You Probably Don’t Have a Ghost…

The moon drops below the horizon and darkness envelopes the night, you pull the covers high around your neck as if the cotton sheets offer some sort of cosmic protection.

Your eyes dip and sleep starts to take you.

Then the toy guitar starts to play, then the electronic sketch pad, a plush toy yabbers to itself.

Never fear it’s probably not a spector or apparition, it’s just all those seemingly inanimate objects self activating.

I’m half convinced that toy manufacturers include a timer or light meter in noisy toys just so they scream at all hours, perhaps it’s a marketing ploy to keep our attention.

No matter how many you turn off there’ll always be one damn toy that will signal 2am without fail. The familiar electronic wail of Bobby the Bear, or the rythmic stylings of the Mega Beats Drum Set, will invade the deepest sleep and manifest itself into a horror form within your dream.

You’ll pull yourself from the warmth of your bed and step lightly across the hard wood floors. ¬†Carefully you deactivate the Furby, silence the Tiggly Wiggly, and suffocate little Bo-Peep with the weight of your hand.

Then from the darkness: beep, beep, peep.

It’ll invariably be at the bottom of the toy box, and a whisper won’t have escaped its synthetic lips for weeks, but now at the darkest part of the night, when you’re at your most vulnerable, it perks up.

Like the eery music in that horror movie you shouldn’t have watched it drifts into your semi conscious state and terrifies your mind.

Perhaps the cat activated it or one of the kids, never mind the dappled light of morning will chase the demons away and the toy will drift back into silent contemplation awaiting the next dark hour.

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