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Dark Writerly Places

There are times when my mind travels to a dark place. This may not be surprising unless you know me. I tend to steer clear of horror or scary movies. My favorite movies are comedies, specifically romantic comedies. I enjoy watching sitcoms on TV. I read romances. I write light-hearted, HEA, love stories.

Yet… I have a half drafted horror story on my laptop. I started it years ago and plan to finish it, one day. And now I have another idea for something dark brewing in the distant crevices of my mind.

To best explain, I need to take you on a journey of how it began. The thought itself stems from a real life incident. So let us begin with the dreaded prologue:

The cold basement was musky and not at all inviting, yet down I went to tackle the overflowing laundry. The washer had stopped and the wet clothes transferred to the dryer. Settings adjusted and the button pressed. Only the sound wasn’t right. A thudding noise echoed. Crap, how am I getting my clothes dry?

I let my husband know about the sound and he bolted up and raced down. He explained he and our young son were down in the basement during a storm a few days prior and heard what sounded like an animal in the vents.

I stand still, debating how to best handle the wet clothes, wondering if something was about to run across my feet, as my husband detached the aluminum tubing. He shook and…

A dead rodent fell to the floor.

My heart leapt into my chest. I screamed. The floor turned into lava and I jumped before running out of the basement. Total over reacting. But the creepy crawly feeling would allow me no other response.

Fortunately my husband did not behave like a little girl and brought the poor dead rodent into the words. I tried to share in his sorrow, but I was still freaked and now tiptoed around the basement, still waiting for something live to jump out and bite me.

(long prologue over)

So, flash ahead a few weeks. The sun is shining, the day is beautiful, and I’m walking up the path to my home with my son. Buzzing flies catch my attention. I stand still, let my eyes focus, and what do I see? Another dead rodent. Not sure what this one was, much smaller than the last, all curled up and starting to decompose. I guide my son away from the rodent and text my husband.

Poor husband is busy, so the next day the rodent is still there (apparently the wildlife haven’t deemed the rodent adequate for consumption). As I locked up the front door my mind starts to wander. The day is gorgeous, blue skies, warm weather, the perfect false safety net. The perfect beginning of something sinister. Is this someone getting back at us for the first dead rodent? Some sort of nature’s revenge?

If another dead animal appears, you can bet I’ll be soiling myself. And quite possibly moving. And writing my warped fears down.

Let’s pray there are no more dead rodents. I fear for the cute little bunny that hops around my home!

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