My husband and I have lived in this house for a few weeks now. John and I still have boxes littering each room with “Liz”, “John” and “Amy” scribbled haphazardly across them in varying degrees or dried sharpie. Extra boxes linger in corners labelled “Grandma: to keep” and “Grandma: for Mum” etcetera. The box before me is filled with her old books; she has everything from Reading Tealeaves to The Famous Five. I sort through them; The Woman in Black; a nondescript cracked spine; Wuthering Heights; a cookbook on artichoke (of all things)… As I flick through the seemingly random array of novels, cookbooks and strange leather-bound oddities, I can’t help but wonder whether she read them all. In a house in the middle of nowhere; I suppose she did like to read.
I can hear the wind whistle through the branches. It slashes and thrashes at my body. The leaves in the trees move in a swift brush, almost like hair. I can hear crickets sing and birds harmonizing. So beautiful.
In early 2004 I had an experience that left me fearing for my life. At the time my family was away and I was making the most of the time alone with a marathon internet session. At this point, broadband was not generally available in Queanbeyan and we used dial up. We had two phone lines so we could make and receive calls with one whilst being online with the other. To make calls we typically used a portable phone that would need to be charged via the base unit every so often. On this occasion, I had the phone sitting next to me whilst surfing online. At a little after midnight I decided that nobody was likely to be calling and I decided to take the phone downstairs to charge it.
"I want to suck your blood!"
Who would have thought that I would see the damn bug? But I did. I swear I did. When I walked into the kitchen, it was there, standing on the can of soup that was to be my meal for that night. It had been delivered the day before with some other items by the grocery store. Since I am compelled to stay inside, I do my shopping through the internet. You know, when one fight with his computer for hours to create a list of what he needs. And he must wait a week to get the stuff dispatched where he lives. Only to realize that half of what he asked for is missing.
Lucia, in her black dress, was always mourning her husband. He had died of some mysterious disease. The doctor’s could not figure it out, really. It was finally said that he died of some type of rabies. She didn’t care about any explanation. She was overwhelmed with his sudden absence after a flurry of madness with his behavior right before losing his life.
Everything began after to moving into my new house. Definitely, that is pretty unoriginal. Trust me, I know, yet it's what occurred. I never experienced anything powerful, and I never truly anticipated that anything this bad could happen to me.
“Tell me. What is it you fear most?” the shapeless creature asked, “I want the joy of feasting on your terror.”
Hands up if you love vampires! That’s what I thought. The blood-sucking undead doesn’t even love themselves. I’d know, I’ve seen the movies. In Dracula’s own words right there in Stephen Sommers’s Van Helsing movie; ‘NO! I have no heart, I feel no love. Nor fear, nor joy, nor sorrow. I am hollow… and I will live forever.’ Who would love such a loveless hollow creature?
I’m never good at starting a discussion about the Jeepers Creepers franchise. There are so many ways to frame that particular conversation and, as someone who has all three movies in his collection, I’m probably having that conversation more than the global average.