Scrapes & Foibles Part 1

I’m sure that before you got to where you are right now – all steady and wise or maybe just plain at ease and confident about yourself and your life in general – you got yourself into all sorts of nonsense and idiocy. This post is a salute to those moments.

I was never a headache to my parents. The angst of my teenage years were spent on silent fury and emo-like writings and musings. And let’s not forget the angry, bitter music. When I waved good bye to my teen age years, that fact remained and so had earned me the golden ticket to the fact that my parents didn’t question me as much as they should. (Little did they know that what they never knew won’t hurt them!) When I was in my early twenties I happened to enjoy staying out too late one night…

It was summer that time and I didn’t know where time went when I was out but it definitely wasn’t with me. I was out of the house and enjoyed myself too much. Soon enough, two a.m. found me still out in the streets. By the time I got back home, the gates were locked. I had to scale the wall and jump over the gate, all five feet and 1.5 inches of me. I brushed all the debris from my shorts and shirt and walked stealthily to the front door. Only to find it locked. Lights were turned off and I knew that waking anyone up would be the end of my golden ticket to freedom. So I did the only rational thing I could think of at two in the morning: I went around the house. That’s because I remembered that there was one window at the back of my house. With any luck, I could open it and sneak inside.

Not a few minutes later, I found myself climbing this huge jar which was standing by the windowsill. I concentrated on keeping my balance while sliding the window open and was rewarded with me being able to open it. Another round of a circus-worthy act getting myself inside. A couple of bumps and “Ouch!” and mild swear words. And when I finally managed to get more than half of my little body inside, my other leg managed to get caught behind. I yanked it out of impatience. My hands pinwheeled crazily as I hurtled inside the house, nearly knocking over the antique desk lamp (there was a table filled with antique baubles of fragility and worth that’s more that I can pay for if ever I destroyed them). I caught myself just in time before I hit the ground. I took my sweet time picking myself up from the floor. My heart was banging crazily against my chest, afraid I was going to get caught at any moment. Thankfully, no one seemed to hear the racket I have created. I went back to my room limping but relieved.

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Author: Anna

A 30-something female awed/delighted/floored with anything horror. Known to kick-start her days with coffee. Indulges in chocolates, blogging, writing, and reading. Attracted to the offbeat and the quirky / the odd and the strange / the weird and the eerie.

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