The Mountain Laurel
The Journal of Mountain Life

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from the
Heart of the Blue Ridge

The Intruder - "Possum Storm"

By Deidre M. Thigpen © 1987

Issue: June, 1987

It was mid–June and we were having one of the worst storms in years. Joe had gone out to make sure the barn was closed up and I was in the house alone.

We hadn't been living here long and I wasn't used to the place yet. Every minute that Joe was out of the house, I could swear I heard a noise that wasn't right. It was the same way that night.

In between each clap of thunder, I heard a noise up in the attic. I grabbed a frying pan and waited for Joe by the back door. It seemed like an hour had passed and he wasn't back yet. I gathered up all of my courage and went upstairs. I stood at the foot of the attic steps for an eternity before I started up them.

When I opened the door and flipped the light switch, a fuse blew. I was scared enough as it was, but this added to it.

I reached for a candle and at that time I saw a pair of eyes staring straight at me.

I dropped my candle and frying pan and ran down the stairs to wait for Joe.

When I reached the back door, Joe was back. He fixed the fuse and went upstairs with me.

I waited at the bottom of the attic steps for him. When he got inside the door, he busted out laughing.

Wandering how an intruder could be so funny, I ran up the stairs.

When I reached the top step, I could see a possum hanging from a rafter looking indignantly at us for disturbing her and her family's after dinner nap.

Now whenever it rains, Joe always kids me and calls it one of my Possum Storms.