So after our little encounter in the workroom, or shop, the ghost upped the stakes. He went after my kids.
Nobody, I’m tellin’ you, nobody threatens my kids. I will go all homicidal on your ass if you mess with my kids.
I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.
You hurt my children in any way and you are dead meat. Which is why The Walking Dead bugged me so much– because there were flesh-eating zombies everywhere and nobody ever knew where the fuck Carl was. Tsk. Tsk.
My aunt stuck around for a week. She’s now deceased, but she was a lovely prim and proper woman. She made more lemonade out of lemons than anyone I know. She observed the goings on, watched the ghost flush toilets, flip the light switches on and off, open and close doors, heard the chains rattling at night, and her only comment was… “How interesting.”
I think the ghost didn’t want to show his true colors in front of her because he waited until she left to get back at me.
Oh, by the way, this time when I drove her to the airport I brought the dog.
That very night, the night of the day she left, I was in bed with my baby when my six year old son and the dog burst into the room.
“I was asleep in my bed and my door flew open and the dog jumped on top of me and a man walked into my room and he had a mustache and a big brown hat. Can I sleep with you?”
Me, in a panic – “Where’s your sister?”
My son – “Downstairs.”
Me – “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Watch the baby. Keep the dog in here.”
I hightailed it down the stairs. Just as I reached my daughter’s bedroom, her door flew open and this ice cold thing walked right through me.
“Get away from my kids,” I yelled. “You stay the fuck away from my kids.”
My three year old daughter lifted her head, confused. I threw the blankets off, grabbed her and ran up the stairs with her in my arms.
“I’m warning you,” I called back down the stairs. “You stay away from my kids. You touch my kids again and I’m coming for you. I don’t care how many lifetimes it takes, I will get you.”
Yeah, as if. But at that moment I didn’t care. Nobody, dead or alive, messes with my kids.
After that night we all slept together in my bed. Me, the baby, my son, my three year old and the dog. Actually they slept, I stood guard. If we had to go downstairs to get anything we went as a group.
Meanwhile the ghost took the opportunity to run rampant through the rest of the house. I was expecting the walls to bleed any day.
Let me tell you, the battle lines had been drawn and at this point I was concerned he could outlast me. After all, he didn’t need to sleep or eat.
Son of a bitch.
My husband still couldn’t come and the situation was escalating.
Tomorrow – I Have A Chat with the Neighbors.