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2014-08-04 20.15.55-1So, I’m lying down in my attic room in a house built in 1890. And the lights are flickering and there’s a secret room to my right where a section of the house has been sealed off (with a mysterious window that leads to nowhere might I add). The wind is howling. The rain is pounding against the windows. And I’m feeling all warm and cozy and cheery. I snuggle deeper into my blankets and revel in the mysteriousness of it all.

photoKeeping my jolly outlook in mind, you have to imagine my surprise when I woke up bright and early the next morning to find out that my sister and cousin stayed up until three in the morning shivering under blankets in the living room downstairs. They tried to watch happy movies to keep away the boogie man, but nothing could erase the fear from the night before. It was all because we had brainstormed a psychological thriller (that we’re going to film) and while I demonstrated the jerky way that this ghost-hag thingie was going to crawl through the backyard in a dark silhouette of AWESOMENESS, the lights flickered. Yup. They flickered. And of course, the house is over a hundred years old and we were in the middle of a storm, and it was just too much. Oh, and apparently I have no imagination, which is disturbing because I’m a writer. Ghosts could be knocking me over the head and still leave dejected when I don’t give them a good enough reaction.

I’m sorry! I just can’t help it. My scared switch is broken but my mouth isn’t. It’s the story of my life:

  • I’m walking with a sister in the forest and I see an abandoned jacket on the side of the road and I say in my creepiest voice, “I wonder where the body is?” And then I have to catch up to my sister because she is running.
  • Or I say “I think our dolls are alive.”
  • Or “I wonder if there’s a dead body in that sealed off portion in my room and that’s why they walled that window up.”
  • Or when I was in the Philippines and we came home to our dark apartment that night and realized we didn’t have a key, and I said with a smile: “We’re being watched!”

Well, guess who had to run again? And it’s hard when you don’t have adrenaline. I’d much rather be scared because it would give me that extra oomph. And then I wouldn’t have to wander the halls alone at an abandoned jail because everybody else has to have a buddy because it’s too dark and shadowy in the basement to NOT have one. Sure, maybe it was my idea to film in this dark and spooky place, but that’s because IT WAS PERFECT! And as we walked past the maze of rusty showers looking for just the right setting, of course someone else just needs to hear a noise and then there’s running again!!!

But no worries, people. My older brother gave me a taste of my own medicine last time we sat in a tower at the top of the Rocket Re-Entry ride at Lagoon. We dangled there about 200 feet off the ground, and I felt as calm as anything until he turned to me and said, “What if our seat belts weren’t clicked in? We’d be dead. Dead. I don’t think our seat belts are…”
And then we dropped.

Jerk.

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