Familiar Oddities

I have always had such a curiosity about all the oddities in the world. Which led me to many experiences that led to just as odd explanations. One that will forever haunt me is the day that I truly saw what was not there.

A day like any other. Carefree. Happy. Unassuming. Joy and I had been practicing our song writing and singing at our local church (which mind you was the epitome of eerily unsettling churches) by ourselves. With the trust of the pastor we had been given a key to come practice with the instruments, although we mainly came for the guitar and piano. Our perfect duet together.

The reverberations of our voices, strums of the guitar and plucking of the keys on the piano echoed through the empty hall. A hall normally packed with bright eyed church goers, bible wielders, and tithing envelopes. My heart never saw the appeal of church, except for the acceptance of my mother.

Talking about my mother. She was a woman with many stories about the very place Joy and I were alone at. Strange stories. Truly unbelievable stories. Not in a church though? Surely out of all places so called ghosts are supposed to haunt, a church can’t be one of them? Early morning prayers for her turned into her running out in fear. In the silence of her prayers, she would hear loud banging against the windows. Gradually getting louder until she just couldn’t take it anymore and had to search the scene. To make sure that it wasn’t anyone from this world, and indeed someone from the next. Windows. The drums. Doors. The hall would echo with sounds and music from the other kind.

I never believed my mother. I just assumed she knew I was “into” things of this sort and wanted to connect with her teenage daughter in any way possible. Until this day. This unassuming day.

After practicing meticulously, a well deserved break was needed. A snack. A drink. A quick trip to the ladies room. Oh the ladies room. The bane of my exsistance.

As a child, the older teens of the church had shoved me in there while the adults were so consumed with their worship they had failed to notice that their wonderful sons and daughters maybe weren’t as wonderful as they had thought. Chanting “Bloody Mary! Bloody Mary! Bloody Mary!” as I was scared senseless. Afraid that she would be crawling out of the mirror from her reality to mine. Hearing the laughter of the teens. The taunting of their words. Calling me a baby. Saying she was coming for me. After that moment, entering a bathroom and looking at the mirror was difficult for me to say the least. Sure, nothing happened. I lived. Bloody Mary didn’t come to get me. Crisis averted. And yet, that moment changed my life for far to many years to count.

Where was I again? Oh yeah, my well deserved break. The bathroom. I walked in, looking in every stall out of habit and fear of the “just in case” purpose that someone unknown was in there with me. But it was all clear. I was alone. Sitting there, I hear the door open and heard Joy slip into the stall next to mine. Striking up a casual conversation with her with no response. Strange. But not unheard of. Bending over to pick up my pants around my ankles I look over and see a pair of shoes to my right, under the next stall. Joy.

As I flush, and get ready to exit it is then that I notice…no Joy. No more feet under the stall next to me. Not one other person is in the bathroom with me, and yet I knew what I saw. Or did I?

The memories from my childhood flood back to me as I remember that evening the teenagers taunted me with “Bloody Mary”. Was she coming for me? Was I imaging things from the subconscious fear of that restroom in particular?

Who knows?

Just one more oddity in the world. With just another odd explanation.