Hiding under the bed not always a good idea
- Laura Moore: Housebroken
- May 28, 2024
- 884
Gathering with friends around a campfire is a lovely way to spend an evening — that is if Mother Nature cooperates.
Our last fireside evening was suddenly interrupted by a very loud clap of thunder. There were no storms or rain expected that evening, and the sky had been clear until a big dark cloud moved over us, shutting off the light from the moon. More thunder growled, and a few drops of rain began to fall.
Everyone opened their umbrellas, and a few of us ran to wait it out in our cars. When
it’s threatening rain (and maybe lightning), I prefer to wait it out under something a bit more substantial than an umbrella. Mother Nature’s little tantrum didn’t last long, and soon we were all back around the campfire talking, laughing and watching the kids roast marshmallows.
When I was a child, during the cold winter months, we enjoyed sitting in front of the
fireplace while Dad told ghost stories. He told the same stories every time. They might have varied a bit with each telling, but they were very believable because they were repeated so often.
I still remember the shivers we kids got when Dad got to the scary part of each story. For instance, in one story a ghost would appear in the upstairs hallway and peek in each of our bedrooms. If we had thrown our covers off, that spooky old ghost would cover us back up.
Once when my brother thought he saw the ghost, he made a running leap from his bedroom into mine and landed on my bed, where he hunkered down and pulled the covers over his head. All that activity scared my sister, who began screaming, which brought our parents running down the hall to see what was going on. We, of course, blamed it all on the ghost.
Before my brother was discovered hiding under the cover on my bed and sent back to his room, he managed to slip under my bed without being seen. Unfortunately, our cat slept under my bed, and when her space was invaded, she screeched and scared my brother again, who then rolled out from under the bed and took off running down the hallway.
It was a rather long time before Dad told us ghost stories before bedtime again. Even when we were much older, Dad loved to tell the ghost in the hall story to friends, and everyone would laugh — but not us.