sookie/spooky

When we bought season one of True Blood last summer, I was not a fan.  I thought it was ridiculously bad and gave up after two episodes.  Steve was hooked.  He begged me to give it another chance but I had pretty much drawn the line:  two hours of my time had already been sucked down the drain and if I were going to do any more than that I would charge one million dollars per episode.  Not.  Gonna.  Happen.

Season two came via Netflix and I’ll admit, as hard for me as it is:  now, I am hooked in the it’s so bad it’s good kind of way (which is maybe true of most vampire stories; Twilight anyone?).  I’m not in it for the vampires.  And there are still things about it I don’t like.  One, I have no stomach for the blood. Two, Anna Paquin’s Southern accent makes me want to drive a stake through my head.  But here’s what I love: the story!  It is a very American story and it comes together at a genius level.

Now here’s the spooky: we take a walk every night with George.  Picture this:

Last night, one of the houses we passed – that we know to be vacant while it’s under repair – had something creepy going on in an upstairs window.  The entire house was completely dark and suddenly, in that upstairs room, the lights switched on in a very quick, schizo (read: haunted) manner:  flicker flicker flicker.  And then the room went dark again and stayed dark (we stood there watching it for a time).  There were no curtains so we could see the room was completely empty.  It gave me the shivers. That spine tingle.