Summit Up 9-13-09
Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column that’s afraid
of the dark.
We sleep with the television on a 120-minute sleep timer, on a Spanish-speaking channel. We’re a bit rusty on that language and figure the brain could use the late-night refresher courses.
TV has proven a worthy tool for keeping that brain out of more sinister terrain.
The trouble began more than a month ago, when our roomie, Thom’s soul was temporarily overtaken by some heinous spirits.
Devoid of consciousness, his body was drawn to Stan’s room. Thom stood above the sleeping Stan, arms outstretched, until Stan awoke.
Stan was scared out of his wits and has since replaced the entire door with one that locks with a key.
On the night of the heinous spirits, Thom proceeded down a curving staircase and stood for a while above a woman who snoozed on a couch.
The woman awoke with fright, and the walker left, only to return moments later. Nobody awakened the sleeping walker, because everyone knows that’s a terrible idea.
The walker awakened downstairs, in an awkward position the next morning with no recollection.
The next night, Stan found a mouse in his room. He trapped it.
A couple weeks later, Stan was taking a snooze and someone opened his door. A cat ran out.
Stan sleeps on the second floor and doesn’t have a cat – and he didn’t recall the presence of the cat during his rest.
Mouse traps have been triggering themselves lately, as well.
There’s a crucifix on Stan’s wall that has been there since move-in day. It appears handmade from some sort of metal.
Nobody’s laid a finger on it.
Noises periodically erupt from Stan’s room to the ears of people watching television downstairs. But they happen when Stan’s not home.
We’ve burned a few sacrifices in the backyard, but that doesn’t seem to have discouraged the demons.
Our latest plan involves a living-room wall rededicated as a shrine of holy memorabilia that includes pictures, sculptures and instruments representing a variety of faiths.
We’re not too optimistic, though.
We’ve dealt with restless souls before and they always seem to win.
There was this one place where we finally just started ignoring the heavy feet pacing the wooden floors at the foot of our bed.
We’d politely close back the cabinet doors after they’d all strangely opened and were always quick to plunge the shower drain at the first sign of possession.
Friends of ours have seen ghosts. We’ve gotten a whiff of ’em but never had any sort of visual ghost experience.
As the overcast days and brightened aspen leaves transition our mountain home toward winter, we can feel the ghosts of Halloween past tugging at our insides.
An onslaught of scary movies are slated for release in the coming months, but we won’t be going to them.
Nearly every contemporary horror flick we’ve caught has just been a gorefied regurgitation of something we’ve seen before.
Why do horror films have so many sequels? Because the fans get a rise out of kicking a
There are nearly 10 movies in the “Halloween” franchise, and you know what they’re calling the new one? “Halloween II.”
Not original. Not correct. Not worth our weight in sharp objects.
Real kicks come from movies produced before the DVD player. Since the late ’90s, only a handful were worth our time.
And when we say time, we don’t mean money. These are movies we borrowed from pals or just picked off Netflix on a whim.
“28 Days Later” was good.
It’s Sunday and we’ve got our shoulder-mounted camcorder rolling as we wander our house and garage in the dusk, hoping to capture something we can sell like “The Blair Witch Project” to gullible people willing to make us richer than the demons in our attic, or Stan’s room.
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