There’s a reason my curtains are drawn when it gets dark. For the majority of people the idea that those inside with the lights on are highly visible to any passing observer outside is unnerving enough. An added unwelcome effect is catching reflections of your movement in a room when you’re not expecting to. All windows transform into black mirrors at night. I’ve startled myself this way when I’d neglected to pull the shades. I no longer abide naked dark windows for a completely other excuse though.

Around age 13 I was deemed old enough to stay home when my parents went to their prayer meetings at night. My older sisters were all grown & moved out, our dog Minx had passed 2 years prior. So I would be the sole occupant inside. Warned by Poppie ‘don’t burn down the house’ & other stuff parents say, I planned many unhealthy snacks & entertainment. The following event happened not on the first night I got to rule the roost (the tv), but my independence was still fresh.

Though not a particularly scary show, I was watching Night Gallery. It was a series hosted by Rod Serling, similar to The Twilight Zone but updated & in color. The episode that night had 3 parts. One of which involved a mask & was based on an H. P. Lovecraft story. The tone was more eerie than anything else. Though I wasn’t spooked per se, I was to the point of suggestibility.

Lights were turned off throughout the house, all but the living room, to create atmosphere. We lived in a split-level, big box of a house, the corner lot of a cul-de-sac. The kitchen was off the living room, a sundeck off the kitchen had stairs outside leading down to the backyard. This was before the backyard was fenced, which oddly happened after Minx was no longer living. People often let their dogs roam in those days, a time when we knew who the one crabby neighbor was. Now almost everyone’s the crabby neighbor. An exact correlation to unsustainable population. The show was between the 2nd & 3rd story segments when I needed more chips.

At the door to the kitchen I reached around inside & turned on the light. Across the room, in the window over the sink, was a face peering in. & not just any face. A ghoulish, skeletal face was staring right at me. No, it was not my reflection. After I jumped & emitted a (I want to say) gasp (but it was more like a scream), I saw my horror-stricken face reflected beside it. This transpired in the nanoseconds before I flung myself back into the living room.

Scanning the room for something, I charged to the fireplace & hefted the poker. Then listened intently for the back door opening, glass breaking, anything. An unsettling silence ensued save for the buzz of the tv with its sound turned all the way down. I congratulated myself for the need to spare my ears of noxious commercials. Frozen in place for many moments, I finally did hear a faint noise. That made it worse. It resembled slow motion laughing. Or labored breathing. Then it stopped.

Standing in the middle of the living room at the ready with the poker was never going to last long term. Our upstairs phone was in the kitchen, on the wall by the back door. Also, there was no way for me to get to any other rooms without passing the kitchen. I briefly considered opening one of the living room windows, hanging out & dropping the 4 ft or so to the ground. Then running…where? I’d be locked out of the house, outside with the creep in the mask. I was going to have to show some spine. But first I wanted to check if the peeping tom was still on our sundeck, as surreptitiously as possible.

For some inane reason I thought it’d be better to peek around the doorway from on the floor. There was a large chair against that wall, about 2 ft from the doorway. I had to contort myself to get in this space on the floor, still clutching the poker, just to catch a quick glimpse. The face was absent, yet that didn’t exactly put me at ease. I almost wished it was still there. Then I would know where it was. Now it could be anywhere.

For the remainder of the evening I sat with the fireplace poker across my lap, the tv soundless. I couldn’t even eat snacks because the crunching was too loud. I waited until my parents came in the house before I put the poker away. My mother asked me what I was doing with the firepoker. I was just about to tell her the saga when I suddenly accessed a memory file.

Once Minx was gone, I befriended some of the neighbors’ free-range dogs on our block. A couple would come into our yard to play & get ear scritches. The home at the end of our dead end street had a dog named Tiller. Shy initially, she eventually warmed up to me. Her whole household was gone during the day & she was left by herself outside. We filled a void in each other, I guess. Time passed, my grief became less intense, & I gradually stopped hanging out with neighbor dogs as much. Apparently Tiller missed our time together.

First she would hang out in our yard. Then she got more bold & would climb the stairs to our sundeck. Eventually she’d jump up on the bench under the kitchen window & look inside. Tiller was a Dalmatian. When Muz was washing dishes one night & glanced up, she almost jumped out of her skin. Tiller’s white face & black spots made her look like a floating skull.

Though relieved to know what I’d seen, I was sorry I’d been neglecting my canine pal to the point where she watched me from afar. I made it a habit to seek her out for a long while after that. As time passed, her muzzle grayed, then one day she wasn’t around. I didn’t know those neighbors well enough to ask, & I didn’t want to intrude on their grief. I knew what it was like to have a home bereft of a family member. Even if she presented a ghoulish face in the dark.