Another October creepy tale to share… Enjoy!
By the time I was about 15 or 16 years old, my parents would leave me home alone for a long weekend from time to time.  I was not the kind of kid who did any bad stuff – I was sober until I was 21 and any wild parties I hosted happened long after I had moved out of my parent’s house.  
So on that summer night, when I was 17 going on 18, at 11:00 PM, it was not a big deal for me to come home from my boyfriend’s house to a dark empty one.  In fact, I enjoyed and savored the opportunity to stay up and watch whatever I liked and listen to whatever I wanted as loud and as late as I cared to stay up.  I was planning on making a night of it!  Little did I know, a horror movie scene was waiting for me on the other side of the door.
I was a weird kid.  Well, I’m a weird adult too.  But as a kid I was fascinated with the idea of living in a deaf or blind culture and I always wondered how I would fare.  On this particular night I decided to test by blindness skills. Would I be able to make it through my house in the complete darkness with only my other senses guiding me?  So as I entered the house, I closed my eyes tight, kicked off my shoes and failed to turn on a single light.  I made my way from the front entry way and down the hall, sliding my feet along the tiles and across the linoleum in the kitchen.  My goal was to find the answering machine so I could check to see if my parents had called.  I peeked, and sure enough the red light was blinking, telling me that a message awaited me on the tape.
I squeezed my eyes shut again and rounded the corner around the couch and began to make my way across the family room.  But something didn’t feel right on the Berber carpet.  It felt clammy, wettish, and something squishy was rolling around and sticking to the bottoms of my socks.  I made it to the couch and sat down, pressing the button on the answering machine.  The messages began to play while I fumbled for the light, mildly curious about what had been spilled on the carpet.  The light came on, and the scene that greeted me totally made me dismiss the messages that were playing.  I surveyed the room, staring at the carpet that was squirming and alive with hundreds and hundreds of maggots.  I gasped, shocked at the sight of their white, writhing bodies.  On my socks were the remnants of many of their brothers and sisters, some dead, some alive.  I threw them off of me and sat, bare footed on my sofa as I formed a plan.
I knew the maggots had to be coming from somewhere.  They were copious, so there was probably something pretty disgusting under a couch nearby.  The weird thing was, there was no smell… So I hopped from the sofa I was sitting onto the sofa kitty corner to it.  I looked on the linoleum, and spying a maggot- free zone I headed to it.  And like hopping on stones across a river, I made it out of there to the entryway where I put my shoes on.  
The plan I had formulated involved sweeping them with a broom into a dustpan and throwing them out.  But sweeping up maggots is a lot like sweeping up rice, they stuck to the bristles and rolled around instead of sliding across the linoleum and carpet.  So I turned to the vacuum instead.  We had one of those tank vacuums, not an upright, so I took the hose and just started sucking up their squirming bodies.  I would make progress, cleaning up the maggots in an area then I’d stop to flip over a couch or chair.  Finding nothing, I’d move onto the next piece of furniture, cleaning first around it, then wincing as I flipped it, expecting to find a chicken leg, a dead animal or, at the very least, an old bowl of oatmeal or something.  But as I cleaned and flipped, nothing appeared.  I remember getting to the last thing to flip and knowing that under that couch there would be something super disgusting. I remember dreading flipping the couch on it’s back, knowing that whatever was under there had to be dealt with by me. I couldn’t let it sit until my mom and dad came home.  As a vegetarian, I was offended that I was left to deal with a rotting carcass!  But I flipped it, and nothing was under there.
That is when I sort of started to get skeeved out.  Where had all of these maggots come from, if not from a source in the house?  I felt unnerved, to say the least.  I turned around to look at my progress, and I think my horror movie mind took over for a moment.  In my memory, it seems like the maggots had reappeared, the ones I had cleaned up seemed to have returned! In my mind’s eye, I can remember seeing the maggots squirming out from between the Berber carpet fibers, close-up, their black little eyes oscillating on the ends of their torpedo shaped bodies.  I started to panic, getting hysterical, I started to cry.
What was going on?!  I was convinced I was the subject of a practical joke, but the joke wasn’t funny.  I had been cleaning maggots for two hours and they just seemed to be sticking around.  While it was around one AM at this point, I felt like I needed to call for some back- up.  I called my boyfriend.
His step- dad, Mike, answered the phone.  I very calmly and politely asked to speak with Brandon.  He very calmly and politely asked me if I realized what time it was.  I very calmly and politely told him I was aware, but that I was having a bit of an emergency, and oh please could I please oh please talk to Brandon?  Please?  Sensing the hysteria creeping into my voice, he handed to phone over to Brandon, at which point I went into full- on hysteria mode: a high pitched, squealing out keening and wailing version of what was going on, told through sobs and tears of course.  Brandon talked me down from the ledge and told me to go wait on the front porch.  He was coming to get me.  I remember when he got there, the sense of relief that flooded me, being able to share this bizarre incident with someone else.  He took me to his house that night where I slept on the couch in his maggot- free family room.
I returned the next Morning, in the light of day.  It wasn’t a dream, indeed there were still maggots.  Again we searched out the source, thinking perhaps I had missed something, but again found nothing.  We cleaned up the remainder of the maggots, and aside from a few that turned up here and there over the next few days, they disappeared.  When my parents came home, they were alarmed at the story.  My dad crawled all over under the house to see if something had happened down there, but came up empty handed.  My brothers were called, but nobody claimed responsibility.  To this day, I’m not sure what happened, but I can tell you one thing: I HATE MAGGOTS!  (And I still pretend I’m blind from time to time too. Yeah, I said I’m a weird adult…)

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Something Sticky…


Gigi Said

  • Topless Tapas 2012-11-03 18:44:52-

    Tami was leaving to go out with her friend and the kids begged to go with her. I said, "you don't want to go with mom, she is going to the Tapas bar and we are going to stay here and play games."

    Gigi stiffened, "That's weird", she said as she blushed. I processed fast and realized the problem. "TAPAS bar. It means 'small plate', not TOPLESS bar!"

Jude Said

  • Nicknames 2013-01-04 21:30:33-

    The checker at the store asked our always conversational little boy what his name was. He replied "Jude" then added "but sometimes they call me pumpkin brown". LOL.

    And they are right. We call him that after the folksong that we sing sometimes.

A long time ago…