A healthy imagination is the bane of my sanity
So I’m washing my face after a long day at work. It’s late and the house was quiet when I got home. I assume everyone else is already asleep. I just wanted to get cleaned up quickly before going to bed.
In the 10 seconds that I closed eyes to scrub my face proper with soap, the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out.
I open my eyes, and find myself in utter darkness. There’s not enough moonlight coming through the tiny skylight. The bathroom door is shut, as usual. Squinting through soaped up eyes, even the mirror right before me is just a patch of black.
Nonetheless, on auto-pilot mode, I turn the tap on and start rinsing. I figure, “Crap. The light is out again. I’ll just quickly rinse and get out of here.”
In that split second, I also think, “This is how horror movies start.”
Mmmmmmmmmm.
I immediately turned around, face dripping with weakly soapy water, reached for the door and opened it. I flipped the bathroom lights a couple of times, before I gave up and switched on something else nearby, so the bathroom can be indirectly lit. I looked around a bit before I went back to rinsing the soap off my face. Surprisingly, I had remembered to turn the tap off before I made a mad just in case dash for my life.
Because this is how horror movies start.
Wow, way to go, Cindy. Bet I’ll be dreaming of severed floating heads or demonic apparitions in mirrors tonight. Or blood flowing out of taps. Or chainsaw-bearing psycho killers standing outside bathroom doors. ARGHHHHH.