 I live in the northeast, and I'm no stranger to how harsh the winter can get. It's not common for us to lose power. Whether it's a vehicle losing control on black ice and taking out a telephone pole, or the cold causing a transformer to blow, flash flooding or heat waves, it's a normal part of living in this climate. Yet, it's not always so easy to get used to. I've made progress over the years. I remember feeling like a dog in a thunderstorm. The house pitch black lit only by candles. Eventually my dad invested in a generator, but what happened to me was before all that. And I think it's why what can be a fun and exciting evening of family board games for some has always been a stark lingering reminder of what happened to me and my sister that night. I was young at the time, maybe six or seven, so my memory's foggy. I've asked my mom about it, and she always reassured me it was a dream. But whenever I brought it up to my sister, she would get agitated and stomp off. It's been over 15 years now, and I still can't shake it. It was a stormy night in the dead of winter. My mom was working, and my brothers, I'm not too sure. My sister was in charge of watching me. She was barely a teenager, but to me she was basically a second mom, always taking care of the house and me and my brothers, even my oldest brother, who was her senior while mom was away at work. She's my hero, but even for her the storm was frightening. We were watching TV, switching off between Nick cartoons and Disney Channel pre-teen dramas respectively. But it was getting late, and we were wondering when mom would be home before my sister got a phone call. I guess my mom was stuck covering a shift and wouldn't be back until much later that night. My sister tried to not express it, but I could tell it made her nervous. As the storm picked up and the night was setting in, I'd begun to get tired. But I think her nerves had gotten the best of her. She would nudge me awake periodically to keep watching shows with her. Soon, it was pure night, and I couldn't help but get a little scared. It wasn't long before my oldest brother's friend told me the story of the howler dogs. He said that they come out at night, around ten o'clock, and if I wasn't asleep, then I would hear them. And if I heard them, then it was too late. Not wanting to face the howler dogs, I was on a mission to sleep, or at least pretend to. But it was to no avail. Because by now I'd caught my second wave of energy and was fighting to keep my eyes closed, which was doubly difficult because now the TV was playing shows I'd never seen before, which looked exciting and funny, even if I didn't understand the jokes. My sister was keeping together well too. I think she planned to just fall asleep on the couch to avoid trying to sleep by ourselves in our own rooms, which I agreed was a good course of action. But that's when it happened. The sound of the house yawning out before going silent and dark, all the power dropped, and I could feel both my sisters and my own heart thumping louder. She got up immediately to grab the candles and flashlight she'd prepared while I stayed curled up in the blankets on the couch. Since it was already so late, we could just go to sleep and wake up when it's bright out. It'd be easy. I lied to myself. My sister set the candles up in a safe spot so that they wouldn't cause a fire and return to the couch with me. This was before we had cell phones or laptops or any other means to keep ourselves entertained in the dark. She maybe could have grabbed her mobile CD player, but it was upstairs and I don't think she wanted to make that trek just as much as I didn't want her to go. It's a funny thing when you're as young as we were. Your fears are more abstract. It's not some serial killer or monster that really scares you, as much as the dark itself. The sound of the secure impenetrable walls of your home shaking and wilting. The sound of objects flying by, reminding you that you aren't just a kid, but a person on a dangerous planet. I'm sure the idea of serial killers and monsters would have been just as bad. But at the time I was doing my best to think of happy thoughts like Power Rangers fighting monsters and Spider-Man webbing up bad guys. Which made it all the more relieving when the TV turned back on. It was static-y at first, which upset my sister something fierce, but I was actually the one to calm her, telling her it meant we had power back. She ended up nodding, saying that it was probably the storm messing up the signal. Grabbing the remote, my sister opted to turn the TV off. Before realizing something that shook her, the lights aren't on. I still remember her words to this day. They hung in the air, like saying hello into the phone after an unknown number calls. The silence was static, and it didn't last long. The TV started to crackle and fizz, changing channels on its own, surfing through various forms of distorted static. My sister screamed and threw the remote, grabbing me tightly. I was mesmerized. For a second, I wondered if my sister was pranking me. But one look in her eyes, and I knew this wasn't a prank. She buried her face in my shirt with teary eyes as I just stared on at the static. It kept bending and shifting. It wasn't like normal. It's like it was trying to show me something. My sister stood up and stormed at the television. No, she half yelled, her throat still dry from crying. It was like she was scolding the TV like a dog. And like a bad dog, she tugged its leash, yanking the cable out of the wall. And that did it. It went black, and we were left in the dark of the living room with only the flickering of candles to keep us company. We both looked at each other, terrified, but somewhat relieved that whatever that was was over it TVs do that sometimes. My sister said too mentally exhausted to face the fact that she had no explanation for what just happened. She just wanted to soothe me. It didn't work, but I think I just accepted it because I didn't want that to happen again. Only it did. Before my sister even sat down, the television came back on. My sister screamed and ran away from it to the candles as I watched the big green block indicating the onscreen volume begin to slowly fill up. The white noise of static started to get louder. Suddenly it sounded wonderful, like waves crashing down at the beach or the gentle raindrops from earlier in the day before the storm got worse. My sister was shaking now, muttering to herself. She kept saying something strange. Static doesn't change, static doesn't change. It seemed off and wrong to me at the time. I felt like the static was changing constantly. And the more I looked at it, the more I could see. It was like watching cartoons projected from under a pool of water. They weren't clear, but they were there, characters dancing around and smiling and waving. Some were even calling my name. There's nothing to be sad about. I said to my sister, they're friendly. My sister didn't like that. And whether she was scared or sad, it didn't matter anymore. Now she was mad. Very mad. She stormed out of the room and started slamming around the house like she did when she was throwing a fit. I didn't want to be left alone, but I also didn't want to be around her if she was going to be acting like that. Like yeah, cartoons can be scary sometimes, but it's not like they can hurt you. I gave up worrying about her at this point, but I did notice that the storm had gotten worse. I kept hearing things flying around outside and hitting the house. It reminded me of when the trash bins would go flying or when the basketball hoop got blown over. It was louder than normal, and it kept happening all around the house, which I didn't like, but I knew I was safe inside. As long as the TV was on, then things should be okay. But then the house started rocking. It's an earthquake, I shouted to my sister. But she didn't respond. And it was then I realized she wasn't slamming around as much anymore. There's no way she went to bed. This has been too startling, and even I knew what was happening wasn't normal. I just didn't think it was bad. I mean, every time I looked at the TV, it felt so inviting. It made me feel okay, like nothing bad was going to happen. I hadn't even realized I'd gotten up off the couch and started slowly moving closer to it. My mom always said not to sit too close to the TV, but that's just a thing moms say. And the closer I got, the clearer the picture was. I could see someone, someone waving at me to come closer. He kept calling my name and seemed so friendly. But before I could reach him, I heard a door slam shut. Then there was stomping and from behind me I heard, move. My sister was holding the mall my brothers used to chop wood. And she used it to smash the TV. The first time she sent a big crack right down the screen and I even saw sparks. But she didn't stop there. She kept chopping and smashing and chopping until the TV looked like a pile of broken Legos. I watched her destroy the television in awe. Deep down I knew mom was going to kill her, but I couldn't stop watching. It felt like she kept going for years and she must have because I fell asleep watching and woke up to her crouching next to the pile using the mall to keep her upright. She didn't sleep a wink all night. The storm had stopped by the morning, but the power wouldn't come back on for another day or so. With my brothers and mom back home, well that was a comfort in and of itself. But my sister was basically punished for the rest of her life. My mom screamed at her ceaselessly for the next couple of weeks. She was stuck doing everyone's chores, even though I tried to explain to my mom that she was saving us. I wasn't even sure if I believed that, but I still didn't like seeing my sister in trouble when we were both scared. But my sister would always shrug it off. She made fun of the story and she said I was dreaming when I told my mom. She'd say it was a scary movie or some teen drama show that upset her. All kinds of things. And after all these years, the only thing she's ever said to me about that night was, you weren't moving closer. They were.