I had some friends come into town a few days ago-- the parents of my goddaughter, in fact (known by me as The Bean). Since Kari (the mommy) is from the 'Burg, she comes to visit her mother quite often, and we usually hang out one night while they're in town. They lure me with promises of Thai food, and we swap gossip and amusement for a few hours.
At the moment, my front door is jacked up, compliments of one of my nieces who went all She- Hulk Smash on it, so until I can afford to repair it, it's kept shut and locked, and I use the back door as my primary entrance/exit. My yard is horseshoe shaped, and I have a little forest of mature pine trees all over. So even in daylight it stays dim and cool in my yard, and at night there is little ambient light even if there's a full moon out. It's not really a problem though, as the path around my house is clear, and there are motion lights at both front and back door. The only place it's really dark is at the bottom of the horseshoe shape, but like I said, it's a an unblocked path way.
So what in the HELL was the cold, smooth thing that pressed against my right calf as I was sashaying to the door, thinking my usual filthy thoughts?
Now, I am usually in possession of a moderately rational side. I am extremely prone to flights of imagination, as Cins can attest, but if there is a reasonable answer for something I'm usually capable of finding it. I have NO IDEA what touched my leg, but let me promise you this: a mystery touch in total darkness is as bad if not WORSE than something touching you under water (unless you're swimming at night-- that's worse). I squealed and did not know I was running until I was at my back door and the motion light came on. I slammed my key in the lock and was inside with the dead bolt thrown in, I'd conservatively guess, one half second.
It was a lot like this, but with a kicky hair cut and pad thai left overs.
I was so spooked that I found I couldn't pee unless the bathroom window (which is near that corner though it does not actually over look it) was firmly closed.
Did I bolster my nerves, grab a flash light and a base ball bat and go out and look? Fuck no! Do I look stupid?! At worst it was some tiny, gibbering monstrosity that goes around pressing cold glass bottles against unsuspecting legs, at best it was a skunk, and either damn way, I lose in that equation!
I went and looked the next day, but there was, as expected, nothing there. There is literally nothing but the flat, pine needle-laden path, and the side of my house. I've since, several times, walked that path at night, and have been thankfully unfondled. I've resisted the urge to run it, but just barely, and that's more because I hate to run than anything else.
I've creeped myself out typing this, and I think I need a drink. Why do you make me do these things to myself, blog? Why??