The Witch

A few days ago, I was down in the kitchen referee-ing breakfast, when my sweet little Em padded into the kitchen. Dave usually gets her up before he leaves, and they have a little talk and snuggle, but she had slept a little long, and was just getting up. I scooped her up and started to inquire about her night. She reported sleeping well............ except for the Witch.

"What Witch, Em?"

"The Witch that sits on the end of my bed and watches me sleep."

"Oh........" At this point all the hairs on the back of my neck are freaking out.

"Is she a nice Witch, or a scary Witch?"

It doesn't really matter, I wouldn't care if it was Glenda the Sweetest Freaking Witch ever to come from the East, but I do need to know when to break out the Holy Water.

"A scary Witch. I was cwyin' cause kept trying to talk to her and she was just wookin' at me."

"Um, hmm. Eat your yogurt, and stay here, I will be right back."

Unfortunately, I am very impressionable. I don't watch very many supernatural movies, because I absolutely believe in ghosts, and I never open my eyes to go to the bathroom at night, just in case. I can easily feel my way to the toilet, and feel right through a ghost, but if I were ever to see one, they would have to commit me.

I can't even watch the stupid movie trailers, even as I am backing away from Emma, the cordless phone clutched in one hand and a bottle of minced garlic in the other, I am thinking about the advertisement for 'The Orphan' and shizzing my chaps.

Safely locked in the bathroom, I called Dave. "Um, can you come home right now?"

"Why are you whispering?"

"Emma is really freaking me out right now."

"Oh, is she talking about the Witch that sits on her bed and watches her sleep?"

"......!@$%@!#*^%&!. How long has she been talking about it, and why didn't you tell me?"

"Two weeks, and because you are a freak."

Clearly I am not "a freak", that was very apparent as I sat crouched in the locked bathroom with my minced garlic and the toothbrushes arranged in a cross.

"This is why we build new houses, and not buy old ones, so no dead spirits can haunt us until we find out who killed them, dammit!"

"Well, maybe we built on an ancient Indian burial ground. Have a good day."

And then he was gone, and so was my prospect of ever being able to take a nap in my own haunted house. It took me a few minutes to gather myself, and then I went out to see if Em was holding a seance, communing with the dead, or hopefully just finishing her yogurt.

Luckily, I had a hair appointment, and who better to be a rational sounding board, than your trusted hair dresser. In between foils, she suggested that I gather some photos of our dead relatives, and flash at Em, to see if she recognized the Witch. Sound advice. At least by the time we got home, I was convinced it was a deceased great Aunt or some other loving relative, just wanting to bask in Emma's peaceful beauty sleep. I was relaxed enough to put the garlic back in the fridge, and enjoy a lovely little nap.

That night as I was tucking in Em, I closed her closet door, and it seemed to close a little harder than I thought, and then I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, so I hyper-tucked and got the heck out of there. We left her intercom on so that we would be able to hear her cry or talk in the night, but she slept soundly.

Tonight, as we were getting everyone ready for bed, Dave called to me from Emma's room. As I went in there, he said, he would like to introduce me to the Witch. Emma got a new night light for Christmas, and the shadow it cast against the curve of her sleigh bed, formed a perfect Witch's hat against the wall at the foot of her bed. I said, "That's the Witch?" she nodded and said, "She's just wookin' at me." Dave propped up a pillow against the wall to distort the shadow, and Em happily flipped over, tossed us a kiss, and went to sleep.

Well, I am glad we didn't overreact to that. Pshh. Just a shadow.