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Ghost Story (pt2)
September 24, 2002
I believe I was writing of my first glimpse of that terrible house, that seemed not so terrible. In fact, it fascinated me, though the fascination drew me no closer to it than before. I felt, at that moment of daring vision, I wanted to live there when I grew up. I think perhaps I then connected with something about the house, its emptiness, its strangeness, its alienation. I desired the house, and loved it, but only from afar. I remember I later even went so far as to phone real-estate agents to try and find the price of the place. Most of them responded with good humour toward such a devilish and inquisitive child, but all. assured me no such place was listed for sale on their records.
All through my teens I avoided the house, though I often sat in the adjacent ‘Desert’ and pondered its nearness. Once, during one of these langourous meditations, I thought I heard strange music from the direction of the shunned and deserted building, very faint yet forming a definite presence - both menacing and stimulating - in those barren surroundings.
It was not until sometime in my early adulthood that I finally visited the shunned house. Yes, I went there, accompanied by two friends - John and Ernest - who had similar interests to mine in the occult, the paranormal, all that which lies hidden from dull eyes and dull minds. I told them - with a mischeivous glint in my eye - of the abandoned place, and how despite its close proximity to all my childhood haunts, I had never once visited the place. They, of course, were all too ready to explore such a place.
We set off almost immediately after the conversation, and I - quite familiar with the surrounding wood and the nearby ‘desert’ - very easily found the house. I remember how astounded John and Ernest were by the strange beauty of the ‘desert’, and how very proud I felt to be sharing this particularly outré part of my childhood with such esteemed and interesting friends. The house itself, in comparison, seemed quite dull. The architechture was certainly unusual for the area, but nothing spectacular. It was big, ungainly barnlike 2-story wooden structure, probably once very solid but now in an extreme state of decay. The boards of the house were subjected to warping, cracks and some were missing altogether. They nonetheless had managed to maintain most of the red staining which had very probably been their original colour.
In the bright light of day it seemed a terribly ordinary thing, despite its odd location and even more odd reputation. It was surrounded on all sides by thick underbrush and overgrown foliage, though which we had to struggle to arrive at the front door, which had graciously been left open for us. It seemed very likely that indeed, no one had visited this place for many years, even decades, for no path was visible leading to the house. And yet upon entering - for despite its rather decayed and dangerous state, we were nonetheless determined to enter - we found it littered with all manner of strange detritus. Old shoes, clothing, yellowing papers, ancient bottles of various colours, remains of furniture were all scattered across the floors of the rooms. There were great holes in the flooring and much of the wood underfoot looked delapidated and in danger of collapsing. We picked our way carefully through the mess, treading a slow path and testing each step for firmness. We occasionaly heard the sound of scuttling, which could only be taken to be rats.
We found the stairs to the second story disappointingly collapsed and entirely inaccessible, so we adhered to our search of the ground floor. Each room seemed the same - littered with all manner of strewn objects, collapsed floors, walls holding only minute amounts of peeling paint or ancient wallpaper. Halfway through our cautious sojourn, we heard the front door slam shut. Although we dismissed it as wind, it seemed not to bode well, and it was at this moment we entered the final room on our journey. |
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