In Her Hazel Eyes

Alright, who else here spends an abnormally large amount of their time protecting themselves from the inevitable run in with a blood thirsty serial killer? Hmm? Just me? Well, despite what people have been telling me for the past twenty or so years, I’m going to be ready for it people. Just like a run in with your ex on the street, it’s bound to happen sooner or later.

I’ve been an avid watcher of horror films for as long as I can remember which may or may not have contributed to this obsession I have created with keeping an eye out for danger. Even at the age of seven I knew without a shred of doubt that it was my responsibility to look under the bed each night to make sure Jason hadn’t slipped under there while I was busy making faces at myself in the bathroom mirror (don’t act like you didn’t do the same thing). After confirming there was no psycho laying in wait under the bed, I would then move on to the closet. Hiding in the back? No. Behind my dresses? No. Is there a possibility he’s become some type of shape shifter and can now fit into my toy box? Hmm… well, mayb… no. I was clearly naive as a child and unaware that shape shifters are a category all their own… obviously.

As a teenager, my childhood weeknights spent watching episodes of Unsolved Mysteries, this preoccupation with the murdering kind only continued. The trees lining my parents’ driveway were planted in a straight line and the perfect shape and height for a male of ill intentions to lurk behind. Um hello mom, are you trying to have me killed? I created a stellar plan which entailed keeping my headlights on until the very last moment, leaping from the car and booking it to the front porch as fast as my little legs would take me. This worked for all four years of high school and some of college as we all know serial killers prefer to walk at a leisurely pace to build up additional drama for a scene. Whomever was eyeing me from behind those bushes knew that they simply could not catch such a gifted lawn sprinter.

Here in New York City, not much has changed. I still continue to peer under my bed hoping I don’t see a face staring back at me. I still continue to brush the clothing in my closet aside to make damn sure no one is hanging out back there. I lock my bedroom door every night as an added safety precaution. I no longer have a car so I don’t have to worry about those trees as much but about a year ago my parents purchased a second house out in Pennsylvania. Now I’m still not sure why they fail to consult with me on such important decisions but this new home is surrounded by miles and miles of woods. If this is not a breeding ground for maniacs, I don’t know what is.

The first time I visited them I made the mistake of going for a run around the neighboorhood. Several miles from the home I realized, ‘oh hey, I have no idea where my parents live’ and proceeded to jog in circles for about 45 minutes. I was so tired out from searching for the street that I thought was theirs I had slowed to a walk and wasn’t paying attention to the trees as I should have been. The moment you lower your guard is when they attack. In the middle of day light he stepped out onto the street and as I turned around we made eye contact. We both stopped walking and a stare down ensued. “What do you want?,” I yelled. No response. I wondered to myself, ‘who is he?’… ‘is he going to hurt me?’… ‘should I run into the woods?’. He made no movement. I began to back away very slowly while not losing his eye. I was fully prepared to run if he revealed a weapon or made any type of menacing gesture. As I backed down the road in a crab-like manner, I became aware that my parents’ road was only a block away. I managed to turn the corner and back up the driveway without incident. It was only then my father revealed to me that deer in these parts do not attack nor harm human beings. I remain unconvinced.

As I grow older, the odds of me purchasing a home outside of New York City only increase. Owning a house will provide me with a new set of terrors I can only begin to imagine including numerous closets, more than one room and endless hiding spots for the new Dennis Raders of the world. I wonder if it would be possible to find a dwelling absent of walls and any storage space. Perhaps I will move into some type of reinforced metal barn with my family. But until that day comes, I am content knowing my bed is low enough to the floor that Freddy is going to have to lay off the McDonald’s in order to wiggle himself under there.

Sweet dreams all!