The Ant Graveyard

Have you ever seen the movie "Poltergeist?"  I'm pretty sure everyone has (except for babies, toddlers and all you yellow bellied, chicken-hearted, lilly-livered cowards out there).  Anyway, do you remember how all of the angry spirits of the dead rose from their graves because the town was built on top of an old graveyard, and "They had never moved the bodies!!!"



Well, I am convinced that, when my town was built, they did the exact same thing!  There is one minor difference, though.  My town was not built over a human graveyard, it was built over a sacred ant burial ground - most likely tens of thousands of years old. I know this because the incensed spirits of the dead ants - irate at this contemptible disturbance and destruction to their sanctified resting place -  rise up annually in order to punish all who dare spoil and plunder the sacredness of their holy land.



I feel quite certain that neither the builder of that first home nor the visionary for this town was aware that they were disturbing a prehistoric necropolis, consequently interrupting the tranquility and peacefulness of numerous generations of insects.  I am in no way laying blame on our predecessors who made this town what it is today.  I have thought a lot about the founding of this village, and have concluded that it must have been early summer when the construction of the first of all our many homes commenced.  I believe this to be true because, each and every year,  on the first warm day,  the hostile apparitions make their presence known - and there is nothing that can stop this eerie and frightening occurrence.  My family has attempted for years to keep the ghosts at bay.  Each winter we work tirelessly, caulking all of the cracks in our walls, repairing every hole, filling any fissures, covering even microscopic pinpricks found only by means of a painstakingly slow, precise examination. We each go over every square inch of wall, floor and ceiling, making sure that no possible entryway is overlooked - but still, on the first warm day, they always appear.  Clearly, as our house is a veritable fortress against unwanted critters, even those of microscopial stature, these supernatural phantasms possess the ability to pass directly through walls, floors and ceilings.  Nothing can stop them.



I'm afraid it's true. My house is haunted by zombie ants. From the first warm day of each year until the first frost of winter, these ghouls spread terror throughout my kitchen, my house and my very soul. For those of you unbelievers out there,  I have absolute proof, impervious evidence, that these disembodied spirits who choose to appear  in the form of ants are actually and truly the undead.  They cannot be killed by any acknowledged method.  Believe me - I have tried each and every purported ant killing system, always with the same result.  I have purchased and set every kind of trap. I have lined walls and counter tops with ant killing gel. I have sprinkled ant killing powder, which the ants carry back with them to the colony, on every surface of my home. I have surrounded the outer foundation of my house with ant killing stakes. I have even, in total desperation, combined bleach and ammonia, resulting in the intensely dangerous, life-threatening compound: Nitrogen Trichloride.  After clearing my home of all living things, and donning a gas mask, I sprayed this deadly mixture generously onto every square inch of my home - but after a week, when it was finally safe to return, we found that these uncompromising, unfathomably robust entities remained, unharmed and prepared for combat.  I  tried garlic, crosses, holy water, silver bullets, circles of salt, mixtures of herbs known for their supernatural powers, strange and mysterious potions,  magical incantations and medieval poisons.  I have set off ant bombs. I have plugged in devices that let off a high frequency, constant and annoying screech not detectable by humans - but detested by ants. I have tried to smoke them out, soak them out and freeze them out. I even, once, rented an anteater for a two week period - but have been told that the  wretched beast has never recovered from the terror that he experienced while in my humble domicile.   Everything I have told you points to one simple, indisputable fact.  These ants cannot be killed - because they are already dead!!!



Even when I dare to venture outside of my cursed residence, I am not free!  While in South Carolina, I stepped off of a swamp path in order to get the best possible picture of my family, and suddenly I began to experience excruciatingly painful stinging over the entirety of my legs and feet.  I began jumping, slapping frantically at my afflicted skin, screaming obscenities and throwing my shoes - frightening my children as well as any nearby wildlife - and I swear, on my own husband's very life, that when I looked down to see what horrid creature had attacked me so violently - it was the same 'Ants Of The Living Dead' I have come to know and dread. These were the very ones that haunt me whether I am asleep or awake.   I stared down in silence, panic-stricken, utterly paralyzed by fear.  It was beyond understanding, but I must testify to the absolute, genuine existence of the following, wholly undeniable, horrifyingly grievous, yet altogether genuine vision that I encountered.   There was what seemed to be an infinite number of fire ants engulfing my lower extremities, painfully seizing my skin with their dagger-like, torturous jaws.  But, between bites, each of them gazed up at me with complete malice.  Still, even more distressing than the realization that I was being assaulted by enraged fire ants, even more petrifying than the knowledge that the current pain I was feeling would be neither easily nor speedily alleviated, was the eerie, well-known expression in the eyes and in the demeanor and aspect of these agonizingly familiar insects.  You see, these monstrous creatures of darkness were smiling up at me with the precise malevolence I had become accustomed to in my home as well as in my most devilish, most dreaded, most terrifying nightmares.




In addition to finding these vile miscreations to be unspeakably wretched,  I am often left stunned and utterly dumbfounded by their mystifying speed and cunning thievery.  Just recently,  I dropped a single cheese cracker onto the floor of my bewitched kitchen.  I immediately bent down to retrieve this delicious tidbit, but before my fingers were allowed to acquire and retrieve this object of sustenance,  hundreds of these apparitions had appeared, as if they had manifested from some unearthly realm.  I found myself suddenly dazed, astonished and stupefied - I could do nothing but stand watching, mouth opened in an expression of shock, while these spectral ghouls retreated, carrying this scrap of human nourishment down into the depths of direful darkness from which they had emanated.  These paranormal tricksters have even managed to enter areas that are absolutely impregnable - completely unattainable.  Nothing is safe from these miniature criminals and their wily deceit.  They raid and plunder without remorse.  Their abilities are mystical, unfathomable and incomprehensible.  I will never come to fully understand either their motives or their methods.  These deplorable scalawags have provoked my wrath and have caused me unforgivable agony and torment with their deceptive conjuring.  The most dreadful, unspeakable, inexcusable act on the part of these vile barbarous assailants has been their persistent  systematic destruction of entire jars of my most beloved peanut butter.  Jars of peanut butter that have been closely examined, screened, tested, and then counter-checked using precise and foolproof methods.  I will assure you that each jar was put away air tight, inaccessible, with a securely fastened lid. I swear to you that each and every peanut butter jar was stored in a condition that was invulnerable - untouchable - utterly immune to attack or penetration.  Still, it must never be forgotten that we are discussing creatures of unnatural intelligence, deceptive cunning, calculated scheming and unspeakable evil.  They are aware that peanut butter is my favorite food, and due to their insatiable desire to cause  infinite misery and desolation to all people daring to live upon their land - they are wholly dedicated to being both viciously deceptive and pitilessly cruel. They have used their knowledge of my favorite food - knowledge attained through espionage and subterfuge - in order to damage me in the the most profound and unfathomably intense ways imaginable.



One of the most terrifying experiences of my life occurred as a result of my attempt to outsmart, outwit, and finally rid my existence of these detestable brutes.  I had purchased, from a catalog, a Praying Mantis egg sac which I kept in a mesh cage.  I was anxiously, excitedly awaiting the emergence of innumerable hungry and capable baby mantises. I had what I perceived to be an infallible plan.  I would have no problem feeding to the young mantises the very ants who had filled my existence with undeniable torment and anguish.  The idea was so simple, yet so flawless and clean.  I would merely place a single froot loop into the dwelling place of my newly hatched mantises, thus luring the devilish ants to their doom.  However, these miniscule beasts,  calculating and vicious , were able to outwit me and circumvent my plans in a most foul and untoward  manner.  I was anxiously anticipating the impending arrival of my mantis hatchlings - my soon to arrive rescuers from the sinister shadow that had overtaken my once beloved home.  I was filled with the giddiness of hope and anticipation.  But then, on one disastrous Saturday morning, I awoke to discover a most gruesome, macabre display of inconceiveable devilishness.  The image of that morning has been etched permanently onto my psyche, and I do not believe I will ever overcome the guilt that has stemmed from the knowledge that it was my own selfish actions that caused the ghastly and brutal demise of my poor, innocent, beautiful unborn praying mantises. As was my ritual at that time, upon rising, I immediately glimpsed into the lovely habitat I had created for the impending birth of these already beloved individuals, checking the egg sac to see if the exhilarating day had finally arrived.  However, the ghastly events of that one fateful morning brought an abrupt end to all of my optimism and bliss. When I peered, that morning,  into the enclosure of my dear egg sac,  I was confronted with an unbelievably horrific, dreadful, and utterly hideous display of fiendish violence and malice.  Those highly intelligent, diabolical beings were inside the carefully crafted praying mantis environment - and they were savagely tearing the unborn, yet distinctly alive mantises from their life giving, protective egg sac.  As if that were not enough - they proceeded to systematically dismantle the bodies of my mantises. My young warriors, my future saviors, my anticipated deliverers from these hell-hounds , demolished.  These pathologically morbid, loathsome, ghoulish entities had, in this single action, destroyed my blissful vision of an approaching light that would challenge, oppose, beat back and defeat the darkness that had permeated my existence.  Instead, the enemy bore down and destroyed my champions before they were given the opportunity to come into existence in the world outside of the warmth and safety of their miraculous egg sac.  I will never forget this repulsive vision,  this absolutely devious act on the part of the ants, or the tragic demise of the mantises - who were cheated out of life, attacked with no means of self-defense and no protection. This will stay with me until death - it has been several years since that day, but I am often awakened late at night due recurring visions of the wicked abominations that annihilated both my young heroes and my innocence.



It has been many years, and I have had many experiences, so I don't remember clearly how, in the movie,  they resolved their poltergeist problem.  I think that at one point they may have procured the services of a professional who promised to expel evil spirits.  I have considered, as one final, desperate attempt, the idea of bringing in a priest who is an expert in the exorcism of the type of repugnant, detestable, pugnacious presence with which I have been forced to co-exist. However, after all these years of  unsuccessful attempts, of hopes obliterated, of dreams demolished, I have lost my ability to trust that anything will will rid me of this hex. I can no longer bring myself to believe in the possibility of an end to this torment that has become my life, my very existence.  I do not think my fragile spirit could survive another upset.  If I remember correctly, in the movie, the final result was that all of the people living in the haunted town were forced to move elsewhere, and all of the buildings, having been erected on accursed land, were torn down - therefore placating the disturbed spirits - subsequently ending the reign of terror that these disembodied beings had brought forth.  Unfortunately for myself, my family and my poor suffering community, evacuating this town  is simply not practical considering the current economy. It would be impossible to consider returning this land to the disturbed, wrathful, incensed evil spirits who, in ancient times, deemed it consecrated, sacred ground where generations of  ants would experience peace and eternal rest.   For now, I suppose, I will just have to accept living in a house that is doomed to be eternally inhabited by the enraged, tempestuous spirits of thousands upon thousands of scorned, disrespected, spectral ants.  Other than that, all I can do is keep my peanut butter in the refrigerator where it seems to be safe from supernatural sabotage - at least for the time being.