Today, I was having my morning coffee, minding my business in my living room, when I heard a "Picka-piiiing-pop-snap!" from out of nowhere. I looked in the direction of the surprise sound, and saw the tooth that my 8 year old daughter extracted from her mouth by herself, (that I had set atop the fireplace mantle last night for the tooth fairy,) suddenly on the floor. The fireplace is not currently in working order, so we have blocked the opening with a large, painted plywood board to keep the heat from escaping through the chimney. It was built in 1911 along with the rest of the house, and hasn't had a damn thing done to it since. No Flue. No Cap. Fire bricks cracked, and therefore considered a fire hazard.
Yeah. We don't use it.
I walked over to the (apparently) leaping tooth, and tried to pick it up. I found this difficult because the thing was no longer in one piece. No. It had broken. I searched for a few moments for the other piece of the tooth, and did not find it until I stood up, happened to glance over at the top of the fireplace mantle, and noticed the other half, still sitting in the spot I had placed it last night.
Muh wha? Buh, fuhhuh? Gluh? In English, this time: What the heck in the world???
I still have no idea what could have caused that to happen. Both pieces of the tooth looked pristine, white, and pure on the inside. It had to have cracked after it was extracted from her mouth, because there was no evidence whatsoever of any contaminant on the inside of this tooth. I watch enough CopDrama to understand how these things work. Oh yeah, I took biology, too.
We do have a couple of windows above the fireplace mantle, and the sun shines through there pretty intensely when it's not obscured by our default, perma-gray skies. Today was no exception. Things were quite bright this morning.
Or... could it have been something supernatural? Someone suggested that the house may not have liked my offering. I suppose setting something atop a fireplace mantle could be a little like placing something on an altar... I... suppose. And there are times when I do wonder if this 100 year old house is haunted. For instance, my closet occasionally smells farty. I have no idea what that's about. No idea at all, since most of the time, no one would have been upstairs for hours. Still though... on occasion, I will go in there, and... damn. And not just any farts, but... corn dog farts. Maybe this is the ghost of someone who stroked out after the fair? Eh, who can tell?
I don't really know much about ghosts. I'm sure you're getting that from this story.
I'm sure though, that the ghosts living here wouldn't be that interesting. With my luck, they are probably just Reed students who OD'd on something, and are stuck here. I hope whoever it is had more interesting last words than: "Corn nuts!"
Hm. Yeah, I'd haunt people, too. Oh, well...