Stairway to Terror

Growing up in a rural area, one of the only summer jobs available was babysitting.  I sometimes watched kids on local farms which meant the nearest neighbor could be a mile away.  I wasn’t the nervous type and I didn’t even mind staying late.  All that changed one night as I was putting the kids to bed on a remote farm.

                It was only 8:00 but already bedtime for the 4 year old girl and 2 year old boy I was watching.  The little girl ran up the stairs before me to find a book for me to read as I carried the little boy in my arms.  As I reached the first landing, the boy, who was facing behind me and looking over my shoulder, suddenly said, “Who’s that?”  I could feel his arm reaching out pointing at something or someone.

                I froze in mid step and quickly weighed my options.  At 14 years old they consisted of: stand and die or scream and run. I blame horror movies for the fact that they did not include turn around and look.  My split second decision was scream and run but it is hard to scream when you are taking stairs 3 and four at a time with a 2 year old in your arms.  I reached the little girls bedroom slamming and locking the door behind us.  I asked the kids to be very quiet and pressed my ear against the door to try and hear if we had been followed up the stairs.  There were no cell phones in those days and no land line in the kid’s room.  We were trapped.

                Suddenly, I heard the sound of a car in the driveway and the voices of their parents.  I listened as they unlocked the door and walked across the kitchen toward the stairs.  Relief flooded over me as I realized that they had not encountered any evil on the way in.  They were laughing and calling my name.  I came out of the bedroom holding the two year old, who suddenly burst into tears and reached for his mother.  As she took him from my arms he cried, “Who’s that? Who’s that?” and pointed toward the next room.  She calmly walked into the living room and picked up a children’s book.  The book had a familiar title that I remembered my mom reading to me, Are You My Mother.   “It’s his favorite” she said, he won’t go to sleep until he hears it.  Every time I turn the page he asks “Who’s that?”