Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

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Daughter of Ishmael by Diane Stringam Tolley

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by Diane Stringam Tolley

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Thursday, February 2, 2012

Intruder Alert!

Debbie.
Mischief, mayhem and entertainment in one package.

In college, I shared a two-bedroom apartment with three other girls.
Debbie, she of the moth abhorrence, and I in one room, the other two girls in the second.
The apartment was on the main floor of an older, period home, with wonderful hardwood floors and original doors and fixtures.
And windows.
And therein hangs a tale, so to speak.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
We loved it there.
The south window in Debbie's and my bedroom faced the garage.
It was never locked.
The window, I mean.
With a barrel pushed underneath, it made an excellent entrance to our apartment.
None of this having to tramp around the house, through the entrance and clear across the living room.
Nope. We could step right into our room, drop our boots under the window, and we were home.
I don't think we used our keys to the front door once in the entire year we lived there.
And neither did our friends . . .
So noises from that window were not unusual.
Though not always expected.
One evening, Debbie and I were getting ready for bed.
Well, she was.
I was busy selecting a book for my usual nighttime read.
Without warning, the blind, which had been pulled down over the window, snapped up.
Whip! Whip! Whip!
Debbie, standing there half in and half out of her jammies, screamed.
No one could scream quite like Debbie.
Thinking someone was trying to come in and realizing her state of  'almost-dressed-ness', she scurried out into the front room.
Then she screamed again.
Louder, this time.
Thinking something had happened, I dropped my book and dashed out into the front room.
Something had.
Happened, I mean.
Debbie was collapsed on the floor in front of our little entryway.
I should tell you, here that the entry to our apartment was about four feet square.
There was a tiny coat rack built into one side. On the wall between that rack and the door was a small window.
Uncurtained.
It was dark outside.
And the lights were on inside.
Moving on . . .
I rushed over to my friend.
And realized that she was helpless with laughter.
She had dashed out of our room, pulling up her pajama bottoms.
Then she had seen movement in the entry.
Someone was looking at her.
She screamed and collapsed.
Only then realizing that the combination of dark night and lighted room had created a mirror-like trait in our little entry window.
She had seen . . . Debbie.
It must have been a scary sight.

12 comments:

  1. Thanks for linking up, what a neat blog you have here...

    ReplyDelete
  2. must have been halloween night ...spooky lol

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Believe me . . . every night with Debbie was Halloween night! :)

      Delete
  3. Oh gosh...that brings back a memory of sharing an apartment, the Twilight Zone, and "a sound" dadadadum....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yep. Life with Debbie was very like an episode from the Twilight Zone. And a lot of fun!

      Delete
  4. So, did you get that shade fixed? I would have thought nothing of using a barrel to a bedroom window to get home. If one of my grandchildren considered it, I'd have a stroke.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yep. Fixed the blind myself. Did you know you can take those things and re-wind them? Maybe not the new ones. But those, you certainly could! And the barrel entrance? If any of my kids had an apartment like mine, I would have made them move!!! :)

      Delete
  5. This was a fun story and I enjoyed reading it.
    I love stories of past moments in time. It even brought a memory to my mind.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That is the best reward for why I write, LeAnn! Help people remember their own lives. they are all precious! Write yours. I'll be super happy to read it!!!

      Delete
  6. Diane, as you know, I'm a fan of reliving good memories and I love to write about them. Reading your wonderful story reminded me why this is so. How utterly delightful to remember a past time when everything was simpler, safer, and still loads of fun! :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Bella, I totally agree with you! I always tell people that I live in the past - it's gentler there!

      Delete

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Diane was born and raised on one of the last of the great old Southern Alberta ranches. A way of life that is fast disappearing now. Through her memories and stories, she keeps it alive. And even, at times, accurate . . .

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