It’s happening, the phenomena of being home alone.
I love my house. My mom has created a haven unlike anything I could have imagined. HOWEVER. The parents are out for the night and I am home alone. *Oh Snap.* Suddenly every sound is a footstep, avery light beam is some other worldly creature. “Is it nice? Malicious? Here to kill me? Need a pick me up?”
What the dogs don’t know is that I have rallied them around me for courage. I cleverly shut the bathroom door where they love to sleep and have forced them to encircle me on the couch. It’s probably from all the ghost talk I had with mom and Mindi about a week ago… Since when was this house built in the 70’s? Why do I feel like I can hear 8mm film flickering somewhere? I should put on country music, no ghost would stick around for that. Why is it that the only night in a month that it storms in Baton Rouge is the night I’m home alone. I’ll just have to pull a Kelsea and sleep with Hamilton the hammer under my pillow.
Oh boy, morning can’t come soon enough! The power of the imagination is INCREDIBLE. I started thinking about that, how the brain can illicite an actual physical response from the body-sweating, pounding heart, heavy breathing, pretty powerful stuff. Therefore I am desperately trying to get the ghoulish face of a ghostly old man out of my head. Aha!! I’ll watch cat videos! I bet even the ghoulish old man would get a kick out of those