No Wicked Vintage Parties

It all started with our son and the cat. Convinced that Kestrel had a secret life of catnip and carousing, my son would admonish the cat when we left the house with: “You’re in charge, Kestrel, but no wicked cat parties.”

The we opened The Alley, a vintage clothing store. At the end of each day, my wife would shut off the lights, set the alarm, and rush for the door. As she locked the doors, she would call out to the dark room filled with dresses, hats, and furs: “Good night, Alley. You did great today. No wicked vintage parties.” Usually nothing happens overnight, except for that one morning she came in to find the front window mannequins wearing just dickies.

One night this week, we got a call from the alarm company. After a mad dash to the store, we found nothing amiss. All the windows were intact, the doors were all locked. There was nothing dislodged from the walls or moving in the air currents to set off the motion sensors. It was a complete false alarm, and a mystery.

Our son began checking through the security camera footage. Our system, which is not connected to the alarms, had night vision cameras that are motion activated after hours. He found that DOZENS of times in the last few months, the cameras kicked on to record for a few minutes in the middle of the night. Nothing is visibly moving, nothing is out of place as if it had fallen and set off the motion sensors. Lots of nothing, over and over again.

Now, it could be air currents from the HVAC doing something funky in the IR range we’re just not seeing. Maybe, its movements of our rambunctious neighbors from the nail salon or the massage parlor on either side of us. The nail techs have knocked things off our walls during business hours.

Or perhaps, with our store filled to the gunwales with clothing and accessories of the deceased, there’s some residual spiritual energy attached to them that needs to bust out every now and then. Think “Heart-shaped Box.”

Whatever the rational or irrational explanation, as we looked over the multiple incidents I told my wife: “Gee honey, I think we’ve got the documentation of those Wicked Vintage Parties you’re always talking about.”


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