Well Specters, since we are half way to Halloween, I thought I would post an original short story of mine to mark the occasion. I call it "The Haunted House". Enjoy!
Have you ever seen a haunted house? You know the
kind I mean; the old, run-down house at the end of a street with its windows
boarded and shutters falling off, and the paint peeling and the front porch
sagging. Weeds choke the once beautiful gardens; the brick path is riddled with
cracks. Hideous ivy climbs the side of the house, growing into it like some
horrible infection. A tower looms over the center of the house, a wrought-iron
fence winds around the over-grown yard. It’s the sort of house that, when you
were a child on Halloween night, wearing your plastic mask and carrying a
pillowcase full of treats, standing out in front of the house beneath the
autumn moon, you knew, you just knew,
was haunted.
All the other kids told all sorts of stories about
it, didn't they? They said people actually used to live in that house, many years
ago, long before you were thought of. It was a man and a woman who lived there,
they would whisper, a flashlight below their face to make it even scarier. They
tell you, as you sit huddled in your friend’s tree house, that it was a husband
and wife. The woman was beautiful, the man was handsome. They were happy
together, so the stories go. Until she died.
The funeral was well attended, the husband consoled
by his friends. But his grief consumed him; it was too much for his mind. He’d
had his struggles with many things, drink among them, but everyone thought his
wife had tamed him. But this was too much. He was frequently seen drunk in
public, flitting between quiet and furious at a moment’s notice. He took
another wife a year later; poor thing, not even 18 yet. She was so sweet, so
innocent. But he beat her. Blamed it on the bottle. And afterwards, he always
came crying back to her, saying he was sorry, saying he would never do it
again. And she believed him every time.
Within a year she was dead. The doctor said her
heart gave out, but many suspected otherwise. They said the man had finally
done her in, killed her with his bare hands. But no one could prove anything. He
started courting another pretty young thing. Depending on which version of the
story you heard, her name was either Sarah or Susan; let’s call her Sarah.
Sarah was so sweet, so trusting, just like her predecessor. They were married
fairly quickly, spur of the moment. But just like last time, it went bad fast.
He started to hit her, just like last time. The people in town decided
something should be done about this. They, however, never got the chance to
act.
One night, late in October, Sarah ran screaming from
the house into the street, dressed only in her night gown. She was being
attacked by her husband when something unseen, something invisible had clawed
out his eyes. He thrashed and screamed, and suddenly started to choke on
something. By the time the police arrived, he was dead. Lodged in his throat
was his wife’s wedding band, buried with her when she died.
The house was boarded up, but no one wanted to buy
it. Who could blame them? Sarah, for as long as she lived, which was a very
long time, said it was a ghost that saved her. Most couldn't help but agree.
And so the house sat there, growing dark with age. Children threw rocks at its
windows. The said a woman in white with a shadowy face and blue glowing eyes
could be seen from the top window of the tower. And the house sat alone for
many years, and the neighborhood children grew up with it as their “haunted
house”.
But as they got older, and the challenges of life
wore them down, they lost their belief in ghosts. It stopped being haunted and
became an “eye-sore”, a problem for re-sale value. But you always had a certain nostalgia for it, I know. It was your
tradition, after all, to stand out front on Halloween in your costume and wait
to see the ghost in the tower window. But you never did. And so you too lost
some, but not all, of your faith.
And now it’s Halloween again. You've come back after
all these years. You've moved back to your old town after your divorce, your
marriage in ruins, and your mind in a state of despair. You wanted to re-kindle
your memories of Halloweens past to boost your spirit, and with no children of
your own, you thought you’d carve a jack-o-lantern and hand out candy. But as a
cool breeze caressed your shoulder and darkness fell, and no children came, you
found yourself drawn to the haunted house. You stood at the gate and looked up
towards the window, hoping to see the ghost. And after all these years, you
finally decided to go inside.
You opened the rusty gate, walked up the old brick
path, stepped onto the creaky porch, and forced the warped front door open. You
stepped inside and saw the furniture draped with sheets, and cobwebs festooning
the chandelier. And as you walked through the darkness, you learned this house that
has always been haunted.
Because after all these years, I can tell you that
while you didn't see me, I always saw you from my window in the tower. You weren't like the other children; you weren't cruel or disrespectful, you didn't throw rocks at my windows. I know life has not been kind to you, and I know
love has not been kind either, but I see you now as a man, and I long for you.
After what my husband did to those women… I could never love him again. And so
I ask you now, as the moon rises on this Halloween night: will you join me in
my haunted house?
Beautiful work! You reallllly get the season!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sharon!
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