Fright Night In Terror Town

Yesterday I was dragging. I was tired. My eye bags were more like steamer trunks. I could say I don’t do Mondays, but that’s not it. You might say it’s the gloomy gray weather, but that’s not it either. I know the reason. The silly, stupid thing preventing me from falling asleep Sunday night…oh that? Well, it was a mad case of the willies. The creeps. The jitters. My inner paranoid android taking control, transforming every muffled sound into imminent danger. I was a wreck.  So, I kept my racing brain, weary body and bad vibes company all.night.long.

Sometimes, I get the scareds. My over active imagination drags me into the dark corners of my brain. I have been quite honest about this short coming: My name is Melicious, and I am a super scaredy cat. I scream at almost everything. I am on the brink of tears as I claw the arm I am clutching so tightly through tunnels of terror. I cover my eyes through scary movies.  I am a wuss… if that’s still a word.  But here’s the problem; I look like the stereotypical “she screams, she dies” character.  Blonde, oblivious, unsuspecting with a great set of lungs.  While Hubby was at work, my mind started playing tricks. Last night’s jitters were instigated by a mildly creepy man with small hands trying to pet Jilly in the elevator. His small frame loomed over my nervous dog, as she cowered behind me..because she’s smart.  He then watched us get off on our floor, and as I walked down the hall I heard someone running in the stairwell. A sure sign that someone was pursuing me.  So, I tripped over myself trying to force my shaky hands to turn my front door key.  Slamming the door behind me, locking it and turning out the lights.  Breathing deeply, trying to catch my racing heart.  Well, that’s all I needed to worry myself sleepless.  I convinced myself I am a easy target, even in a jam packed Toronto condo building.

Alright, so I’m not as tough as I pretend to be. I am a Nervous Gertie; at least when I am alone. Mostly cuz I live by the slowest man principal. You know, I just have to be faster than the slowest guy, and that’s hard when you’re alone. So, I triple checked all the locks. Then I curled up under a blanket; hoping to camouflage myself into the sofa, just in case this small handed man should get in…this fur covered blanket would protect me.  As a late night last resort I called BFF so I had someone on the phone while I checked behind doors and inside closets. I even checked the shower for Swamp Thing, a common occurrence when I’m scared. Like I am the first person on Swamp Things to terrorize list. I see him waiting in my shower to pounce…er, swoosh? Sheesh.  Freaking her out by proxy, forcing her to check her closets and dark corner too, just in case.  And even though I knew we were safe, I still couldn’t sleep.  After 2nd lock check the only way that creepy looming little handed man could get in was an Xfiles way, and I have accepted my powerlessness against unexplained phenomenon. I knew I would be wrecked the next day.  But try telling that to a Nervous Gertie with a mean case of the jitters.  So, I resigned myself to fear and went to stare sleeplessly at the ceiling in my bedroom…with a cheese knife under my pillow. Though the two were unrelated.

I have been quite honest about my love/hate relationship with being scared. Check out: Bone Chilling October or I Watch Too Many Horror Movies, Way Too Many

Fright Night In Terror Town

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