Back to Ghoul

This is an odd week. Labor Day. Kid’s back to school on Tuesday (Little Bear in preschool) and Thursday (Big Bear enters first grade!). Hopefully I can get back to my normal schedule of posting and visiting blogs next week. Last night I woke up at 2 a.m. in a panic because I couldn’t remember if we had Little Bear’s nap mat or if it was still at her school from last year.

The nap mat was in the basement. Elementary, my dear Watson. Except when I went to look, the basement door was outside, a three-by-three square for a house I didn’t own. A man stood by, a friend I'd never met, who refused to accompany me. It’s too evil, he said. Fear coated the back of my throat and made my legs feel brittle and light. The dread was excruciating, like the ending of the Blair Witch Project—hurdling through an old, abandoned building toward an unknown death.

I went in anyway. The basement was enormous; the ceilings were low. Several small children scampered around too quickly to be human, their eyes dark hollows. They multiplied. First ten, then twenty, thirty, fifty. Some were playing, others urged me to look at monstrous Halloween projects they’d made—screaming pumpkins, twisted logs. The problem was, I couldn’t keep my eyes on all of them. I couldn’t keep track as some put down their lollypops and picked up hatchets.

I never found the nap mat in the dream basement. I’m pretty sure it’s still at her school. At least, I hope it is. I don't want to go into my basement today. No telling what could be waiting for me.