My delusional thirteen-year old self
I should not have done that. I still blame my parents for not knowing better.
A spirit had overtaken my body when I was thirteen-years-old. How else would I justify to the world and myself why I had begged to go in the scary house despite my family saying no. (Clearly, they are not an adventurous bunch.) My
Now, it was not only my fault. okay, a bit if you are focusing on the technicalities here. But the high road has never been my way.
So, I blame the mall gods for it. Nestled along with the chocolate fountain, the fish spa, trials of massage chairs blocked by middle aged uncles, and gaming arcade, there stood a scary house.
It had the required cheap skeletons, ghost masks, and a door that looked like it had seen better times. There was the head with red lights as eyes that beckoned the passerby’s to enter if they dared. And a bored cashier in a tiny window who had seen too many excited faces buying tickets and then scream his ears off when they entered. A bunch of cowards, if I may say so in my humble opinion.
Groups of friends, and families entered, rubbing their hands in confidence, and left stumbling out from the door, laughing and pointing at each other. As if the whole mall couldn’t hear their shrieks just a while back.
It looked like a cool place. Clearly, where I belonged, even when my siblings disagreed. After all, I regularly watched horror movies with my cousins, and this scary house looked like a beast I could tackle alone. I could just imagine myself going in, head high, not at all nervous like others, maybe scare a few ghosts too and laugh. I would even walk out and away as if I had just gone to the park.
I was wrong.
My parents agreed to let me go with a couple. They left their baby under the care of my mother. And off we three went for five minutes of fun.
We came out in one.
Only because the cashier took that long to come out of his booth and get the entry gate open.
Let me tell you, I believe the employees had conspired against us. Maybe they could see the smug look on my face, or they were that cruel to children and couples.
Who knew?
But, we were done with as soon as we entered the dark hall with red light. It was pointing us inside the main area which we never got to.
A figure in black that looked like death to me came from behind the curtain, his hands thrown in the air, screaming murder. I can’t tell you the exact description because I had already hidden my face in the sweet woman’s stomach at the first sight.
I could hear her yelling, only rivalled by my own as she rapped at the gate behind us to be let out. While her husband, the brave soul and our defender at that time stood in between us and the ghost as if that would save us from doom.
I could hear a brief argument from inside how they were not allowed to do that. I love my father for sticking up to that teen. You go, Papa!
And finally, the gate opened to the lights of heaven, not that I saw it.
I only remember the distinct smell of baby powder on the lady and then my mom’s familiar scent as I was transferred from arms of one to another. I was shivering while the family behind me collected themselves.
We parted ways after sticking together with each other in those difficult times. There was a silent promise of not talking about it again. And here I am, breaking it for you, dear readers.
My siblings stood behind me in silent solidarity.
It lasted two minutes till they cracked and jokes began. My brother imitated my screams, while my cousins enacted how I came out of the scary house. I had no response as I walked ahead to my parents, not before sticking out my tongue at them.
I was, after all, almost an adult.
If you smiled at any point while reading this. Firstly, you must be a sadist. But let me know by liking, commenting, and restacking (I will not judge you, much).
If you want to know whether I learned anything from this experience, I will let you know next week.
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