Am I superstitious? Not in the slightest, however, I don't snub those that are because I truly believe that the world is an unexplainable place. I am acutely aware of creepy places especially at night when I'm alone like any other sensible warm-blooded human being. And I believe in the possibility of hauntings which is why when the clock struck twelve on this Friday the 13th you would have found me a little freaked out working alone in the basement of an old VFW on Vashon Island in Washington, the only other person was upstairs. We were working late, I was printing my books and Phil was building bookcases for the new facility. Planning on taking the last ferry off the island at 1:20am, we got there early and they were late. While we sat in the car listening to NPR World News, the broadcaster announces a new rabies outbreak in South America caused by the bites of vampire bats. Four children from a local village had already died "from the bites of the blood sucking animals." Phil said, "well now I'm going to sleep well tonight." I chuckled but little did I know that was only the beginning of my paranormalish night. In and out of sleep in the car and then on the ferry, I finally get back to Genevieve's at 2:43 am nearly witching hour and walk up to the door. It's locked. Locked, and Vievo has to be up for work early. I poke around in the flowerpots, yet she had said she would leave the door open so I didn't know where to look for a key. I give up and decide to call her. Facing the door, I dial her number, denied instantly with no signal. I turn to get reception out in the alley and a black cat is staring up at me from my feet. I squeal a bit and he darted a bit but when I started to walk out he followed me. He was between my feet and legs as I called Vievo, telling her voicemail the predicament I found myself in as I stood in the alley. On the second call she answered, let me in and I took this farewell photo, checking his collar for his name.
This is Ozzie, my Mr. Friday the Thirteenth.
