Well, this sort goes a long with Halloween because it is a scary story but not really Halloween related. I originally wrote it as a guest post but that didn't work out as planned so it's making an appearance here, as it should. If you have a minutes sit back and try to picture this with me.
I think it was around autumn; I remember being cold and thoughts of Halloween were on my mind so it actually could have been any time of year since I tend to always be thinking about Halloween. I had just walked in to our apartment after getting home from work. At the time we lived in a large two bedroom, two bathroom apartment. I performed the usual routine, let the dog out, get the mail and use the restroom in the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. After I walked out of our bedroom I thought I heard something coming from the other bedroom which was on the other side of the apartment. I'm not trying to say that we lived in a giant space but the spare bedroom and bathroom just weren't areas of the house we hung out in frequently. As I walked over to investigate the noise I stopped in the kitchen to grab a steak knife. Picture the dumb blond in some B movie that you're screaming at not to go towards the noise. I mean, I admit I thought about how dumb this was, going towards the noise but in my mind I was smart enough to grab a knife. That was my justification; a freaking steak knife. That would for sure save my life. But you see I'm a weapon kind of girl and not in the NRA sense I just mean that if I feel that my life is threatened I WILL look for the closest thing near me that could possibly cause the most damage.
What's funny about this story is that my dog wasn't acting weird or barking at any strange noises. That is definitely the other reason for my brief moment of invincibility and or stupidity. He has a very comforting protective bark that is distinct from his other barks, you know the annoying ones? So I wasn't too worried because the dog wasn't giving me any clues.
I entered the hallway between the spare bathroom and the closet which housed our washer and dryer and began gingerly peering into the bathroom and then into the bedroom which was at the end of the hallway. As I leaned into the room like a stealth ninja or more so like a Charlie's Angel, which is what I prefer, I braced myself for well, nothing. I thought for sure I was just losing my mind and wouldn't find a darn thing. I mean, let me tell you I have heard many noises, in many places, in various situations where I'm alone or it's just me and the dog and I have reacted nearly the same way, knife-in-hand, ready to bust some ass only to come up short. But this apartment was different, it was actually built really well. I never heard the other neighbors through the walls. Never. I'm not kidding. I never heard a loud TV or radio or even some newly married couple yelling at each other in the middle of the night. I never even heard a dog barking outside or even kids playing out on the grass. In return, we never even had a neighbor complain about us either. Not a single time did anyone complain about our dog running around on the floor or barking or how loud we like to listen to our gangster rap or that one time I repeatedly stabbed that door-to-door salesman in the back. No one said a word about his screaming. It was pretty much the perfect place to live aside from the OUTRAGEOUS monthly rate and the jerk-off management.
I took a deep breath before letting the steak knife proceed me when entering the spare bedroom and just as I exhaled I heard someone behind me. It was definitely not my dog and it was for sure a human. I think I was hoping for an alien or even God himself. I quickly turned around and with all of my strength I flung that steak knife around and aimed straight for....wait....what?.....looking up at this intruders face I realized that it was my husband and I immediately clammed up in fear and then almost instantly I fell to the ground and began sobbing. I sobbed like a little girl who saw her stuffed animals get thrown into a giant compost machine and watched as they were ripped to shreds. I sobbed because I almost just stabbed my husband right in the stomach. I sobbed because this time I trusted my instincts when I heard the noise and it turned out I was right that someone was in our apartment. I sobbed also because it scared the living poo out of me when I heard that person standing behind me. Oh and did I mention I almost stabbed my husband? My husband. My young, vibrant, sexy husband who's abs I happen to enjoy, yeah him, I almost freaking stabbed him. I could have killed him. Dead.
My husband, above mentioned guy, in case you haven't been paying attention, is a huge prankster and he was kneeling beside me excreting apology after apology trying to hug me yet failing at it miserably. I definitely wanted to kill him now but for completely different reasons. He was always sneaking up on me trying to scare me even though he knows it only pisses me off. I don't like to be startled it ignites an anger inside of me that I can't explain. I just flat out hate it. Get me in a haunted house and I'm less likely to punch some teenager wearing a crappy mask who scares me than I am if I'm in my own house getting a drink of water and someone comes up from behind to scare me. It's different; totally diverse situations (humor me).
I distinctly remember him spewing a hallow promise about never scaring me ever again but I can't even begin to count how many times he has scared me since that day even though his life was threatened. Death won't even stop him from being annoying and that's pretty much how the rest of my life is going to go.