Marc and Marianne undressed themselves and quickly slipped under the duvet. Although the heating had been on for many hours, it was unusually cold in their normally snug bedroom. Soon they hoped to be as warm as toast and drifting off to sleep after a hard day looking after their boisterous three-year-old son Robert. Seconds later, Marianne was hit on the head by their son’s toy dog. She sat bolt upright in bed with a bemused look in her eyes. The cuddly toy was clearly aimed at her but who - or what - could have thrown it? Moments later another stuffed dog hit her on the head. She hardly saw it move. It seemed to have appeared on the edge of vision a fraction of a second before hitting her. And this time it hit with far greater force and, if she was honest, malevolence. Soon the air was thick with flying toys. All seemed to appear in mid flight, apparently from nowhere, and were hurled with great force at the petrified couple. Marc and Marianne hugged the duvet closer to try and protect themselves from the flying toys. The poltergeist had the same idea. An invisible hand grabbed the far corner of the duvet and pulled in the opposite direction.
Soon they were involved in an ethereal tug-of-war. In such a battle there could be only one victor and the poltergeist was determined to win. But then, just as quickly as it had started, the tugging stopped only to be replaced by something even more sinister. "Marianne, my body feels like its burning," said Marc in a panic-stricken voice. “What’s happening to me?”
Miscellaneous musings of meager merit
2 days ago