Fifth, Alarm, Hang, Mephitic (foul, offensive), Ivory, Poltergeist, Static, Inimical (antagonistic), Threshold, Fracture, Senescent (growing old), Vapor
It was during my teenage years that the alarms started to ring for me. I thought I was just as everybody else. Happy home life, stable parents, comfortable in every way. That my parents were night workers never bothered me as they had always done so.
Then on my fifteenth birthday the big announcement that has changed my life.
I am a poltergeist. Yes that’s right, my parents are too, hence the night work.
To say I was surprised is to put it mildly. I was inimical towards my parents. How dare they spring this on me at such a delicate stage of my development.
How was I to step up in my relationship with Janice Crook, the prettiest girl in school?
I could imagine her parents asking me the question: So what do our parents do at night?
I could see that going so well and my relationship with the lovely Janice going down the gurgler well and truly.
To add insult to injury they informed me that as of the following Saturday I would be attending Poltergeist classes conducted by my Uncle Herman a man whom I already knew was in possession of the most mephitic of foul vapours.
Apart from the smell of the man I also knew him, as did every other family member, as a filthy old man who in his senescent days seemed to be getting smellier and filthier.
So it was that my proud parents, they did have an odd sense of achievement in what they did, God knows why, took to Uncle Herman’s to begin my poltergeistic career.
I stood on the threshold of his house, a normal looking house in a normal street in suburbia. Inside was the most magnificent irony staircase stretching up into the palatial rooms in which he always seemed to have visitors.
In the foyer of the house hung a portrait of Uncle Herman looking extremely benevolent which must have been a difficult pose for a man who was everything but benevolent. But it did lull you into a false sense of security about a man whose record amongst fellow poltergeists was second to none. He certainly had a reputation one I had been told about in glowing terms in the past few days. He was the best, and I was sure to be his best student if I worked hard at my craft.
Scaring people I thought how hard can it be?
Most people I knew feared what they couldn’t see. Project an object across the room and you were on a winner if you accompanied it with a scream of two.
Wrong I was told. It too skill and planning to frighten the life out of a person. It turned out that throwing and noises were only a fraction of the skill I had to conquer in order to become a top rate poltergeist.
It was all about static and vapours he said. Zap em, stink em, let them be unsure of what to do next, be it step or touch or taste or smell and you had them. You could paralyse a man in that way, leave him rooted to the spot and you could enjoy his squirming as his terror levels rose.
I have to admit I did pay attention. I did graduate, I did take up residence in a number of houses, I did cause the occupants to quake in fear, shiver in anticipation of some household object sailing through the air often at one of their heads.
I was so good I often had time to myself. Which meant of course time to spend with Janice Crook, who if she could only have seen me would have thought I was a bit of alright I am sure.
That’s the issue with becoming a poltergeist; once you commit and despite how inimical you feel about the whole idea, you do become invisible. Which is not such a bad idea when you realise that you quickly develop your own mephitic vapours, which sadly do hang around you like the proverbial bad smell.