I guess I sort of gave it away in the title...but guess anyway!
In the spirit of Halloween, I couldn't resist capturing this shot while visiting my friends at a neighboring fashion house during Paris Fashion Week. Leave it to me to take a ruffly spring ready-to-wear dress and twist it into something dark, by way of masterminds Stanley Kubrick and Stephen King.
So on top of the many random facts you know about me, I'll add another to the pile; I'm a pretty big horror movie fan. Not in like a Rob Zombie kind of way where I have posters and collectibles around my apartment. Just in the way that I enjoy the suspense, jump scenes and when the movie's annoying chick - because every horror film has one (Rose McGowan, anyone?) - gets slashed. Growing up with all boys, as well as having to share a room in our small Manhattan apartment with my older brother where a poster of Freddy Kruger was on "his side of the room" (that by default looked on to mine) has created a strange comfort in a these gory flicks.
Part of my Halloween countdown (a day that's not celebrated as "festively" in France as it is in the States with all its sluts and gore), I have set up a strict schedule of horror films that are on a need-to-be seen basis before October 31st. Your typical classics can be found on my list: Scream, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (both original and Biel version), A Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Dawn of the Dead, and When A Stranger Calls, are helping me in my attempt to make each night just a little more jumpy than normal....
While I don't have any personal slasher stories to tell you (which I'm pretty sure is a good thing, right?) I do have one ghost story in my pocket. Nothing too scary, I promise...just a little weird.
Picture it. Long Island. 1996.
My mother, brother and I were staying out at my grandmother's house on Long Island while the bathroom at our place was getting renovated. My mother was out to dinner with my grandparents and my brother was out being a teenager, presumably listening to Phish and taking bong hits at Jason Eisenberg's house up the street. It was just me in a large house filled with echoes, old plumbing, and lots of history.
Even though it was 7 pm, after a hot shower and a cup of chamomile, I was ready to turn in for bed. I know, what 15 year old goes to bed at 7 pm? On this particular night; me. I was tired, not in my own home with my own things, there was nothing on television, plus, the internet wasn't what it is today. So really nothing was forcing me to stay up.
Before crawling into bed, I shoved a glob of wax in my back top molars to coat the wires that my orthodontist didn't cut short enough, and that were viciously scarring my back gums. With much effort, I pulled down the sheets on the bed with its straight-jacket tight hospital corners. I then popped my Fiona Apple tape in white Sony boombox, turned the lights off, and stared at the ceiling. Thoughts of my first ever boyfriend that I had met the weekend before at a Ween show came to mind, as I waited to fall asleep. I was pretty excited about him. I couldn't believe that this cute guy with similar interests as me actually wanted to date me and perhaps even make out with me, braces and all. Just as I was drawing up a mental list of upcoming shows we could go to together, I felt someone sit down on the bed beside me. I assumed it was my grandparent's cat "Tammy Girl" wanting to nestle up next to me on this chilly night, and with that in mind, I reached my hand down to pet her. Well. My hand did not fall on soft, fluffy dove gray Tammy Girl fur. It dropped down heavily like a weight onto the bed. Ummm, Tammy Girl? How'd you do that? I turned on the light and while Tammy Girl was not there, what was, was the imprint of the bed as if someone was still sitting on it. After several seconds in complete shock, perhaps even horror, looking at the bed still in this form, and I hightailed out of there so fast. I didn't even care that my favorite part, the gypsy-esque ending of "Criminal" was playing, and I waited in the kitchen until someone came home. There was no way that I was going back up in that room to hang out with my bedside buddy....even if it was a deceased family member. I wasn't into it.
What felt like an hour in the kitchen that suddenly become freezing cold, my brother came through the back kitchen door, with Tammy Girl trailing behind him with a leaf stuck to her paw. I recounted what I saw, and I wasn't sure if it was because he wasn't exactly processing what I was saying, or if he was just really stoned but the only response I got was a "whoa, dude" as he shoved a piece of homemade onion focaccia in his mouth.
Very helpful.
I never did get to the bottom of what happened that night. How could I? Gratefully, I never had a follow-up occurrence and am not sure if I ever will. I can't say that I'm exactly looking for one. Up until that moment, I had never really considered the paranormal or its validity, but now I know that anything is possible...especially on Halloween. Mwuahahahahaha!
Bon week-end à tous!
What about you? Have you had any freaky experiences?