that being said, i've seen (or at least thought i've seen) hella crazy creepy shit. i could go on and on. and maybe i will. i need more reoccurring column/post/whatever thingies on this joint, so why not exploit how lame and naive i was and still am when it comes to ghosties and things that go bump in the night?
i'll start with my first (or maybe it was my 2nd or 3rd ) sighting. (unless you count the time i was in my first apartment growing up. mom was brushing her teeth in the bathroom. i was standing directly parallel to her with the bathroom door open, staring out on the open balcony - we lived on the 2nd floor. i turned around to a quiet whirring noise. there was a fucking mini truck-trailer thingy driving around in circles on our balcony i shit you not. i asked my mom, 'why is there a tiny truck driving around on our porch?' this was not a toy. it was like, the size of a medium sized dog. i swear to this day this is what i saw. i turned around when my mom gargled, 'whaaat?' spitting out her toothpaste in the sink. 'right there' - i pointed. and of course it was gone. now this wasn't scary or anything, up until last year when i saw a full sized replica of the same exact fucking truck driving in chicago. maybe it'll end up running me over someday and i foreshadowed my death. or maybe as my mom said, 'jodi your imagination runs wild.' whatever i totally saw that fucking mini truck thing.)
tangent - let's try this again.
so i was at some creepy extended relative's house. if i had to guess, i'd say i was maybe 7 or 8. i don't remember who's house it was but i think it might have been on the root side. any of you who know me know i don't know my dad or who he is, so you're probably thinking, i thought there was ONLY the root side, but truth is my grandma was Turner, my stepgrandfather, the one i grew up with was a Parr, but my biological grandfather who died 3 years before i was born and was divorced from my grams years and years before that, was the Root. George Root. I hear he was a real asshole. Anyway, we never really hung with that crew so that would explain why this particular family outting was different than the rest. It was like some of them had money! I remember vividly that they had this nice house, different from all the rotting trailers and decrepid farmhouses or lurky marijuana basements the rest of my family resided in. A huuuge, green backyard, with plenty of floral arrangements and mini gardens. The food/picnic was awesome, with branded chips! No Roundy's! Real fruit punch! But all the relatives were weirdos and the 'cousins' i was sposed to play with dressed better than me.
One or two of my first cousins I grew up with were there too. But the details are kinda foggy - because, like i said, i was A) only 6 or so and B) survived 7 concussions; there's a lotta shit i don't remember from growing up.
The shit I do remember though still haunts me to this day. Ever since I was little, probably from the day i first saw that whirring mini truck circling around my balcony, I've been able to get weird feelings. Not the sense of, 'man this dude is a date rapist i should flee' or 'this toothless homeless person might rob me,' but like, unmentionable weird creepy vibes. like something is super not right, even if it looks right. I mean, here I was, pretending to not be white trash! Eating hella candy and playing with rich kid toys! I shoulda been happy as a clam! ( i dont get that expression). Instead, I caught myself looking over my shoulder constantly. I tried to play inside with my other first cousins, but my mom and aunts kept shooing us out, to play in the yard since it was such a nice day. blah blah blah.
I didn't like that back yard. Not one bit. The front yard was fine. That's where the picnic set up was. The people. Grown Ups. The back yard, on the other hand, just had the lawn gnomes. Those. fucking. creepy. ass. lawn. gnomes. Now, I'm not scared of lawn gnomes. I think they're just as quirky/kitschy as the rest of ya'll. Ha ha funny gnome. Let's steal it and take polaroids of it. Whatever. But these gnomes were different. Straight outta some R.L. Stine Goosebumps shit. But this was years before that series.
There were 3 or so of them. And they were placed at different spots by one of the mini gardens in back. I don't remember if we were playing freeze tag or just randomly rolling around in the grass. But everytime I'd turn around, those fucking gnomes would have switched spots. There were only 3 or 4 of us kids and I was the closest one to the house, so it wasn't like anyone was sneaking behind me and moving the gnomes to freak me out. Plus, these kids may have had richer parents than me, but they weren't that fucking clever at age 7. At one point, I elbowed one of my cousins and pointed out that these creepy little fuckers were moving. We started staring at them, and I can't be sure if I saw anything or not, but at the time I remember swearing I saw one move. Whether or not they did, fuck if I know. But I'll never forget that pinching, exhilirating rush I felt as the adrenaline of fear rushed through me. Taste of batteries in my throat. Racing heartbeat.
At one point I ran in the kitchen. "mom. mom. come out here." 'jodi go back outside, what do you want?' "mom, the gnomes outside are following me, i can feel their eyes." 'jodi, quit being ridiculous.'
by the time i was back outside, my cousins were fully aware of the creeping lawn gnomes. they too got freaked out and we spent about a half hour just staring at them. we got too freaked out and hid in the basement and played board games for a bit. maybe an hour or two later, we rolled back outside. the lawn gnomes were all back in their original spots - but each gnome in a different place. none of the adults ever ventured outside as they were all too busy hitting the keg and smoking joints in the garage. the lawn gnomes never moved super far, but i'm telling you they moved enough to notice. maybe like, a couple feet total. like i said, this story is lame and very well could be the result of my 'wild imagination.' but at the same time, while the names and faces of my extended cousins are long forgotten, the fucking pinching oh-my-god twisty feeling in my gut that i still get from time to time is far from long gone.
that shit gave me the creeps. and that, (other than the creepy truck thingy), was my first 'are ghosts real?' contemplation. from there on, it just got creepier and creepier. but i can't give all my secrets away now right off the bat, right? i kinda want a lawn gnome now. i would name him gerard.
that is all.
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