While we were there, I noticed another difference between North American and German homes. In Germany, all the houses have fake shutters that don't actually close on all the windows. But they also have rolled up metal shutters that they can close from the inside with a little rope when it gets stormy. They're really loud when you close them.
Steph needed to skype her brother, so we went to Bahnhof after lectures. We headed back to Bode at about 10:15. And so the story begins...
It was a full moon. Patchy clouds drifted eerily across the sky. I seriously spell across wrong every time I type it out. EVERY TIME! I spelled it with two 'c's, fixed it, then started writing that next sentence and spelled it wrong again! You know what else gets me? Judgment. I like to slip an 'e' after that 'g'... Steph and I walked arm in arm down the center of the silent street, houses dark and quiet on both sides. The two bars on that street are mellow, no peals of laughter in the distance. Somehow in my mind, I would like to say there were peals of laughter in the distance cause that just sounds right, but there weren't..just wanna make that clear.
As we walked, each street lamp caught and stretched our shadows. I commented on how it reminded me of the movie Nightmare on Elm Street where the burn wound victim with metal claws comes into people's dreams and kills them..looking back, there was no justification for why that street would've reminded me of that movie, but at the time it added the needed kick of adrenaline to an otherwise uneventful night.
We neared the end of the street and something moved in the shadows beneath the tin roof of the fire station and/or oddly placed airplane hangar on our right. We both screamed and grabbed each other. Out walks a German cop. He crosses the street behind us to where two other cops are standing and they talk in hushed tones, which we strain to hear despite the fact that we know they're speaking in German and there is therefore no way that we can understand a single syllable of what they're saying.
Turning the corner, we jumped to the side of the eight inch wide sidewalk (which I assure you is a feat in itself) out of the way of two more cops striding stoically (extra points for alliteration) down the street. I'm sure German cops are good people for the most part, but they're German men in uniform, so my brain just automatically draws the parallel to the more publicised German men in uniform from various World War II movies and makes them that much more scary.
Steph and I laugh a little. I probly cracked some sort of stupid joke to lighten the mood, which
Steph probly laughed at cause she's just awesome like that. Everything is fine. The excitement's over for the night. We pass a naked baby fountain. I attempt to start a conversation about the mental process that must've taken place in order to establish chubby, exposed marble infants as a popular mode of decorative water distribution. Steph checks her phone and lets me talk. All is as it should be.
Ahead on our left is the apothecary. I call it an apothecary only because apothecary is almost the same word as what they use on the German sign over this medicine store and I don't know what the correct modern English replacement for the word might be.
I like this apothecary because it's got a huge window in the front and when you look in, you see shelves and shelves of those bulky brown glass old-fashioned medicine bottles. It sparks my curiosity a little. Every time I walk past there I imagine the old man who owns it-white frizzy beard and hair like Einstein... skinny... spry. I'm not completely sure what spry means, but I think it fits here pretty well. ...animated and a little off. Probably, one eye twitches. He smokes a pipe and likes to make up things about what kinds of things used to be in those old medicine bottles just to see his audience's reaction.
So here I am creepily daydreaming about a lonely old man as I walk along, the traces of adrenaline sluggishly draining from my veins and I look over and see this:
That, reader, is not just a doll. That is a wooden doll with empty black eyes that pierce your soul. That doll is holding some sort of weapon which I was unable to identify because when I get freaked out, my eyes water for no particular reason. I think that might prove unfortunate for me if I'm faced with any real danger at some point in the future, but that is a topic for another conversation.
The adrenaline in my veins woke up again!
I want you to know that I got within ten feet of that window to take those pictures. I risked a lot. And I was pathetically jumping around from creeped-out-ness the whole time, which makes the quality of those images doubly impressive.
As I'm taking pictures, Steph's telling me we've gotta hurry. Lock-up's in seven minutes. Let's go. I knew she was right, so I'm hurrying, multiple "Oh my gosh"'s and "What??!!"'s coming from my mouth cause despite my blanched fear, I was still trying to figure out some logical reason for someone to place that cold, lifeless puppet in their window.
Just as I'm taking my last, closest, and most brave picture, I hear "Shhh!"
My first impulse is frustration at Steph. In my mind I'm thinking, "If I want to take a stinking picture of a stinking creepy doll, just let me do it. Don't shush me! Since when did you get so..." I turn around and Steph is frozen. I'm not sure if the crippling shiver that ran down my spine was because it was frigid outside, or because terror took on a physical embodiment and gave me crebbles. (Crebbles is a made up word that a girl named Cara brought to Bible school from way up north in Canadia. It means a gentle back rub. Not like a massage. Like how I slipped that little nugget of knowledge in there? Also, while I'm at it, "Boatloafing" is having deep, emotional conversations. I don't think there's a reason behind either of those word choices.)
I started to ask Steph, "did you..." she shook her head. We heard it again "SHHH!" And I'm talking that was a powerful shush! It must've come from accross the street, but it sounded like it was next to us! I have no idea who shushed us..could've been some old lady across the street-just spelled across wrong again-could've been the angry spirit of the little boy who that spry little apothecary had turned into his window puppet...who really knows. One way or another though, it didn't take a significant amount of time for Steph and I to put some impressive distance between us and that window.
We make it to the graveyard on our right. When you're comforted by a graveyard, you know there's something wrong. The little candles on the graves seemed almost inviting.. it really is a pretty little graveyard though. Anyways, so we're walking, sort of giggling still, but not yet making conversation. Across the street we hear a loud noise and both jump and scream. The motion-sensor light in the parking lot over there turns on and two men dressed in dark clothes are dragging a huge bag from a truck toward a dumpster. I kid you not. The sound we heard was the bag and whatever its contents might've been (I'll let you make your own speculations) hitting the gravel ground from the bed of the truck.
If you weren't understanding of our girlish fright before, please do be now. We ran-walked down the street and around the corner. The clouds parted and the moon cast a beam of light on the sign for the graveyard. Like we needed the added affect.
As we turned onto our street, a black cat scampered into the bushes in front of us. Warmth started to return to our bones as we neared Bode. Our heartbeats calmed a little. We stepped onto the brick parking area of the school. Somehow, and I'm honestly not sure why, everything felt all warm and happy and safe as soon as we got there. It might've been because we knew the door was within competitive running distance from most any danger, but now I'm just speculating..
Steph and I start to laugh a little bit and breath normal again. We both can't believe that all that just happened to happen on one night. And as girls, of course, we feed off each other so it just made it that much worse.. We're almost to the door and all of a sudden there's a sudden noise to our left. I thought they were shooting at us. Who "they" were didn't occur to me. Suffice it to say, we both jumped and screamed and ended up grabbing each other for dear life before realizing that it was just Marj's metal shutters closing for the night.
I feel like I just walked through Fishbach's own little haunted house :D
Romans 12:10
Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.
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