Last night, after we put the kids to bed, my wife and I decided to go for a moonlight swim in the pool. Our pool backs in to the woods and has a number of trees hanging over it. This proximity to nature can be very nice. It is frequently shady and cool out by the pool, but it can also lead to less positive experiences. I have pulled mice, frogs, skinks, spiders and at least one small snake out of the pool skimmers. Additionally, more than once, we’ve been relaxing, only to hear a giant crash off in the woods, followed by a deer galloping away. This is actually a very nice experience once your heart starts beating regularly again.
Well last night, the Mrs. and I decided to go for a romantic swim in the pool. We were swimming around - talking, exercising, making out a little, when we heard a crash in the woods….. NOT followed by the sound of a galloping deer. Now, I am not an easily spooked guy, but I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that when you are out in the woods, swimming around in the pool, is precisely when the hook handed man shows up to filet you like a soft bellied mackerel.
Sarah and I nervously joked about this, reassuring ourselves, that at this point in our lives we were far from being the sexy, scantily dressed teenagers favored by metal appendaged psychos. This unfortunately turned Sarah on to the thought, that someday OUR children would be the scantily clad, sexy teenagers swimming in the pool while the parents were out of town. We found this much scarier than the previous thought, and both said a silent prayer that our children would be homely and acne ridden until about 25. (thinking back to out 8th grade class photos, we’ve got a good shot at this).
So, relieved by the more realistic fear of our own children, Sarah and I continued to swim some more and that was when I heard it.
A clink, clink, over by the pool gate.
Now this was odd – very, very odd, because I don’t really remember the gate ever clinking before. There wasn’t any wind and … well… clearly I was just freaking myself out over nothing. Sarah suggested that it was just the pool thermometer clinking against the steps. This seemed highly improbable, but a better scenario than “nut job in hockey mask,” so I decided to pretend it was true.
We continued to talk until I heard a small moan over near the fence. “Wait a second!” I whispered. Sarah had clearly not heard the sound and just got angry. “Stop it,” she said, “you’re freaking me out.”
We swam some more, but I was concentrating more and more on that unnatural Blair Witch Project noise coming from the other side of the pool. As sure as I was that pool thermometers didn’t clink, I KNEW they didn’t moan.
A few seconds later it was back. Clink clink. Clink clink. I peered as intently as I could into the darkness over by the pool fence. Without my glasses I couldn’t see crap. I swam cautiously over to the edge of the pool. My wife, smartly enough, staying safely in the middle.
Our pool fence is black mesh. You can see through it, but not at night. I peered with all my might and thought I could make out the slight shadow of a small figure.
“Is there someone there?” I asked, my voice almost certainly quivering.
A small voice answered, “Hello.”
Now I have to be honest. My very first thought was that it was one of those damn kids from “The Shining” that was always showing up in hallways, acting all creepy, and then disappearing. My next, equally freaky thought, was that it was some weird kid from the neighborhood who was wandering through the woods at 10:00 pm peering voyeuristically at the neighbors and trying to decide whose house to burn down.
These were seriously my only two thoughts: crazed, creepy neighbor kid, or ghost.
It was at this point that my wife says, “Audra?”
“Hi mommy!”
Our 5 year old had apparently been awakened by the dog whining outside her door, then heard voices in the yard, peered out the window and seen us in the pool, snuck downstairs, out of the house, across the lawn then spent at least 10 minutes standing silently at the pool gate, watching us, occasionally trying to open the child proof gate lock. Clink clink.
I could have killed her.
Needless to say, this polished off any romantic urges that may have been swirling around in the background of the evening. Sarah got out of the pool, took Audra back to bed and I put the pool cover back on and went inside to dry off. I couldn’t believe we had gotten busted on our first night swimming without the kids.
It’s a good thing neither of us were the kinds of teenagers that went skinny dipping in secluded lakes, because I’m here to tell you, if my 5 year old can sneak up on us, we would have been easy pickings for a hook handed man.