Poltergeist
Alone in the house reading my favorite book, The Stand. The Fam went out to the store but I decided to stay behind. I was comfy in my boxers and haven’t really gotten out of bed yet. And why not, It’s summer break after all. There’s no reason I need to wake up early, not for at least 2 months. 2 glorious months of staying up late and sleeping in.
We live in a rancher, that bi level style kinda house that everyone lives in. It’s a bit old but my dad is updating it little by little. We got it cheap a few years ago, and not too much is known about the previous owners. But the property is perfect. We have a huge back yard surrounded by woods, neighbors a generous distance from us. Which is a great difference from living in New York city. We have privacy and quiet. I’ll never go back to living in that hellish city, but to be honest I do miss it.
And my room, Man! Yo I love my room setup, I’m telling you. I have my weights, saxophone, video games, tv, and bookshelf right above the bed, I’m set Bro I’m set. The bed is right next to the window so I can fall asleep to thunderstorms. The thunderous roar out here unlike the city, brilliant explosions of radiant light perfectly timed. And the most memorizing part of all. Billions…. BILLIONS of raindrops hitting every surface for miles around. A display of musically grandeur only God can create and we as humans can hope to imitate. Seriously there’s no better sleep than that. And right now I’m just enjoying this nice summer breeze coming through the window.
WACK ! The old window slams closed with malice causing me to drop the book and lose the page I was currently reading.
“ Yo what the hell these windows are way hard move for it to just fall for now reason” I say annoyed
WACK WACK WACK The window opened and closed furiously. Each slam is timed rhythmically. As if something was trying to knock on a door, but really, it’s more like something trying to hit the emergency evacuation button of my bowels with a jump scare. And I focus on this, like really focus on this, because the rhythm stays consistent for a while. Which for some reason, I find FAR, more fascinating than scary.
“Huh.. ok well … huh ,, ummm…. You know that’s …….”
WACK WACK WACK The bedroom door slamming with the same rhythmic malice, perfectly in sync with the possessed window.
“ huhhhh” i let out a deep sigh. Slowly reaching for my book, not taking my eyes off the door.
“Alright I’m 13 now, 12 I would have been scared but teenage me is just annoyed.” I say trying to be brave.
“ Oooohhh your spooky ghost and you wanna show off your new tricks. Cool story bro, but this isn’t scary. Like I’m trying to read here, what are you even doing, seriously that’s just rude.”
WACK ! WACK ! WACK ! The malice turns to rage as the ferocity grows immensely. My legs start to shake realizing my words only pissed this ghost off (if it is a ghost) even more. Trying my best to ignore the apparition’s unyielding temper tantrum but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult. The words on the page now dance to the ballet of wooden instruments, all percussion. Thanks to my hands feeling left out and wanting to join the lower appendages.
You don’t quite realize just how small a room is until you’re trapped inside. Only a few feet away from a Whomping Willow door. I just don’t know if it’s the trapped feeling or my smart ass remark making things worse. But…… my heart is pounding, the fear is showing and I don’t know how much longer until it comes for me.
“Wait” I chuckle with relief
“ That’s what you want, my fear, you keep trying to scare me. Yet haven’t actually done anything to try and hurt me.” I laugh again arrogantly, stupidly. A short burst of self confidence pushes all the fear away.
WACK ! The window and door both slam shut. Looking at the room finally back to normal I take a sigh of relief without showing it, now knowing what it wants. I try to resume reading but is interrupted by the door slowly, loudly squeaking open. My door doesn’t even squeak WTF. This time it does because of this ghost playing games. My grip loosens again, as the book finds itself falling away from my petrified fingers, again. The door deliberately inching open for torturous intent, and every inch it moves my heart pounds harder. I can feel medusa’s gaze holding full power over me now. Fear takes over as I’m unable to move, waiting in horror for what’s to happen next. Just as the door fully opens my whole house explodes. Every door, window , cabinet, faucet, chair, everything, every single thing is moving in the house all at once like a battlefield.
Fight or Flight fully takes over and I start running for my life. The bedroom door stays still allowing me to flee into the full poltergeist nightmare it has created just for me. I turn right , running down the hall. Just catching a glimpse into my parents bedroom to see every object come to life. The smaller objects floating as if they were debris caught in a tide. Beautifully terrifying is the only way to describe it. I continue down the hall b-lining it straight for the living room couch. It seems to be the only object not moving. Lunging on the couch as if it was home base and quickly observing my surroundings.
I witnessed a sight not many have. A poltergeist, a fucking poltergeist straight out of the movies. This apparition is a conductor, writing a symphony of fear using my house as its orchestra and me as the audience. Time stands still long enough to take this moment in, all of it in. This mere blink of an eye might as well have been 2 hours long. I can only sit frozen without a single breath leaving my lips. Only my eyes are able to move freely, frantically ricocheting around like pinballs following every object simultaneously. And just like that everything drops, all the doors close. The house is dead silent for just a second, then my bedroom door slowly starts to creek open. That same loud creek that never existed before.
A dreadful feeling hits me with the destructive power of a tsunami leveling a city in its wake. In an instance drowning every inch of my body. Yet there’s a voice from deep inside too stubborn to accept this any longer and it’s screaming. RUN FUCKING RUN!! I don’t even let the door get a quarter of the way open before darting across the living room. Lunging over the railing, clearing it with focused intention like an olympic hurdler to the entrance landing. As both the screen and front door open for me. I don’t stop running until I reach the bottom of the hill. Turning around to watch the house and make sure I’m safe standing on the side of the road. I can still see everything in the house floating. Doors, windows, cabinets opening and closing.
I can’t help but wonder what was going to happen if I let that door open all the way. Watching the door creep open was the scariest part of everything. In that moment I could feel the hatred, the violence “It” wanted to commit. I was going to die, I knew I was going to die if that door opened all the way.
So I’ll wait and wait until my parents come home while standing on the side of the road. In my boxers I don’t care, I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going a step closer to that house.
And I did, for 3 hours for my family to come home. That was my first introduction to the fellow hostile resident I lived with for 20 years.