Things I'm Afraid Of: Freaking Annabelle Is At The Top Of That List

   A while back, I watched The Conjuring, a movie that's trailers had terrified me for months with that 'clap hands' game. Watching the movie had some things that were pretty scary to me, but nothing scared me more than the doll Annabelle. I mean, holy-f***ing-shit, was that doll creepy.
   Now to step back from that a minute, I have to say that I am afraid of quite a lot of things. The list is extensive: the dark, rats, my old Speech 101 class, demons, register 6 at work, crows, dolls, anything that might be haunted, lice, driving, heights, and really, a whole slew of things. When I was a kid, I was convinced that all the posters on my sister's walls were watching me, and I had a recurring nightmare about a green man that lived under my bed, so you can add the underneath of beds to that long, long list.
   So why watch all of the horror, and do silly things like reading Stephen King and other scary shit? Well, I don't know. Maybe I'm just a dumbass. All I can say is that I've had these problems long before I remember watching or reading anything scary. Trust me, with my fear of the dark and refusal to sleep alone, my parents were pretty strict about me not  watching anything remotely scary for a long time. I was a teenager before my dad really started watching horror with me (and here you have the beginning of mine and my sister's scary movie nights) and by my teenage years, I had learned to deal with my fears. I'm still afraid of things, but usually I just shrug it off. Dark? Oh well, I'll handle it. I still prefer not to be in the dark, but if I need to walk down a long, dark hallway, I'll do so. And then I'll bitch about having had to do so for the next few days, but the point is, I don't let my fear stop me. And I guess scary movies and books and games are just a fun way for my to poke at that fear. Or I'm insane. Or something; I don't know. The point is, that usually I have my fear locked down. When we are watching horror movies, my sister is the one who won't look at the screen during the scary parts, but instead, watches me watching the scary part so that she can gauge my reaction and know when it's safe to look again. But I can promise you that I have more fear in me than she has in her, so it baffles me that she does that. Whatever.
   So now back to that doll in The Conjuring. You see, that doll really scared me. And in one of the magazines that I subscribe to, there was a movie preview for the spin-off movie that they are making of The Conjuring. Also, I would like to point out that I was reading this review around 2 a.m. in the morning because I couldn't sleep. Which I knew was a mistake immediately, so I put the magazine down and did my best not to think about Annabelle. Of course, if you have ever sit there and tried desperately not to think about something... Well, you know about how well that works. So  I started pacing a little, because when I'm stressed, I pace. I'm sitting here pacing, trying not to think about this stupid effing doll, and of course, that's making my imagination run absolutely wild. And there are dolls in my house, in my daughter's room. So I'm trying NOT to think about them either. And I'm pacing. And trying not to think about dolls that I can't stop thinking about. And the damned lights go out. No warning; just darkness. And I fall down, and I scream. I mean, a blood curdling, there's-an-axe-murderer-in-my-apartment scream.
    And my daughter is just saying, calm as can be, "Just get a flashlight, Mom." And trust me, that's embarrassing, to have your daughter say something like that to you in a voice that clearly indicates that she is rolling her eyes for all she is worth. Even more embarrassing? Knowing full well that ALL of the neighbors heard you shriek like that. It's like a bad horror movie; the power goes out and some dumbass chick starts screaming. Oh, holy crap.
   The lights didn't come back on that night. They didn't come back on until around 10 a.m. the next morning. The word around the street was that a transformer blew. But to me, this was a SIGN. In capital letters: MARIE CANNOT WATCH ANNABELLE. Bad things will happen.

Just say no, Marie.

My Sister's Freaky-Deaky Laundry Room

   My sister and I had another scary movie sleep over the other night and we had it at her apartment; having sleep overs at her apartment is something I am seriously beginning to question. The logic behind having most of our sleep overs at her apartment rather than mine is that I have a one bedroom apartment with limited sleeping space, and her rather roomier apartment has a multitude of extra beds, including a trundle bed that pulls out from under her bed and two couches that convert into mattresses. I have a futon and an air mattress, so her sleeping arrangements are often more comfortable as well. So logically speaking, her apartment is the better one to have sleep overs in when we are doing our scary movie thing, and scaring the crap out of ourselves and each other.
    However, I am not a logical person; I admit this freely, and the problem I have with her apartment is this: her apartment is very clearly haunted, and mine is not. We can all sleep in my apartment on the floors, and be free of ghosts and demons; that is my logic. I wanna live, dammit.
   How did I come to this conclusion about her apartment, you may be asking. This conclusion is from over a year's worth of careful observation. You see, when she first moved into that apartment, I didn't go into her home with preconceived notions, but after the first time I slept over, I had woken often, on my nice, comfy full sized couch bed, with the feeling that something had been standing over me. I don't know why I felt that way, but I did, and I didn't get much sleep. Of course, I did brush this off at first, because the entire reason that I stay over at my sister's apartment is so that we can watch horror films. I was paranoid because of what we had just watched, right?
   Wrong. When I joked about my feelings on facebook, making fun of myself as I often do, a friend who had once lived in the exact same building as my sister told me that family members of hers had seen and sensed things in that building. (singsong-voice --->) FREAKY!!!
   But whatever, you know. Almost every building in this complex probably has some kind of history; these buildings are old, that's why they are cheaper than every other complex in this area. Be that as it may, this complex does not have any kind of a disturbing, paranormal reputation, so I figured we were good. People talk; if there was some really freaky shit going on in one of these buildings, we would know.
   Still, my sister would complain to me about seeing things out of the corner of her eye, but when she would look directly, nothing would be there. She would hear things in the hall at night, but her kids would be in bed, things like that. You know, common shit that you see in every single cliche haunting movie. So I really couldn't decide whether or not we were just spooking each other. Active imaginations can feed off of one another, and we both have very active imaginations that we are feeding constantly with supernatural horror movies. Of course we are seeing shit. If we stopped watching horror movies, we would stop seeing crap out of the corners of our eyes, a problem that I do not have in my own apartment, but still.
    The thing that really pushed me over the edge was when we were leaving to go on our Yellowstone vacation last summer. I had stayed the night at her house the night before we left for that vacation, because we wanted to get an early start, and I figured that this would be easier if we were just all at the same place in the morning. Less travel, you know? My sister had someone who was going to come over during that time to take care of her guinea pig, so she wanted me to set our dirty clothes in the laundry room so that they would be out of the way when the person came over, which I did, no problem. However, when we came back from our trip, I went over to pick up our overnight stuff from her apartment, and I could not open the door. The door knob felt like someone was holding on to it from the other side, and pull as I might, I could not get the door open, and it felt for all the world like someone was pulling on the door from the other side!
    That's all the convincing that I need. I left my stuff; that old haunt wants some dirty overnight clothes, it can have them. I hate laundry; I am sure as hell not gonna die for it. I WILL BUY NEW SHIT. If the ghost/demon/whatever wants some nasty, dirty clothes, who am I to say no? It can have them.
    I still go over there, although I have made stronger attempts to have any sleepovers held at my own apartment. When I do go over there, all the kids sleep together in one room, and I make my sister sleep in whatever room that I am in; we use the buddy system. No one goes anywhere alone! And I make sure that the damn laundry room door is shut. I can't handle looking into that room.
   But if any of us ever start exhibiting signs of possession, that laundry room needs to be investigated first. 

Scary Movie Nights

   My sister and I love to be afraid, but we hate to be afraid alone. Hence the birth of scary movie nights, which are nights where we stay over at the other's apartment, let the kids run rampant in their rooms, fix a nice dinner for everyone, and let the terror begin. Except, some nights there is not much terror, because horror is really a hit-or-miss genre. Some of the stuff we have watched was really, incredibly stupid. Lose IQ stupid. We are dumber people for watching those movies, literally.
   But some nights we do find the hit. And then it's awesome, because there is nothing better then sister-baiting after a good scary movie. After Paranormal Activity, every time there was a strange noise, I took great joy in telling my sister that it must have been Katie. We watched that movie when we still lived together, and in the apartment we lived in, we had a funny burner on the stove range. When you would put a pan on this burner, the pan would slide off. Sometimes not right away either; sometimes the pan would wait until it was full of hot food and then slide off, and I swore up and down to my sister that this was the work of the demon from Paranormal Activity.
    After Sinister, waiting for my sister in the car to take the kiddos to karate, she came up and asked who was sitting in the driver's seat. We all replied no one, because no one was, but she insisted that she had seen someone, so I took the opportunity to lay the blame at Mr. Boogie's feet. She didn't even want to get into the car after that.
   Recently, we watched Mama, and as I came back into the room after spending time getting ready for bed in the bathroom, as she was just drifting off into dreamland, I leaned over and whispered softly into her ear,  "Momma." Which earned me my favorite reaction yet, her sitting up in bed and shrieking "GOD DAMMIT, Marie!!!!" My sister is a really loud person, with a voice that carries, so I would not be surprised if all my neighbors heard her lovely sentiment as they drifted off to slumber land themselves.
   These are the best moments for me; the awesome moments that really make all that family time really worthwhile. Sister-baiting is the greatest entertainment in the universe. Of course, the strangest thing of all is how my sister gets so frightened in the first place, because she doesn't actually give her complete attention to the movie playing. During the scariest part of any movie that we watch, if you look over at her to see her reaction, you will notice that she is not looking at the screen at all. She will be on her computer playing facebook games, glancing at me to get my reaction so that she can tell when the worst is over.

...

...

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There are no words for that.

   

The Dolls With Big Eyes

They are looking at me. 

   I was vacuuming my apartment, a shocker, I know, but I have company coming so I wanted everything to be nice. I started on my daughter's bedroom, and something was bothering me. I was jumpy and kinda freaked, but at first I wasn't sure why. Then it hit me. The dolls. Their eyes were following me all around the room. Everywhere I moved, those big eyes seemed to be looking straight at me.
   Ever tried vacuuming a room under that kind of stress? Not easy, but I know myself, and I know that no freaky doll eyes are really following me. I can't shake the feeling of being watched though, and I keep glancing nervously at the dolls, which sit on my daughter's desk. My daughter has a workstation bed, which is similar to a bunk bed, but with a desk area on the bottom instead of a lower bunk, and the bed on top, which is full size. She sleeps, every single night, with these dolls right beneath her. And the fact that she has placed them on her precious desk means that they have some value to her, so I can't go chunk them in the trash bin outside, which has crossed my mind.

The root of this fear. 

   Besides, they aren't doing anything right now, but what if throwing them in the trash bin sets them on a murderous rampage? Nuh-uhh! I am not messing with those dolls, but I don't take my eyes off of them the entire time I am vacuuming the room. And I am glad that my daughter is not here to witness her mother's fruit cake freak-out. Because I know good and well that there is nothing alive about those  dolls, and their eyes just seem to be following me because doll makers use big ass eyes in dolls. The problem in not the dolls. The problem is that I watched Chucky to many damn times. But I love to be freaked out, and I can never seem to help myself when I come across a scary movie. I have to watch it. This is the price that  I pay, I guess. I have to freak out about things like murderous dolls, evil furbies, possessed furniture, gremlins, and witch's knifes. I need to stop watching all that supernatural mumbo-jumbo, but I can't help myself! I have two freak-out flicks planned to watch with my sister this very night, and I'm just gonna ignore those big-eyed dolls in the next room. Bring on the fear!!!