Blog 54 [7] ...things that go bump in the night...
As Hallowe'en is now upon us everyone’s mind turns to
pumpkins, skeletons, dressing up in spooky clothes not to mention the dreaded
‘Trick or Treat'...I’ve often wondered what the teenagers who knock on the door
would say if I only tricked them? Would they come back next year? Perhaps they
may slash my tyres or push my bins over in retribution... so I’ve never been
brave enough to try tricking anyone!
I have to say that the whole Hallowe'en experience has
become a tradition in our house...as little ones I dressed the boys up; they
have been pumpkins, vampires, ghouls and skeletons. They have been to discos
and even won prizes for their spooky costumes and ghostly dancing! Over the
years we have cut out pumpkin lanterns, had our tea at a table set with monster
styled goblets and toffee eye balls staring at us from the centre of the table.
We have eaten bright orange and black iced cakes. We have even had pretend
spider webs with large black spiders hanging down strewn across the walls and
tape that declared that the front door and windows belonged to a crime scene! If
anyone were to ask the boys if they have a favourite Hallow’een time I am sure
they would say it was the Hallow’een that we went across to Ireland for a
surprise birthday party! Ah those were the days when we could just pop over at
the drop of a hat! We were surprise guests for one of my uncles...the husband
of my Irish aunt I have often spoken about! We had our costumes packed in the
suitcases…the masks raised a few eyebrows at security…my uncle had no idea we
were coming over and the thrill of his surprise made it all the more exciting.
My aunt had arranged for a Hallowe'en party...the house was decked out
superbly, you could say in Hollywood style! Complete with a lit up grave stone
on the front porch to welcome the guests...all the decorations and food and drink
were second to none...and the atmosphere was brilliant with everyone in costume
including a headless woman and the ‘Hubby.’ It’s his costume that caused the
most trouble...that and the fresh Irish air, oh and the drink! Not one for
doing things by half if he’s dressing up then he’s dressing up in style! The
‘Hubby’ became the Hulk: complete with ripped shirt, ripped trousers, Hulk mask
and of course the obligatory green body paint. The party was in full swing
until the early hours when I finally managed to get a giggling ‘Hulk’ up the
stairs. Then panic set in...there was no way I could let him sleep on the
beautiful, crisp, white, Irish linen bedding...! So, I managed to wedge him in
between the ensuite toilet and bidet whilst I promptly pulled the covers off
the bed and laid bath towels on it ...then I proceeded to wash as much of the
green off him as I could whilst holding him against the wall...not an easy task
when he has had too much ‘fresh air’...and tries to kiss my forehead and tell
me how much he loves me...I did fleetingly try to get him into the shower which
would have been quicker and easier but then the thought of trying to restrain a
naked ‘Hulk’...well I’ll leave that to your imagination. So, the only thing I
could do was try to get as much of the body make-up off by wiping with a face
cloth...successfully I might add and just in time ... as I wiped the last green
streak he lunged forward with his eyes closed and I do believe I detected a hint of a snore...so I gently
pushed him back towards the wall and before I could grab him to lead him to bed
he slid down the wall, across the bidet and smack into a cupboard...I swear I
heard his ribs crack! He giggled and shushed me and promptly fell asleep
slumped on the bathroom floor...ah there’s nothing funnier than the sight of a
half naked sleeping hulk!
I have always denied my children the thrill of knocking
on neighbours’ doors but they seemed to have survived! Instead they wait,
dressed up in their finery with bowls of sweets, their spooky voices and
witch’s cackle practised to perfection...ready for any little ones who dare to
knock...this year is no exception even though they are older and wiser: we
still had to buy the sweets and trim the pumpkins. I shall miss this fun when
they have left home...perhaps I’ll turn into one of those little old ladies who
sit in the dark complaining about the noise and the stupidity of it all! I
cannot remember when Hallowe'en became so popular in this country or when trick
or treating became the ‘done’ thing! But suffice to say it happens and for one
night of the year for a few hours there is always a knocking on the door...and
an anticipation of ‘Who is it?’
What is this fascination with being frightened? It’s not
a real fear it’s what I call a pretend fear: the sudden shock of someone in a
mask, the appearance of a large dark shadow, an almost excited kind of feeling
anticipating someone or some ‘thing’ jumping out at us and making us scream
then laugh...it’s a bit like playing hide and seek as a child: you curl up in
the dark end of a wardrobe and wait; your heart beating ten to the dozen in
case the door is flung open and you are discovered. [I’ve always hated that
game...I’d wait for ages and then need the loo! The only time I have enjoyed it
was playing ‘Sardines’ at a party as a teenager...the best looking lad at the
party squeezed in next to me in the cupboard under the stairs...mmm this could
be interesting I thought to myself...then the door creaked open and in stepped
his girlfriend...ah well that’s life!]
Yes, Hallowe'en is pretend fear...not real fear: I know
what real fear is...
As a very little one, probably from about aged three I
used to wet the bed. Nothing frightening about that I hear you say, it’s
common. But for me it was the worst experience ever. At the time we were living
in a Victorian terraced house that was always dark with dark corners and
shadows cast by the lights that never seemed bright enough to light up the entire house. I remember that feeling of being watched: as I grew up I realised I
was feeling as though there was someone else in the house that didn’t belong: I
would lie in my bed at night too scared to get up and walk along the dark
landing, down a few steps and up on to a second landing to the bathroom. I just
couldn’t go there and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t wait until
daylight. Somewhere under my bed was a chamber pot, or ‘potty’ as we called it.
During the day it would sit proudly just under the foot of the bed but at night
in the dark it chose to slither away from me and be out of reach of my little
arms. For some reason almost as soon as I had wet the bed I would be hauled out
of my bed and taken to the cellar: where my ‘big sister’ would already be
standing having wet her bed too! This was our punishment. We stood together in
the dark. I would squeeze her hand and we faced the cellar door which would
then be shut. It was so dark I couldn’t see my sister but I could hear her
breathing: she didn’t speak; neither of us spoke. We cried silently and as the
tears rolled down my cheeks my head ached with the fear of the unknown; what
was in the dark with us? We stood in silence and fear on the third step. Always
the third step...any further into the dark dungeon and we would be lost
forever...the black beast that lived in the coal pile at the side of the stairs
would come and get us...if you don’t move and don’t speak and don’t cry out
loud...he’ll stay in the darkness and we’d be safe.
I grew up with the fear of the cellar which was so bad that
I hated passing the cellar door: I had this strong feeling that the door would
fly open and something would haul me in and drag me down the steps...so I would
walk backwards into the kitchen so as not to turn my back on the door and kept
my eyes firmly on the handle in case it turned. This fear also had me panicking
about the toilet seat...I know for goodness sake: I would walk slowly into the
dark bathroom and lift the seat lid carefully half expecting a monster’s head
to be stuck there and waiting for me...worse still I used to sit on the loo all
the time looking up at the hatch into the attic to make sure that the monster
who lived in the attic didn’t open the hatch and pull me up to sit with him in
the darkness. No wonder I had bowel problems!
During my teaching career it has been different in every
school regarding the way Hallowe'en was approached: some of the schools allowed
rooms to be decorated, children dressed up and even staff dressed up plus there would be fun
activities to just mark the day such as dunking for apples, silly songs, scary stories
and fancy dress competition. One school in particular was a single faith one,
my own faith so I should have known better, I stupidly presented the children
with a classroom disguised as a witch’s coven complete with broom, hat,
silhouettes on the window and a huge display of witches and goblins and ghosts
flying high in the sky over a skyline of houses and a full moon! I had planned
ghost story writing, spooky poetry and my own version of Hallowe'en
mathematics! However, the Chairman of Governors was horrified... in order for
any of the displays or activities to remain I was instructed to counter display
an angel for each silhouette or figure and the children were to be informed
about the true meaning of the Hallowed Eve as well as being instructed in a set
of prayers to protect them that night. This was the first time I had
encountered such fear of Hallowe'en and made me realise that not every one sees
it as some form of fun. It was the first time that I became aware of an adult’s
fear of ghosts...this was different to my childish fear of the dark. I think
maybe most people at some stage in their lives have experienced some kind of
encounter whether it is a sound, a sighting or just a feeling or perhaps have
grown up frightened of the ‘Bogey Man’ under the bed. We do not need it to be
Hallowe'en to be reminded of these things...
The second house I grew up in was equally as dark as the
first house but definitely spooky. I grew up with this sense of fear but I
didn’t know what I was frightened of! At night there were footsteps that walked
from the bathroom to our bedroom door and then stopped...if my ‘big sister’
stood by the door she would feel the floor board moving as if someone was
standing on the other side of the door. We would hear the light switch go on
but no light would appear. Cupboard doors would open and close themselves,
ornaments would drop off the window sills and cupboards...and once my make up
bag lifted and moved to the other side of my dressing table...whilst I was in
the process of ‘tarting’ myself up for a really big date! This is fear of the
worst kind. Not wanting to be left alone in the house in case something awful
happened. You could leave a room and close the door behind you and then return
to find the door opened wide. Often things would go missing and turn up in the
strangest of places: for example my beautiful pearl on a gold chain, which had
been given to me for being a bridesmaid, disappeared and for years I searched
every drawer and toy box and handbag. Then when we were decorating our bedroom
my ‘big sister’ and I rolled back the old carpet and discovered my necklace in
between the floorboards...how did that happen? We had a large mirror in the
hallway and sometimes you could walk past it and catch a glimpse of a shadow
moving past or there would be a blowing of breath on the back of your neck.
I know there will be those of you reading this who are sceptical
and there is always a reason for a noise or movement: but we didn’t have
central heating in those early days so it wasn’t a case of pipes warming up or
cooling down that caused the floorboards to creak: and could the sound of
something heavy being dropped and dragged across a floor upstairs be explained
when nothing was out of place? What about walking up the garden path in the
dark approaching the front door and knowing that everyone is out yet you see
the shape of someone in the upstairs window...waiting for you? Ah yes this is
all very spooky and we grew up sharing our home with this ‘other’ presence and
our father laughing and refusing to do anything about it! In fact not many
people would believe it...then one day when some relatives were staying one of
them woke up with the sight of a young boy standing at the foot of the bed and
in a the blink of an eye he was gone! I had seen this same figure just once in
all the years I lived in that house...he was sitting on the stairs. I was 11
and at home after having a bad fall at school. I was in the house alone and
curled up in the back room when I heard the front door open and eagerly awaited
my mum’s appearance . When she didn’t come in I got up to greet her and
discovered that I was still alone. I returned to my reading; when I heard the
door again and went to see her to my horror there was no sign of my mum but the
middle door was now open and pushed against the wall...struggling not to
cry...I know I’m a wimp...I came back through the hallway and as I turned
towards the stairs a small boy was sitting there smiling...and then he was
gone! I suppose you could say it was obvious it would be a child haunting the
house with all the things that happened being quite childlike and certainly it
was childish things that occurred when many years later when I was looking after the
house during my father’s absence.
I was in charge of checking the house’s security and I
tried to make it look like the house wasn’t empty...oh believe me I know it
sounds daft but I thought if I moved things about each day then any potential
burglars would peep through the window and think that the house was occupied!
So the first day I put placemats out on the table, set mugs by the kettle and
moved the mail as well as setting a newspaper by my father’s chair. On returning
the following day I discovered the placemats in a pile in their normal place in
the centre of the table, the mugs in the cupboard and the paper was nowhere to
be seen. Mmm... I thought one of my brothers must have been in. So day two I
placed the iron and ironing board in the kitchen, put a few things on it to
look like someone was busy, I moved the cushions to look like they were being
used and opened the curtains in the front room...I think you can guess what I
saw on the third day! The iron and board were put away, the clothes were on his
bed and the curtains were closed. I rang both brothers and no, neither of them
had been in...that was it...I was done...I wasn’t going back alone...the
‘Hubby’ had to check the house at night with me...that wasn’t easy either! We
moved the mail, checked the doors were locked; re-set the house alarm and
returned to the car...only for the ‘Hubby’ to say; “Why did you put the
upstairs lights on?...” I hadn’t even been upstairs... “Just drive...” was my
reply...
So with all these spooky memories I am now preparing for
Hallowe'en, the ‘Cutie-pie’ [...Intelligent-programmer... as he now wishes to
be known!] has his costume ready, we have the wigs and masks and we have the
pumpkins cut out...the cobwebs sway in the draft from the door, the plastic
bats and paper chains are hanging and there is an air of expectancy with the
bowl of toffee eyeballs, ghost shaped marshmallows and creepy, bloodied hand
peeping out of the lollipops...all set by the door…
...all we need
now is the dark...
...“Whoahha...eee
heeeheeeh arrrggghhh...”
...well you get the picture...
I hope you have fun this Hallowe'en and that the spooks
you see and the bumps and crashes you hear and the fear you feel are... all
only pretend...
Blog 54[7]
Copyright©GML2012.
