1 post tagged “scary”

Tonight, after our wonderful time at Kamp's drew to a close, we had quite an adventure. As I was savoring my pizza from Hideaway (thanks Ben), I noticed the sky outside lit up from time to time with flashes of lightening. With perhaps a too-casual attitude, I shrugged off the lightening. Must not interrupt dinner for something as petty as a thunderstorm.

As I stood up, gathered my things, and neared the door, I noticed a group of people lingering. The door swung open on a breeze and I felt the electricity on the wind. It was only then, that I realized they were lingering because we were on the cusp of a storm. Someone somewhere tuned in to the local news station to get an update on the weather and a disembodied voice via the speakers that had recently carried our praise and worship music began giving an account of some tornado activity.

I couldn't contain my excitement.

I LOVE this season! I can't explain why, but I do, and as that wind whipped through the door and left its damp, tingling kisses on my cheeks I felt like I was greeting an old friend again.

While we waited for more news, a friend and first-time visitor to our Kamp's Gathering asked if I knew where the bathroom was. Well, having made numerous trips to that particular location, I told her I would take her there. We made a long trip (and it is a long trip) around the deli counter to the end of a hallway, where I stopped and pointed the way to the shiny red door at the opposite end of a long stretch of darkness. It reminded me of those ridiculous, scary movie scenes where the audience would normally yell at the hero/heroine "Don't go in there!"

Upon seeing how far away from civilization she would have to walk to relieve her bladder, my friend turned to me with near desperation and said, "Would you mind staying with me? I don't want to be alone in case the electricity goes out while I'm back here."

"Sure!" I said. When what I really thought was, Surely the electricity won't go out at the precise moment you close yourself into that dinky room at the back of this really big, slightly scary, dark-except-for-the-one-light-bulb-over-the-sink, leaky warehouse. I was so certain as to the tenacity of our hold on electrical power that I allowed my four-year-old son, Beaux, to accompany me.

Beaux and I chattered happily for a moment while my friend went into the bathroom. Less than a moment after she closed the door, a clap of thunder marked the end of our grasp on electricity and ALL YOU-KNOW-WHAT BROKE LOOSE!!! Beaux's terrified scream was matched in strength and passion by another scream from inside the bathroom, and as he tore down the dark hall toward even more shadowy nothingness, I had only seconds to make up my mind. Do I stay here with my poor friend like she asked me to, or do I grab my poor child and attempt to bring him back to some semblance of sanity?!?!

I hesitated for a moment, but then I realized that if he kept running, Beaux would eventually reach that group of people huddled in the main part of the building, although he would be stark raving mad when he got there. My poor friend was probably still fumbling for toilet paper in the darkness, and only upon finding that toilet paper would she be able to forgo the usual washing of hands and feel her way back down a path she had only traveled once, while frightened out of her wits.

I opted to stand there by the bathroom door and call out to Beaux, begging him to return to the place of his frightful experience so that I could console him while we waited. I have never seen my son so wild with fear. I heard his little feet pounding away from me toward the battery-operated emergency light halfway down the hall. He passed under that light with the intent of reaching...I don't know what, but then stopped when he realized he was passing what must have been the only source of light for the entire building. I watched him freaking out in that puddle of light, and all I could do was call him back to me like a little puppy.

My calm, cool, and collected voice must have finally broken through to him around the 68th ear-piercing shriek, because he came running back to me with his hands over his ears and tears already soaking his cheeks. I grabbed him under his little arms and held him close, whispering words of encouragement and, yes, a little reassurance from Psalm.

The whole incident only took a few moments (seriously, who would have stayed back there for any longer than was absolutely necessary?), but it seemed like FOREVER! As I lifted Beaux into my arms, the bathroom door opened and I asked the poor soul who had been caught unawares during such a vulnerable time, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, "But, I'm trying to buckle my pants." And sure enough, I could hear she was telling the truth.

Of course, since we were both of the opinion that she could walk and buckle, we bolted.

I have to say, if I ever star as the heroine in a poorly-plotted scary movie, I promise to heed the pleading of the audience when they warn, "Don't go in there!" If I am ever that heroine, I'm sure they will all thank me for sparing them from the scary part of the movie.