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Christine asked us to answer this question, "What was your childhood monster?" I bet most of us would say the Boogie Man. My son was scared of this image he called Spot. I'm saving that story for my book, lol. My daughter was scared of what was beneath her bed, but for me it was all about the
When I was four, I was scared of the Sandman, but at age five the real monster appeared. My Mom had a vanity, with a huge mirror and bench in her bedroom. I loved to watch her put on her make up. She would let me use one of her tiny Avon sample lipsticks, blot some powder on my nose and let me have a spritz of her favorite perfume. One afternoon, she was getting ready, to go with my Dad to a wedding. He was still at work. Mom had a tiny closet with a green curtain, for her special clothes and shoes. I loved trying on her high heels. My favorite pair were her black, patent leather heels with a bit of bling I went to grab them, when I saw my Dad's shoes sticking out. His shoes were pointed out, not in. What were my Dad's shoes doing in Mom's closet?! "Mom, why are Dad's shoes over here." She wasn't paying attention to me. She was busy powdering her nose. I couldn't see anything other than his shoes. Mom's dry cleaning bags bulged out of the closet along with tulle, taffeta and full skirts. I yelled, "Look!"
"What is wrong?" she asked with her brow furrowed.
"Why are Dad's shoes in your closet?"
"I don't know....that is odd." She went back to her vanity, to do her eyes. I knew something was wrong. I had the feeling I was being watched. It looked like someone was in those shoes and they were in my Mom's closet. I was scared. "Mom is Dad home?"
"No, not yet, it is almost time. Ellen, I need to get ready, why don't you go get your dollies."
I had to walk past the shoes, to go get my dolls. I ran into my room, ran back with my dolls and sat on her bed. The shoes looked like they had moved.
"Mom, the shoes moved."
"Ellen, you are imagining it. Come here and let me put some powder on your nose." I hugged my Mom and sat in her lap.
I grabbed her arms and said, "please look in the closet." She went over with me and I kicked the shoes feeling brave. I heard a moan...then hands reached out of the closet like Frankenstein and the shoes started to move. There wasn't a face, only darkness. "Mom, mom.... I grabbed her tight.
"Larry, that is enough." my Mom scolded. It was my Uncle Larry, my Mom's brother visiting us from New Hampshire. He had stopped at the Texaco station and saw my Dad. Dad had given him the house key, so he could surprise my Mom. Larry loved to tease and play practical jokes on everyone, but especially my Mom. Larry had let himself in, while we were doing errands in town. Mom knew he was coming, just didn't know when. He scared the you-know-what-out of me. Yes, genetics did pass the clown gene on to me, but my antics never involve hiding in a closet or underneath a bed. Uncle Larry did make a huge impact on me. Let's just say all of my closets have doors, no curtains for me.
What about you, what was your childhood monster? Did he or she haunt you for years? Are you still scared? Do you kick shoes, like me and run...lol
You can visit here to read others who are participating in the bloghop! Congrats Christine :D