To the Golden Tendrils of Terror:
The day you came into our lives was my worst to date. I am writing this letter to let you know how you changed our lives for the worse and as a cautionary tale for all readers; lock your doors, get homeowners insurance, and pray that it doesn’t happen to you.
The day was January 2nd, the first day back to work for myself and my wife, and the reopening of preschool for my son. I picked up my wife from work and my son from school and we arrived home at 4 pm, when our food is usually just right, and we would sit and chat about our day and then go to sleep. I noticed something was off, there was a strange stench in the air. I had to find out what it was. I left my wife and child in the car and pushed the front door ajar.
I stood in the doorway, dumbfounded. My house was in shambles and I couldn’t believe it. I had to believe it. The news stories were true. The “Golden Tendrils of Terror” was on the loose and I, Bear Bernstein was her latest victim.
How could this happen to me? What did I ever do to her? I mean, here I was, an upstanding, metaphorically and literally upright walking citizen. I provided for my family, even building them this nice house, complete with food, the finest porridge in the land and modern-day amenities like wooden chairs and plush beds. How could this happen to me?
Shaken out of my stupor and disbelief, I surveyed the damage. In the kitchen, there were two bowls of porridge sampled and discarded like yesterday’s news and one bowl licked clean. In the living room two out of three chairs stood, but they stunk of a trespassing human. The third chair, belonging to my young son, was in pieces on the floor. It seemed that the burglar unsuccessfully tried to sit in it. How stupid of them. I thought humans were supposed to be the smart ones.
My wife and son came in to look for me, so much time had passed with me standing in disbelief in the kitchen. My wife was livid, my son visibly upset. Don’t people have any sympathy?
We moved to the bedroom and saw that my wife’s as well as my bedsheets were rumpled. A strange sound emanated from my son’s bed. We pulled back the covers and there she was, the inconsiderate intruder, the brazen burglar, the Golden Tendrils of Terror, snoring away in the smallest bed. How could she cause all this destruction, all this discomfort and still sleep soundly?
In a fit of rage, we began growling, angry because of what she did but scared at what she could do next. She jumped up, startled out of her sleep and saw us looming over her. She screamed a blood curdling scream and darted out of the bedroom like a scared rodent and out of the front door into the woods. We never saw her again.
I still think about that day from time to time. I mostly think about the person behind the persona, the girl behind the infamous Golden Tendrils of Terror. I hope next time that she thinks about breaking and entering someone’s home that she considers how it would affect them. Perspective is extremely important. What may seem like a scavenger hunt for one may be the scariest day of another’s life that has lasting effects.
My wife is now enrolled in therapy, as she cannot rest easy anymore, for fear of another break-in. The repair cost for the chair was enormous and to top it all off my son cannot sleep through the night. He says his bed really doesn’t feel the same as it did before.
I hope you get your just desserts Golden Tendrils of Terror.