Fuzzy Memories - Kim Edition

We were probably 14 or 15. I was sleeping over at Kim's house and it was pretty late at night. We were home alone.


***It should be mentioned here that Kim's house sits on a laaaaarge piece of property, is very old, and very--let's just say--atmospheric.***


The wholesome activity we'd chosen for the evening was sitting in the kitchen talking (about boys I assume) and roasting marshmallows--using forks--over the gas stove. (Hey, it works, alright?)

Suddenly we hear a noise and both stop to listen.


We hear the noise again and it's coming from the front of the house.


Being young girls, highly excitable, and in an "atmospheric" house, we go to investigate.

We find the front door slightly ajar. "Oh" Kim says, "it doesn't always close tight. The wind probably blew it open."


Nevertheless, being the sensible girls we are, we return to the kitchen and arm ourselves with the largest knives in the knife drawer. Then we sit down and continue talking.


A minute or two later, we hear another noise and both freeze, straining our ears for any sound. I'm sitting with my back to the sink and kitchen window.

Kim is facing me and sitting next to the stove.


In a split second, I hear Kim scream and watch as every drop of blood drains from her face. She's looking directly over my shoulder towards the kitchen window. I swivel my head to see a white face floating in the darkness and smiling and my Banshee screams join Kim's. By now we're both on our feet running across the room. On my way off the bar stool, I fling the knife I'm holding behind me towards the ghostly apparition. Instead of my would-be attacker, the knife hits a glass bowl and knocks it into the sink where it shatters loudly--adding to the cacophony. Kim also throws her knife, barely missing my knee-cap.


Now we're both across the room and turn to face what is surely to be the last thing we'll see before our untimely murders. We're gripping each other, white-faced, defenseless, and still screaming like--well--little girls.


It takes a second to sink in.


It's Stacy. Kim's older sister. She's standing on the porch outside the kitchen window.


She'd gotten home from work, heard us in the kitchen and decided to scare us. So she simply walked out on the deck and popped her head up in front of the window with a big smile on her face.


The ironic thing is, had she actually been an attacker, we would have been defenseless having stupidly thrown away perfectly good weapons.


It's pretty amazing neither of us had a heart incident that night. Or a pee incident for that matter! I think it took a week for my heart-rate to return to normal.

To this day, that is the most scared I have ever been.

I told you my scary story, now you tell me yours!