Like I said in the previous post, around the mid 90's I had a fear that an escape gorilla from the zoo was stalking our neighborhood. We had a laundry room in our old house which was nothing more than a sort of big mud room off the backyard porch. Being Puerto Rico, all the windows were of the shuttered variety,except these were just panes of glass that folded over one another. My mom always made me go to the laundry room at night and close that window. I don't know exactly why. Maybe to keep bugs out? Whenever I did look at that window, I expected a pair of red glowing eyes to be looking back at me. Our had a sort of living fence made of wild ginger plants. They were tall, stalky plants, almost like corn, that could hide any sort of creature in them. And I thought this creature was a gorilla. The first Chupacabra sighting in PR was in 1994 and I believe I inserted the gorilla as some sort of proxy for the creature. The monster lived about six counties over in the outskirts of the rain forest. We didn't have any rabbits or chickens for it to feed one and, besides, it wasn't even real! Was it? I knew gorillas didn't have red eyes, but the Chupacabra did and that is why I believe I just substituted the crazy (scaly blood sucking beast) to the sitcom-esque (Oh no! Escape gorilla!).
Speaking of eyes, after first learning about Mothman* in the wonderful Big Book of the Unexplained, I am even more frazzled by looking through windows. Especially at night. I can't sleep with the curtains up. Not because of ambient light coming through the windows, but because last thing I want to see is a pair of hypnotic eyes rise up from below the windowsill and stare at me! At least with curtains, I have some time to prepare myself for terror!
My last window memory isn't that scary, even though a storm can certainly be characterized as scary. The context is that during 1989's Hurricane Hugo, I watched the lemon tree in my backyard fall because of the winds. It was all from a bathroom window and rather physical, as well as visual. This window didn't have any glass. It was some metal shutters placed in the wall behind some metal grating and a screen panel. Here is a little something about it.
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My cousins lived out by the bay and after many phone calls and a threat from the police they eventually decided to evacuate. But not to a community shelter. But to our house, which was on a hill and made of the appropriate concrete. "That is what family is for," said my uncle as he came through the front gate. "Yes, family," said my father as he welcomed everyone in.
Hurricanes are notoriously boring. You can only watch the local channels that come in over the air and then they are just running the news. When the power goes out, we need to save the batteries for flashlights, not that portable TV. I hardly read, something I usually enjoy, because it is hard to read by candlelight. To get any decent light, you almost have to burn your book.
My cousins are all younger; six, eight, and nine. But, because I'm bored, I play their games too. We run through all the potted plants that mom brought in from the terrace. It's a jungle in there and we hoard some of the food from the pantry in case the hurricane takes the adults away. Most of our rations are potted meat and water crackers. One cousin, Tuto, tries to eat a palm frond, swearing he saw someone at school do it. He later vomited it up on the backyard porch, right as the first rain storms came through.
"Hey, come look at this!" It was my father's voice and we all blasted out from the jungle to find him in the master bedroom. "Here, in the bathroom!" The rest of the adults were behind us now. My uncle, mother, and aunt pushed us into the bathroom. Through the metal grating over the actual shutters, we all saw the lemon tree sway in the winds. Father explained that he though the neighborhood houses were capturing the wind and bouncing it off the sides of the house. The tree did seem to circle around, with the weaker branches snapping off and twirling down the grass. We heard the soft tuft of a lemon hitting the side of our house. It must have been close to the actual window, since the wind was so strong, that the metal shutters creaked.
"There it goes!" My uncle jabbed out a finger and pressed his nail into the screen grate before the shutters. A sort of cross wind must have caught the tree and sent the top branches in opposite directions. The force ran down each of the main branches and into the base. The tree wasn't very old or strong. The base trunk was as thick as a softball and the wood split down the middle. Each side cam down on separate side of the lawns, held together by splinters of wood at the base. Father let out a swear and mother said good riddance. "It was dying anyway. Did you see that black soot on its leaves."
"Ah, yes," said my aunt. "A fungus."
The fallen branches still moved in the wind, almost twitching with every gust. Though it rained hard and I imagined they were heavy with all the water, the movements were springy as if each branch wanted to crawl away from the wreck. I pressed m had against the spot where my uncle had jabbed the screen. I felt the divot and the squirts of water coming in from the outside. The rain squeezed itself through the metal squares. It was also broken during the hurricane.
Hurricanes are notoriously boring. You can only watch the local channels that come in over the air and then they are just running the news. When the power goes out, we need to save the batteries for flashlights, not that portable TV. I hardly read, something I usually enjoy, because it is hard to read by candlelight. To get any decent light, you almost have to burn your book.
My cousins are all younger; six, eight, and nine. But, because I'm bored, I play their games too. We run through all the potted plants that mom brought in from the terrace. It's a jungle in there and we hoard some of the food from the pantry in case the hurricane takes the adults away. Most of our rations are potted meat and water crackers. One cousin, Tuto, tries to eat a palm frond, swearing he saw someone at school do it. He later vomited it up on the backyard porch, right as the first rain storms came through.
"Hey, come look at this!" It was my father's voice and we all blasted out from the jungle to find him in the master bedroom. "Here, in the bathroom!" The rest of the adults were behind us now. My uncle, mother, and aunt pushed us into the bathroom. Through the metal grating over the actual shutters, we all saw the lemon tree sway in the winds. Father explained that he though the neighborhood houses were capturing the wind and bouncing it off the sides of the house. The tree did seem to circle around, with the weaker branches snapping off and twirling down the grass. We heard the soft tuft of a lemon hitting the side of our house. It must have been close to the actual window, since the wind was so strong, that the metal shutters creaked.
"There it goes!" My uncle jabbed out a finger and pressed his nail into the screen grate before the shutters. A sort of cross wind must have caught the tree and sent the top branches in opposite directions. The force ran down each of the main branches and into the base. The tree wasn't very old or strong. The base trunk was as thick as a softball and the wood split down the middle. Each side cam down on separate side of the lawns, held together by splinters of wood at the base. Father let out a swear and mother said good riddance. "It was dying anyway. Did you see that black soot on its leaves."
"Ah, yes," said my aunt. "A fungus."
The fallen branches still moved in the wind, almost twitching with every gust. Though it rained hard and I imagined they were heavy with all the water, the movements were springy as if each branch wanted to crawl away from the wreck. I pressed m had against the spot where my uncle had jabbed the screen. I felt the divot and the squirts of water coming in from the outside. The rain squeezed itself through the metal squares. It was also broken during the hurricane.
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Peace!
*If you want to learn more about how terrorizing the Mothman is, I suggest you stay away from the lackluster Richard Gere movie. The Big Book story (presented in comic book form) just really highlights the creepiness with lots of single panels of those eyes.
*If you want to learn more about how terrorizing the Mothman is, I suggest you stay away from the lackluster Richard Gere movie. The Big Book story (presented in comic book form) just really highlights the creepiness with lots of single panels of those eyes.
