Confession time, you guys: sometimes when I hear a weird noise or creak in my apartment, I automatically think it’s a ghost. Most of the time, this attribution is my attempt at trying to inject a little excitement into my life rather than an actual belief that a spirit decided to shack up. But on Wednesday night, karma decided to screw with me, and I honestly thought I was going to have a starring role in Paranormal Activity 4: You Wanted a Ghost, Now You’ve Got It! Good Luck Surviving, Dumbass.
I was sitting on my couch reading a book, when I heard the noise at my back door. It sounded like a light scratching noise, followed by a shuffling sound. Before I had a dog, I would always chalk up the supposed “weird” noises I heard to either figments of my over-active imagination, or to just ordinary building noises. But having a dog that alerts on everything is kind of a good confirmation of your sanity. If I hear a noise and Ava doesn’t do anything, then it’s just a figment of my imagination. If I hear a noise and Ava alerts, then I know the sound is real and I’m not a crazy lady who hears imaginary things. And judging from the fact that she was growling and sniffing like she was trying to peel the paint off the door after I heard the noise, I was confident that it was real. And of course, it had to be a ghost. Because that’s logical.
I tried to ignore it and continued to read my book. Then I heard it again, and Ava started growling. For a brief moment, I thought that maybe the noise was a sign from God that I should stop reading my book (it’s the one written by Father Alberto Cutie), and I briefly felt guilty. Then I got over it and figured that if God really wanted me to stop reading the book, He would strike me with lightning or set the book on fire, all burning bush-style. So I went back to my ghost theory, and again tried to ignore the noise. I figured if I didn’t give the ghost any attention, it would get bored and leave.
I heard the noise again. This time, I decided to peek out the window to see who–or what– was out there. In a horror movie, this behavior would probably put me on the fast-track to a vicious gutting and dismemberment by an inbred, toothless hillbilly who complements me on the quality of my bones while doing the job. But since this was not a horror film, I was confident that wouldn’t happen despite the fact that the noise was probably a ghost or a demon waiting for the chance to the invade my body, all Exorcist-like.So, armed with nothing more than the weird, misplaced confidence that I wouldn’t get murdered, I walked over to the window, peeked through the blinds–
–and nothing. There was nothing to see. Now I was absolutely positive it was a ghost or demon spawn. Again, I picked up my book and tried to ignore it. I heard it again. My heart pounded with alarm. I heard it again. I grew defiant, determined to kick some supernatural ass. How dare ghosts and demons fuck around with my otherwise pleasant Wednesday night?! I’ll show them! I heard it again, and this time, it was louder, really scratching against my door. Determined to put an end to the shenanigans, I walked over to the door, threw it open, and confronted my “ghost:” a coupon door hanger. I had taken the one off my front door, but didn’t even think to check the back. It was a windy night, so the wind was blowing the hanger, which caused the scratching and shuffling sounds against the door. And the last noise I heard, the loud one, was the sound of the door hanger falling off.
Had this been a horror film, my opening the door would definitely have seen me get shot in the face or choked out by a psychotic zombie clown or something. But since it was real life, I meekly picked up the door hanger and went back to reading my book, glad that my ordinary Wednesday night saw at least a few minutes of excitement. Even if it was all in my head.