The House of Death (Blood on the KeyBoard if you want it)

The House of Death would be built on a plague pit and riddled with the most vicious of poltergeists. 

As I write I can see numerous opportunities for Final Destination moments waiting to happen. In front of me is a seven foot solid wooden Kung Fu practice pole; I stuffed it in its current position because of the amount of times I've previously had to rescue it mid fall: it could fall again, if promoted and it could smash my head open leaving blood on the keyboard and an unwritten blog.

There is a lamppost outside our front window, weakened by the child’s constant climbing and that time we used it as a prop for zip wiring toys. That lamppost might; during high winds crash through into the bedroom and kill us in our sleep.

We all know that most accidents happen in the home. When hanging washing on the clothes horse, I fear trapping my head as the thing potentially closes up on me. My house is an accident waiting to happen.

Accidents waiting to happen illustrated by AndyArtisan

There are obstacles in this house, the dogs are two of them: they are the tripping hazards that might send you straight into the vintage mirror in the hall, next to an upturned skate board, on which you might, in a darkly comic moment, be carried off to fall into the baby gate, which would in turn shake the wall and knock the radio off the shelf and you might die whilst The Archers came on.

About a year ago I mentioned to my Dad that the lights kept tripping. You would turn a light switch on and all the lights would trip out. It got worse and they seemed to be popping every hour or so.

I am fortunate enough to have a skilled electrician in the family (my little brother) who advised with urgency that we were not to use the lights and “whatever you do, Do NOT have the lights on while you are in the shower.” I had never considered electrocution as a real risk.

Chris arrived with his partner and they tore through my little house like an electricity taming duo, they had ladders and wires and Geiger counters? They refused to stop for tea or sandwiches and sped off in their electricians mobile before I could properly thank them. And we were safe.

How strange then that I enjoyed Sunday’s electricity cut as much as I did. We had just finished dinner when a faraway switch flicked and we were plummeted into the sweetness of darkness. Everything went silent. We lit candles; red glittery ones left over from some Christmas and vanilla scented ones received this Christmas. I read The Golem on my Kindle, the boy read The Subtle Knife by candle light and neighbors called on one another to see if they were OK.

There is a lot of fear wrapped up in darkness. I explain to my students that darkness is the exemption of all light, but on Sunday it was the exemption of all noise: t the noise of technology and fridges and for a little while I felt quite at peace and not for one moment as though I lingered in The House of Death.