Raccoon Lagoon

Ask any kid in town and they’ll tell you McDougall Mansion is the spookiest house in the neighborhood. They’ll also tell you that all its original inhabitants perished mere weeks after moving in, having drowned, allegedly, in a boating accident on the pond bordering the property.

Each year, on All Hallows Eve, neighbors would report screams and mysterious activity. Often times one would see shadows where they do not belong, or watery foot prints on the wooden floors. All this was news to the Smiths, the latest home buyers.

But one Sunday morning little Katie Smith stepped out of bed and her little bare feet tip-tapped on the creaky wooden floor. She was careful to not wake her parents. She went to wake up her brother, but instead of finding him in bed, she discovered a surly raccoon in his place.

A squeaky voice emerged from the bassinet. “Don’t be afraid, Katie. It’s me, Louis.” Katie jumped back with alarm. A talking raccoon? What happened to her baby brother? This creepy old house was to blame, she was sure of it.

To Katie’s surprise, the creepy old house was NOT to blame. The voices were literally in her head, for she hadn’t slept in 48 hours. She was busy researching her old Highland Park High School classmates on LinkedIn, letting out a scoff of superiority at every bartender she saw.

Katie’s graphic design career gave her the freedom to attend a bar without working there but her current client angst has kept her up for two days now - that and the nonstop activity of her McDougall Mansion co-inhabitants

Katie has been up for 2 days because every time she closed her eyes she would see the McDougall Mansion apparition. She was a scientific woman, however the haunted mansion occupied her mind. Was it a demon? Ghost? Spirit? Aliens? There was only one way to find out...

Immediately Katie hit the interwebs to suss out Fact vs Fiction. A series of QAnon forums seemed to put it all into focus. It would seem the apparition was nothing more than a deep state surveillance bot meant to suppress freedom of thought. Or was it?

It was. Comforted, Katie snapped her laptop shut and climbed into bed. Her eyes fluttered as she fell into a deep slumber. Outside, in the depths of the night, the raccoons were watching and waiting. They were hungry.

And while Katie dreamt of Dove bars and rainbow unicorns, the dozen intermittently-fasting carnivorous nocturnals conspired to break their morning fast in an unseemly, yes grisly, way. But as day breaks, she backs her SUV out the driveway and reduces them to furry pancakes.