Last night, Wes and I were chatting in our kitchen. Aidan was playing on the floor, which for him means slamming toys down on the hardwood floor and hurling them every which way. I thought I heard a knock at our door, but discounted it as I was sure it was just the sound of Aidan playing.
I heard the knocking again, however, and asked Wes if he heard knocking. He replied that he’d heard nothing, so I, not even breaking the flow of conversation, went to the front door and opened it, fully expecting to see no one there.
I didn’t see no one. I saw a ghost.
I screamed. Bloody murder, someone-just-jumped-out-at-me-from-beneath-a-creepy-staircase kind of scream, and ran away, screaming all the while. When I came back to my senses, I saw our utterly perplexed neighbor standing at our door while Aidan and Wes just kind of gaped at me from the kitchen. Of course, this prompted me to dissolve into shrill, hysterical giggles, which did nothing to assuage my neighbor’s certainty that I had, indeed, lost my mind.
You see, our front door has a glass storm door in front of it. It was dark outside, and brightly lit inside, so when I opened the door the light reflected off the storm door and all I could see outside was my neighbor’s disambiguated face floating outside. So of course I assumed he was a ghost.
If you could have seen the look on his face though when I opened the door, took one look at him, and ran away screeching…My goodness! He may never come over again, but I can’t help the fact that ghosts are terrifying! If you’d seen a ghost outside your house, you would’ve screamed too.
I do wonder what it says about my state of mind that my first thought was that he was a ghost.