With the gravel spinning under my bicycle tires, I set out right after breakfast to begin my day of adventure. I wasn’t even allowed to leave my dead-end road, but it was the first week of my summer vacation. And I just knew, regardless of what I got myself into, it would be exciting.
Long before the days of cell phones and locator applications, I knew exactly where my group of friends were that morning. With a pile of bikes scattered throughout the yard, I found them at my friend Charles’ house, right down the road.
Running up to his kitchen door, I was getting ready to knock on it when I heard my friends yell at me from a few yards away.
“Over here,” Stephanie bellowed, sticking her head out of the makeshift clubhouse window.
It was a former storage building that Charles’ parents had converted into an outdoor playroom. It was a simple structure with one door, one window and a few chairs and bean bags littered within its walls.
“I was finally able to get away,” I said, barreling through the door. “I had to wash the dishes first, and it took forever because Maw Maw bought some off-brand dish liquid.”
Although I was only about an hour behind my other friends’ arrival, a plan had already been arranged.
“We are going to that abandoned house in the woods,” Charles said, shoving some snacks into his bookbag. “You can stay if you are too scared, but we’re going.”
“I’m in,” I said. “I ain’t scared of a house.”
Truth to be told, I was afraid of the house. It was an abandoned house deep in the woods behind the road we all lived on. The elderly lady who lived there died many, many years ago. And some of the older kids at school had filled our heads with legends and lore of it being haunted. Anyone who dared to enter there would be cursed for life. There was one story that a kid actually made it inside. They said when he ran out of there, he was deaf in one ear.
I have no idea if the story was true, but I enjoyed hearing and was nervous to be heading towards that fabled abode.
But there I was...on my bicycle heading into the woods behind Charles’ house. I didn’t dare tell my folks where I was heading. As far as they knew, I was in the neighborhood, safe inside a home in front of a television set.
The wind above our heads made the pine trees dance. And every now and then, we would hear a squirrel running through the leaves back up a tree. Charles’ pet dog didn’t even come with us.
And as we pushed through some briars, the house almost magically appeared. It was an older house, and it appeared only have about four rooms. The window glass panes were all shattered. The front door was wide open. And a few pieces of tin dangled from its exposed roof top.
“Well, go on up there,” I told Charles, pushing my bicycle down to the ground. “You drug us all out here.”
“It’s all together,” he replied, picking up a stick.
“What the heck is that gonna do,” asked Julie. “You can’t beat a ghost. They’re already dead.”
“Just come on,” Charles replied, taking a few steps closer to the house.
We were all scared to death. And it seemed like each step took longer to take. Until we finally got to the edge of the wooden front porch. The door opening offered us a glimpse of a dark entry way that broke off into a hallway with two doors on each side.
We all agreed to get on the front porch together, and we all slowly put on our feet onto the rotted wood. So far, so good.
We had to go into the doorway one by one. First Charles went in, still holding his stick. I followed with nothing but my fear. And Allison and Julie were right behind me, holding onto the back of each other’s shirt.
“What was that,” Charles suddenly asked, stopping dead in his tracks.
A slight pause, and we continued deeper into the forgotten house.
Until it seemed like the whole house shook. Charles must have stepped on a rotted floorboard because his body fell through the floor, all way up to his about his waist. Julie and Allison ran out, screaming like lunatics. I grabbed Charles’ arm and pulled him up before we both took off screaming towards our bicycles.
Charles must have hurt his leg when he fell through the floor because as I continued to look behind me, I noticed he wasn’t peddling as fast as I was. But this was no man’s land. He was on his own as I continued to push my peddles as fast as they would go.
We all finally made it back to the clubhouse, out of breath and covered with dirt. Charles’ leg was pretty scraped up, but he was fine. And we departed, vowing to never return to the house or even speak about what just happened.
“Where did you run off to,” Paw Paw, asked as I rode into our front yard.
“Just around,” I replied, trying not to look him in the eyes.
Sitting on the steps, I took a deep breath and prayed he didn’t notice the sweat building up on my face.
“You know...” he said, putting his pipe in his mouth. “There are snakes under that old house. Just so you know. ”
“I wouldn’t know,” I replied, getting up.
I kept grinning as I headed back inside. And I couldn’t help but notice my Paw Paw staring at the woods, as if he wanted to grab my bike and take off.
