Tales from the Crypt

by Katie Heffring

Well, hello –

How’s it going? Do you have a memory that you’re not sure whether it was from a real happening or a dream? Because maybe it’s from so long ago that things have become a bit blurry – situations a little too tall tale.  Yet, for some reason this memory is very very clear.  Do you know what I’m talking about?  Well, I am going to tell you my little such memory.  A memory from when I was about six years old…and its very scaaaaarrryy

The Eye

Garfield is playing on the tv in my old house.  My six-year-old self is sitting in the family room with a red crayon, determinedly colouring Barbie’s lips on every page of my new Barbie’s Trip to Arizona colouring book, when suddenly I hear my sister’s voice from upstairs –

“KATIEEEE!”

Startled, the red crayon drops from my fingers tips. Not moving an inch, I watch it fall to the floor.

“KATIEEE!”

Oh no! My heart beats like it did the day Danny Covelli told me he liked my French braids. Did my sister find out I cut all the hair off her favourite Barbie and then stashed it under her Cotton Ginny t-shirts?  Or maybe she saw me put her toothbrush pack in the jar after I accidentally dropped it in the toilet? My eyes nearly pop out of my head with fear.

“PHONE!”

“Kay!”  I smile. My tune entirely changes and I run with favor to the nearest phone.  Turns out I’m invited to my friend, Jen’s house to play.  She only lives in the house opposite mine.  We live in a very quiet never-anything-bad-or-exciting-happening crescent in suburbia.

DING DONG!

I wait patiently at Jen’s front door.  After a few minutes, I try again.  But just as I am about to press the bell, the door slowly creaks open.  I can hear Jen and her older sister’s voices down the hall, but can’t see them.  I enter the house anyway.

“They’re in tv room,” a voice growls.

I jump about two feet in the air.  The dad is standing half-way behind the door.  A grain of rice rolls around in his mouth as he smiles at me.  He has always kind-of frightened me.  I don’t say anything, but just nod and continue down the hall.  The dad follows me.

The girls are playing with a cardboard box set on its side.  Jen is outside the box looking through a little carved out peep-hole about the size of a quarter.  Her older sister is inside the box ducking down then slowly creeping up until her eye looks in the peep-hole at the same time as Jen’s. This seems strange to me, but they are giggling uncontrollably so it must be fun.  The dad sits down on the couch and opens a book.  He begins to read.  But before he does, he says, “Sara don’t you have homework to do?”

Sara sighs and gets up, “I guess.”  She leaves the room and mumbles, “Hi, Katie.”

I wave back at her.

“Katie, come try this!” Jen smiles.

“Okay, so we both duck down and then try to guess when the other person is looking through the hole.  We have to try to look through the hole at the same time,” she explains matter-of-factly.  “How about you get in the box?”

“Okay,” I whisper as I kneel down, and crawl into the box.

We begin to play the game.  Turns out it is really fun.  Before I know it, I’m in fits of laughter too.  How can an old cardboard box be so enjoyable!

And then, one time, Jen makes her eye roll around and around really fast.  It’s crazy! And I say, “Hey, how did you do that?”

And when no one answers, I look back at the peep-hole and the pupil keeps rolling around and I say again nervously laughing, “Hey! Jen? How did you do that?”

But when I look up, I see Jen’s not there.  “Jen?”

Her dad puts down his book and says, “I think she went to the bathroom.”

“But whose eye was that?” I ask.

“What are you talking about?” I notice the grain of rice again as he speaks.

I say nothing and he returns to his book.  I walk to down the hall.  “Jen?”

The front door is still open.  A cold shiver runs down my spine.  I sprint home as fast as my legs can go.  I can hear Jen calling my name, but I don’t turn back.