My Experiences with the "Make Your Siblings Poop" Game

So...this is awkward. I posted twice in two months and then decided my life would be best served being invisible on the blogging scene, apparently. This was not intentional, I'm just horribly, horribly lazy. Which is sad on my part, because I created this blog thinking, "Oh, what a wonderful writing exercise this will be! Just write about my life! I can do that!"
Haha.
Apparently not.

Anyway, today I got to thinking about some of the weirder experiences my sister and I have had when it comes to playing that that game that essentially places one person in the ax murder scene of a horror thriller.
You know. That game where you jump out and scare people.
Damn. That just sounds so much less exciting.
We could call it the "Make Your Sibling Poop" game, or the "Laugh at the Pure, Unbridled Terror of Others" game. I like those names. They're an accurate description of what happens. (Except the pooping part. I don't think I've ever been scary enough to warrant the loss of actual human waste. Perhaps that should be a goal? I don't know. Sounds messy).
Personally, I have two stories that always come to mind.

The first story takes place when my sister and I were about ten and eleven. (I made that up. We were fairly young though). We had this ritual of when our mom would send us upstairs to make our beds, one of us (or both of us), would wrap a sheet around herself and pretend to be  ghost, in a futile attempt to scare the other.
These were probably some of the least scary experiences in my recollection.
Except this one time.
I was in my room getting ready. I was gonna be thorough. I was gonna be the best-wrapped ghost my sister had ever seen. I had taken the bottom sheet (you know, that one that is terrible for ghosting because it's got that elastic in the corners so it's a stupid shape) and wrapped it around my body. I was going to pull the pillowcase over my head, and then wrap myself again in the second sheet. I was gonna be so entirely sheet-ghost, that maybe the very thoroughness of my outfit would scare my sister, because there was no way that I wouldn't look like a legit ghost.
I feel like now would be a good time to clarify that I'm the older sister.
And yes, I legitimately remember thinking that.
So there I was, kneeling on the floor trying to pull a pillowcase over my head and failing horribly because the stupid elastic sheet kept getting in the way. I knew I had to hurry, as there was a possibility my sister would come looking for me first. During my struggle, I began to realize that perhaps, visibility was going to be an issue. Would I be able to see? I didn't think so. I figured I could navigate by memory and touch.
Man, I had a lot of faith in my physical abilities back then.
I continued my struggle with admirable determination, but was beginning to consider that perhaps this wasn't going to be the fantastic operation I thought it was. Then, this happened:

Areia: "I am the ghost of Christmas"-
Me: *High-pitched, frightened horse-like screaming noise that may have produced a fart or two, but no one's sure*

When I finally managed to wrestle myself out of the blankets, I could see that my sister stood there, one sheet wrapped around her in a less extravagant imitation of the ghost costume I'd been so focused on constructing. We stared at each other for a moment. Me, cowering on the ground half-wrapped in sheets, my sister, arms raised with a dramatic sheet cape draped around them.
We burst out laughing.
Then our mom yelled up the stairs that we're only supposed to scream if we're in trouble. We tried to explain the situation to her, but it came out as mostly gibberish.
What a memorable moment.

The second story takes place a little more recently. Two years ago at the most. I would have been fifteen or sixteen. Probably.
I had just come upstairs to grab something, when I noticed that my sister was in the bathroom. It was evening in the winter, there were no lights on, and as a result it was very dark. I crouched on the stairs.
I think we all knew what I was planning to do.
Then, for some unknown reason, I had a change of heart. Just as my sister opened the door, I bolted up the rest of the stairs and eased into my room (which is next to the bathroom). I heard my sister walk out, and I quietly moved around behind the door so she couldn't see me.
I heard her footsteps hesitate.
I froze.
I didn't want to scare her anymore. Not really. But what if she tried to scare me? I couldn't reach the light from where I stood. I was already tense. I'd definitely scream. It would be The Sheet-Ghost Incident all over again.
I didn't move a muscle. I took short, shallow breaths so that I could better hear my sister. There was no sound from her.
I breathed.
She probably breathed.
And that was it.
We had reached an impasse.
To calculate how long we stood there would be difficult, but finally, I heard my sister move. She started down the stairs. I waited a few moments, then followed her.
In the minutes that followed, I would learn that she had been just as concerned as I had been. She'd known I was there. She'd thought I was going to scare her. She also hadn't wanted to move. I had inadvertently staged one of the strangest stand-offs in my siblings' and my history.
We laughed about that.
Hell, we still laugh about that.

I guess the moral of these two stories could be 'don't over-complicate things', and 'don't second-guess yourself'', but they could also just be 'if it sounds like something Serina would do, maybe you shouldn't do it.'
I don't know. Whatever you want the moral to be, how about that?

I think this photo suits the content of this blog. There's a possibility that in the future I will write a blog more deserving of this photo, but by that time this photo will have been firmly embedded in the memories of all as being with this blog and change will no longer be an option as it will confuse us all, like, "Wait, wasn't this photo with that weird blog about Serina pretending to be a ghost but ending up in a stand-off with her sister?"

Yes it was, my dear confused friend. Yes it was.