“That’s weird” my dad said as he tried to open our garage door for the fifth time by typing our code into the panel. I heard my mom groan as we watched as the garage door remained closed even as my dad persisted in trying, yet again. I wrapped my arms around my chest and shivered a little. It was a cold, windy, saturday night in September and my parents and I had just Gotten home. We had enjoyed a delicious dinner before returning home to find that our garage door was no longer working. “I think I have a extra key with me” my mom said as she began scavenging through her purse. After about five minutes, relief flooded my mom's face as a shiny silver key emerged from her purse. “I guess we won’t need a locksmith tonight” I said.
“Click” I unlocked the door and we entered our house, escaping from the darkness and the cold. As we took our shoes off, my Dad walked out, into the garage to investigate what was wrong with our garage door.He realized that the lights in the garage were no longer working either. I headed up
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I had cleaned my fish tank that afternoon and had taken some dirty water out of the tank and replaced it with clean water. When I gone to discard the dirty water into the bathtub in my bathroom, the handle broke on the red, plastic bucket I was using. Not a single drop of the 10 gallons of water in that bucket made it into the bathtub,the water had covered the bathroom floor transforming my bathroom into a mini pond. I ran hectically around the room, gathering every towel I could find. I threw them all down, desperately trying to soak up all of the water. I watched as the water started to run off the tile and began to seep into the carpet. I threw towel after towel down, praying that my parents wouldn’t walk in on the mess. After I had gone through about ten towels, I decided that my floor seemed dry enough. I left the room, feeling no need to tell my parents of the recent incident, and went to
It all began with a simple phone call one night after dinner. “Joe,” my father hollered up the stairs, “it’s for you. It’s Jackie and she sounds upset .” As I came down stairs to pick up the phone, I was not happy. I was tired and had looked forward to a nice evening at home, not another stupid adventure with Jackie.
My ears were hurting and I could hardly move my fingers at all. " C'mon, c'mon," I said right out loud, almost, "somebody open the door." Finally old Mrs. Spencer opened. it. They didn't have a maid or anything, and they always opened the door themselves.
It is a Tuesday night in San Marcos Texas, it is a bit chilly outside as I walk up and down the square looking for a section of bars I can observe. As I walked East on Hopkins street I stumbled upon two bars, Harpers Brick Oven Sports Pub and The Porch. Both bars were packed with what looked like a mix of native San Marcos residents, and college students. These two bars shed light on what the square is; a welcoming place with a carefree atmosphere for all people who call San Marcos home to enjoy.
I did not know it at the time, but in November of 2005, I was knocking on death’s door. I was living in Naperville, IL with my girlfriend and her family. It was a few days before Thanksgiving, and the family was preparing for the holiday celebration. I was starting to feel a bit under the weather, but it was flu season.
After traveling for a while, Rob and Mary came upon a house that seemed to be vacant, which was exactly what they were looking for. When Rob tried to yank the door open, he noticed that it was locked. After exclaiming to his sister that it was locked, Rob started to bang his fist upon the door until he heard an angry man’s voice.
It was a nice summer day and I was at my friend, Melody’s, house. I had previously spent the night at her house. We had gotten up and started getting ready for our day. We were going to go out and get lunch at Chick-Fil-A. We were walking out to my car ready to go when I realized I did not have my car keys on me. I looked in my pockets and my backpack but they were nowhere to be found. In a panic, I turned around and headed back to Melody’s maroon bedroom to look for my keys. After about 30 minutes of intensely searching her room and we still could not locate them. I started to wonder if maybe I left them in my car from the night before. I went out to my white Ford Focus and sure enough there my keys were sitting in the driver’s seat with
This afternoon tells a different story as I am panically trying to comprehend how Nella managed to wedge her shoe into the slim crevice separating the paved driveway from the cement garage. The contents of the garage are jumbled randomly prohibiting me from quickly reaching Nella before the door bangs closed. Leo has entered inside the house to eat dinner before leaving and I am questioning where their father is, who usually works in his office while I attend to the children. The thing I am certain of is that I cannot watch my young neighbor, who I have watched grow up for two years, be crushed by a metal door. I immediately stop shoving the car into the back and as successfully as possible try to work my way through the maze of garage contents scrambled about including: scooters, bicycles, chalk, gardening tools, and toy balls.
September 18th, 2015 my life started to open up and unfold. I bought my own truck and expected not to have too many issues with it the first year or so; what a joke that was all right? Not too far into my new life with freedom with my adventurous truck it breaks down out of nowhere. Crying wasn't an option at this point I needed to get home, I was miles away. Within a month I had issues with the tires, transmission, and an accident.
He’d just talked to him on the phone. He was on his way here. But- His door clicked as the locked turned up almost taunting him with the slowness from the crack in his closet doors. He slammed his eyes shut, thump thump thump thump, thump thump thump thump.
It was a cold October afternoon in 1996, and I raced down the stairs and out the front door, in an attempt to avoid my mother's questions of where I was going, with whom, and when I'd be back. I saw my friend Kolin pull up in his rusted, broken-down gray van, and the side door opened as Mark jumped out and motioned for me to come. I was just about to get in when my mother called from the front doorway. She wanted to talk to me, but I didn't want to talk to her, so I hopped in pretending I hadn't heard her and told Kolin to drive off.
I know a parking lot doesn’t seem a likely place for a haunting, but in an abandoned neighborhood in North St. Louis there existed such a place. The parking lot was large enough to hold about eighty cars. Whatever business built the lot was long gone. There were several street lights in the parking lot, but oddly enough only one that was located in the rear still worked. The parking lot was easy to find since this lone street light was the only thing still working in the abandoned neighborhood.
As he was running back inside, he could not get to the pantry in time to shut the door before debris was already making its entrance. A pan that came from our cabinet prohibited him from shutting the door. Everything had suddenly gone dark because of the power going out. Then the roof was ripped off like a child playing with legos had decided to take it off. In that moment, my thoughts were going wild because ,if the roof had come off, that meant that my room was gone as well.
While the weather was good I decided this was the best time as any to get back on the road. So I rocked myself up and threw my pack over my shoulder. “Heading off?” Allen asked.
I opened the door to my walk-in closet today, but I couldn’t walk in. Clothes on hangers were jammed together so tightly wrinkles were being pressed into my clothes. Shoes not only hung in a bag on the back of the closet door, but cardboard and plastic boxes of shoes cluttered the floor of the closet. Bags of God only knows what littered the rest of the closet floor making it impossible for me to find spaces to place my feet. I’m a clean neat person. How did my closet get so cluttered that it appeared to belong to a well-established hoarder?
...d with a sureness “possibly but I might make it worse than better”. He suggested we also call IAA to have them give us a Key to the car. My mother called them & sent me to the Car. I searched like a Manic in the cold looking in every possible place. Eventual I gave up on it & went to the back of the car to pick up the grocery’s that we had bought hours before & walk them over to the house. I came back & dropped them off & my mother had told me that it would cost 500 hundred to replace the Honda civic car key. To break to pay my mother panicked. I Feeling a Bit hopeful decide to check the car one more time. After about a Half an hour of searching I sat down & prayed to god. But just when I got out I felt a Sharp point hit my Buttock. I reached my hand in & Felt the key’s. I looked at the keys for a long time & Realized that they were in my back pocket the whole time.