Come Play With Me, Mommy...Forever...and Ever...and Ever...

Evil little movie kids spook me out, man. Think of The Exorcist, The Sixth Sense, The Other, and of course, The Shining and you'll know what I mean.

The movie that creeped me out to the point that I lost sleep was The Ring. I rented it one weekend when John was out of town. After the movie was over, I thought, "Whoo. That was the best movie scare I've had in a while."

Then it was time for bed.

Every time I closed my eyes I kept seeing that girl come out of the well and creep toward me with her weird, jerky movements. I kept imagining that if I got out of bed and walked down the darkened hallway, she would be there in the dark with her hair all covering her face. Or that if I went down the stairs, she would be behind me to push me. ("Clinically insane" is such a strong term. I prefer to think of myself as having an "active imagination.")

I turned the TV back on and watched MTV and infomercials to try to keep myself from imagining that little girl standing just outside the door. I think I finally fell asleep at dawn.

When John came home the next day, he noticed that I looked like hell. I told him I hadn't slept because I had watched a scary movie, but I didn't tell him the plot. He just laughed at me and was all like "Daddy's home now."

A few days later, I was using the computer in our bonus room when John walked in.
"I had a weird experience the other day," he started, and gestured toward the large child's playhouse that was in the bonus room at the time.

"I was walking across the room toward the window, when I could have sworn I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a small child moving in the playhouse. But when I looked, there was nothing there."

My blood ran cold. "A...s-s-s-small child?" I knew John wasn't punking me, because I hadn't told him the plot of The Ring, or even the title. Plus, John, unlike me, is not clinically insane...I mean, he does not have an active imagination.

"Yeah, weird, huh?"

Breathlessly, I told him about The Ring, and about the scene in which one of the characters sees something moving behind her in the reflection of the TV screen. And about how they would die in seven days! And…

John just looked at me and chuckled. “Boy, that movie really got to you huh? I guess I shouldn’t go out of town anymore so you won’t rent any more scary movies.” He gave me a little hug and kiss on the cheek.

Of course, we didn’t die horrible deaths in seven days. But the playhouse is outside in the backyard now. If a pale little girl with long, straggly hair comes out of it, at least I won’t see it.