The other day I went to the grocery store, packed everything in the back and latched Tiny-Small into her car seat. Off we went. Then, I heard this creepy thumping. Like a dead body was rolling around in my car. I thought my car was haunted.
I guess I jumped to that conclusion because Jim was completely convinced our old house was haunted and due to some recent weird experiences, I have had haunting on the brain. I usually tend to be the skeptic in the family so the whole haunting thing is still up in the air for me, but Jim did have some compelling evidence about our old house. One time, in the old house, the back door kept opening and closing by itself. It was like someone else was letting the dogs in and out. They loved it. I thought it was creepy to come into the room and see the door wide open and watch it close as the last dog ran out into the backyard. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, we would hear music playing. Old-timey music. That was strange too. Jim claims someone slapped him on the butt once when he got out of the shower. I don’t know about that one, I kind of chalk that experience up to wishful thinking. We did have some random words that would show up in the shower steamed mirror though, no matter how many times I washed it. I used to hope, if we did have a ghost, that she would like to wash dishes and fold laundry. Oh yeah, we referred to her as a “her” because Jim claimed she called on the phone once and whispered her name to him. I don’t know about that one either, but who am I to contradict someone? I wasn’t there when it happened. Jim might have been just pulling my leg too. Still, I can’t help thinking that having a ghost who likes to clean things would be like hitting the ghost jackpot. It would be like winning some sort of cosmic lottery. I still fantasize about a cleaning ghost to this very day. I know that kind of haunted house is probably too good to be true, but still, a girl can dream, right?.
The truth is, that old house just had a yucky, depressing feeling about it. It was dark. If a house was going to be haunted, it would be that one. I wasn’t a fan. My husband had bought it before we were married. I secretly couldn’t wait to sell it and move out. There was something unsettling about it. I would sometimes have the feeling I was being watched while I was sitting on the couch in the living room, but who knows, it may have all been my overactive imagination. Except, even now, when I drive past it, the dark windows give me an uncomfortable feeling. I really disliked that house. The new owners have painted it a dark muddled, purple so now it looks even creepier than it did before. We take bets on how many years it takes before the new owners put a for sale sign on the lawn.
That’s why I was so happy when we moved to the dome. Lots of light and happy feelings. No ghosts, imaginary or otherwise, but then, a few weeks ago someone knocked on our front door in the middle of the night. At least, that is what it sounded like. A soft knock on the front door. The dogs went bark-o-matic on us. Jim went to investigate, but there was nobody at the door. It was creepy. I made sure Tiny-Small was safe and sound and all the windows were shut and locked. Then I pretended to go back to sleep for the rest of the night. In the morning we discussed the knock. Jim was convinced it was a ghost. He figured it was the old lady who had built this house with her husband. She died recently. Jim figured she wanted to come home, but couldn’t get inside. AGAIN…Creepy. This is why I don’t allow Jim to watch horror movies. Remember that movie Paranormal Activity? I spent the majority of the movie convincing Jim it wasn’t an actual documentary. He kept forgetting it wasn’t real. I am sure he woke up in the middle of the night for weeks after watching it, just to make sure I wasn’t standing over him for hours every night. Anyway, I’d rather think it was just some drunk college kids playing a prank on us in the middle of the night than a ghost. We know they hang out on the mountain behind our house. We’ve seen the beer can evidence. That option is better than an actual haunting from a lady who is probably really cranky from having to wait outside her own house…for weeks now.
Anyway, back to why I thought my car was haunted. The quick answer is the knock on my door in the middle of the night had primed my imagination for the worst. The long answer is that I couldn’t figure out what was causing the thumping and the only logical conclusion was that my car was being haunted, obviously. The thumping sounded hollow and menacing.
When we got home I opened the back door and found my ghost. It was a watermelon. I am just glad it didn’t split open when it rolled and banged into the sides of my car. Good grief! I mean, seriously. I am losing my mind, right? Go ahead and say it. I know it’s true. Watermelon ghosts…they are the worst kind.
My car was haunted by a watermelon and my overactive imagination for exactly ten minutes the other day. I am glad that is over with. Now I can get back to being my regular, goofy self instead of a haunted person destined to star in some hokey remake about my life on The Learning Channel. Dodged a bullet that time!
Have you ever thought you were being haunted?