Friday, October 15, 2010

My Scary Story

by Laurissa

This month our theme here at the Working Stiffs is scary or spooky stories. Well the story that I’m going to tell you is a true one, and it happened to me. It was Halloween, and my family had just moved into our house that summer before the start of the new school year. I was fifteen, too old to trick-or-treat, but wanted to do something that made the day feel like Halloween. I had been feeling a bit down that fall and a little like a fish out of water as I was, once again, the new girl at school. At least that’s how I recall it, so I asked my parents if I could pass out the candy. Looking back on that night, I don’t remember where my sisters and brother were. However, I knew that my mother was somewhere in the house as was my father.

Of course back in the seventies, trick-or-treating didn’t occur during daylight hours, but when it was actually dark. We didn’t have many trick-or-treaters that night and I remember feeling disappointed. That was when I noticed a lone trick-or-treater coming up over the slight hill and across our front yard. I felt warning signs go off as I noticed that this wasn’t a small child but definitely a larger child, maybe a teenager, walking on his knees wearing a black ski mask and what appeared to be some sort of a military fatigue jacket. The details becoming clearer as he or she came closer to the glow from the front porch light.

I tried to calm myself by saying that this was a teenager, like me, wanting to eek the last little bit possible out of the holiday, and was trying to appear as a child in order to still get candy, but my heart was still racing. Since we were new to the area, I didn’t have any idea whether or not this was someone from the neighborhood.

I didn’t want to insult this person by closing the door, as he or she had already seen me standing there, although my better instincts were screaming to “SHUT THE DOOR!” Instead I just stood there as they crawled up on the front porch, still on their knees. When he said “trick or treat” in a distinctly deep adult male voice, and held his bag out, I noticed that these were not the hands of a teenager holding the bag, but of a man. My heart pounded into overdrive. It was pounding so loudly that I could hardly hear myself think. I took a very shaky handful of candy and I tried to form the thought that I would hurriedly drop it in his bag so that he would soon leave. All the while, I was thinking don’t let him see that you’re afraid.

As soon as I held the candy out to his bag, he lunged forward, grabbed my hand and wouldn’t let go. I wrenched my hand out of his grasp and ran away from the front door back through the house headed towards the back door. I couldn’t scream. All that I could do was, to run. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. He was now up off of his knees, as I heard his footsteps pounding after mine and his breathing muffled from the ski mask. I remember glimpsing my mother, as I ran by, sitting on the couch in the family room, putting her hair up in rollers with the TV on and a book or magazine in her lap. I remember this so clearly and my not being able to scream or say anything, I was so afraid; I was running for my life. He was after-- me.

I burst out the back door onto the driveway, letting the storm door slam shut, running to who knows where. The back storm door then immediately slammed a second time as he followed. It was then that I distantly  heard my father laughing and hollering at me to stop running, and I turned to see my dad holding a ski mask wearing a previously unseen fatigue jacket.

And people think that the parents of teenagers have it rough! :-)

6 comments:

Gina said...

Yikes! Your father was one lucky dude - you could have been studying self-defense and used it!

Martha Reed said...

Laurie, you made my hair stand on end! What a set up for a story.

My dad did something similar to us during a sleepover. He crept outside and scratched against the window and just when I had everyone convinced it was a stick he put his face against the screen. My mother was furious because then she got to deal with four screaming and hysterical little girls!

Great story! What a treat to start my day. thanks!

Annette said...

Great story, Laurie! Your dad sounds like quite the character!

Laurie said...

Gina, Martha, and Annette, thanks for your comments.
Martha, I can only imagine the hysteria that your father caused at that sleepover! :-)

Joyce said...

I hope you got back at him at some point.

Great story!

Laurie said...

Joyce, you reminded me that I never did get him back for that! And now, 34 years later, I have the element of surprise on my side!lol