My mouse died so I had to go to Radio Shack to get a new one. It didn’t work. I investigated and found my USB port wouldn’t connect one thing to another as my printer didn’t connect either. I moved down a bit to another port and was able to connect, but I got a message about my keyboard not connecting. That was a strange one as this is a laptop and my keyboard is always connected. I removed and then put the thingamajig connection to my new mouse back into the port. It all worked. This morning I noticed what I first thought was a blob of dust on the guest room floor then I thought maybe Maddie didn’t like the condition of her litter box and figured the guest room floor a perfect substitute. I grabbed a handful of TP and went to clean. It was neither. It was a dead baby mouse. I’m thinking the coincidence is pretty eerie.
The day has yet to make up its mind. The sun comes out then disappears, but it is chilly even when the sun stays around a little. Right now it is only 69˚and I’ve closed the window behind me to keep out the cool breeze.
My father’s story of the man with the hook scared me. He had a couple of versions. There was one where the teenagers in the car were the intended victims but they escaped and sped off with the hook dangling from the window. That scared me but in the same way scary movies did. The version of the man scratching the window with his hook was different. I could believe the dirty, disheveled man was skulking around the neighborhood looking for victims. Every time a branch scraped against the window I knew it was the hook, and I was scared for real.
One night my parents were out grocery shopping when the scratching began. I was so scared I ran around the house looking for a hiding place. Under the bed was one but that seemed a bit obvious. If I were a crazed maniac with a hook, that would be the first place I’d look. The closet was another. I could hide behind the clothes on the hangers but what to do with my feet presented a problem. I couldn’t run for help. He was outside. If I used the phone, he’d know exactly where I was. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest, and I gasped for every breath.
When I heard a noise at the front door, I hid in the closet. I figured the man had found me and I was doomed except I wasn’t. It was my parents bringing in the groceries. I told them about the hook and the scratching. My dad told me the story wasn’t real, but I didn’t believe him. I had heard the scratching. I knew the man with the hook was still out there somewhere. My parents had scared him away, but I knew it was just for now.
