terrified that one day I will be home alone and someone will break into my house. As unlikely as this is to happen, it is still within the realm of possibility, hence the term "relatively irrational phobia".
Two years ago, I was a junior in college living in a house with a rotating cast of girls. I've referenced this house before in a previous post. The important thing to remember about the layout of the home is that the basement is not actually connected to the ground floor. You can only access it from outside. I lived in the basement unit with two other girls.
One night, after I'd gone to bed, my roommate Camille went upstairs to say goodnight to some of the other girls. On her way out, she hadn't closed the door all the way behind her. (This door had a habit of the latch not catching, causing it to pop back open.) When she came back, our neighbor's cat Sage was sitting by the open door. Camille patted Sage on the head, called her a good girl for not going inside the house, and walked into the stairwell.
My other roommate and I had already gone to sleep. All of the lights in the basement were off. With only the thin light from the single bare bulb in the carport filtering in through the front window, Camille started to walk down the stairs. She had just reached the bottom when, in the gloomy black pit that was our living room, a dark shaped moved.
Camille screamed. The dark shape ran across the room, hitting walls, leaping over furniture and crashing into things as it frantically raced around the small basement. Camille continued to scream.
At this point I was awake. And I was not happy. Camille and our other roommate Brie had a tendency to be loud, especially late at night. When I heard the screams in the kitchen, I assumed the two of them would be in there messing with one another. I dragged myself out of bed, turned on my light and threw open my door, ready to tell them off for waking me up. Instead, I saw Camille standing on top of the kitchen counter. She looked up at me and hissed, "Something is in our house."
In my delirious, half-asleep state, my mind came to two conclusions: 1. My worst nightmare had finally become a reality and I was now the victim of a home invasion, and 2. This invader was a dwarf. That's the only logical explanation for why Camille would be on the countertop.
Nope. I promptly stepped back into my room and slammed my door shut, leaving Camille to the mercy of the gods. Ain't no way I wanted any part of that nonsense. A moment later I heard a furious pounding of footsteps up the stairs, followed by a voice shouting down, "It's gone!"
I cracked open my door. Camille was climbing down from the counter and Brie was descending the stairs. Somebody had turned the lights on. It was soon revealed that, although Sage had not wandered down into our basement, some random other cat had. That other cat also happened to be black. When Camille came down the stairs, it panicked and started looking for an escape route. Not being able to discern that the dark object was just a stray cat, Camille just helplessly screamed in horror as the frightened animal grew increasingly terrified. Brie heard the screaming and came to investigate. When she opened our front door, the cat made a beeline for the square of light pouring in through the doorway and sprinted outside and off into the night.
As you can probably imagine, I am more relieved than I can say that our visitor was not a murderous dwarf. Although Brie and Camille will never let me live down the fact that I abandoned her without a moment's hesitation. But hey, if knife-wielding little people are on the table, all bets are off. There are some things that nobody should have to face.
Halloween for me has never been about the scary side of things- you know, demons, witchcraft, razor blades in apples. I've always focused on the fun. Don't get me wrong, I love a good scary story or horror film. There's nothing like a long, sleepless night spent jumping at every sound, certain that at any moment Freddy Kruger is going to crawl out from your closet.
I tend to be a relatively brave (read: rational to a fault) person. I don't scare easily. With that said, I do have one legitimate, relatively irrational phobia: I am terrified that one day I will be home alone and someone will break into my house. As unlikely as this is to happen, it is still within the realm of possibility, hence the term "relatively irrational phobia".
Two years ago, I was a junior in college living in a house with a rotating cast of girls. I've referenced this house before in a previous post. The important thing to remember about the layout of the home is that the basement is not actually connected to the ground floor. You can only access it from outside. I lived in the basement unit with two other girls.
One night, after I'd gone to bed, my roommate Camille went upstairs to say goodnight to some of the other girls. On her way out, she hadn't closed the door all the way behind her. (This door had a habit of the latch not catching, causing it to pop back open.) When she came back, our neighbor's cat Sage was sitting by the open door. Camille patted Sage on the head, called her a good girl for not going inside the house, and walked into the stairwell.
My other roommate and I had already gone to sleep. All of the lights in the basement were off. With only the thin light from the single bare bulb in the carport filtering in through the front window, Camille started to walk down the stairs. She had just reached the bottom when, in the gloomy black pit that was our living room, a dark shaped moved.
Camille screamed. The dark shape ran across the room, hitting walls, leaping over furniture and crashing into things as it frantically raced around the small basement. Camille continued to scream.
At this point I was awake. And I was not happy. Camille and our other roommate Brie had a tendency to be loud, especially late at night. When I heard the screams in the kitchen, I assumed the two of them would be in there messing with one another. I dragged myself out of bed, turned on my light and threw open my door, ready to tell them off for waking me up. Instead, I saw Camille standing on top of the kitchen counter. She looked up at me and hissed, "Something is in our house."
In my delirious, half-asleep state, my mind came to two conclusions: 1. My worst nightmare had finally become a reality and I was now the victim of a home invasion, and 2. This invader was a dwarf. That's the only logical explanation for why Camille would be on the countertop.
Nope. I promptly stepped back into my room and slammed my door shut, leaving Camille to the mercy of the gods. Ain't no way I wanted any part of that nonsense. A moment later I heard a furious pounding of footsteps up the stairs, followed by a voice shouting down, "It's gone!"
I cracked open my door. Camille was climbing down from the counter and Brie was descending the stairs. Somebody had turned the lights on. It was soon revealed that, although Sage had not wandered down into our basement, some random other cat had. That other cat also happened to be black. When Camille came down the stairs, it panicked and started looking for an escape route. Not being able to discern that the dark object was just a stray cat, Camille just helplessly screamed in horror as the frightened animal grew increasingly terrified. Brie heard the screaming and came to investigate. When she opened our front door, the cat made a beeline for the square of light pouring in through the doorway and sprinted outside and off into the night.
As you can probably imagine, I am more relieved than I can say that our visitor was not a murderous dwarf. Although Brie and Camille will never let me live down the fact that I abandoned her without a moment's hesitation. But hey, if knife-wielding little people are on the table, all bets are off. There are some things that nobody should have to face.