Return to the Haunted House

At nightfall, we assembled outside the rickety old fence. Fog rolled in and lightening flashed through the sky, making the house look even more ominous. I looked around at the small group that assembled, taking careful note of who was too scared to show up.

The gate creaked opened without being touched, the sound sending shivers up my spine. Taking that as our cue, the four of us entered the overgrown front yard slowly making our way up the front walk. Wind howled around us but on the air were the soft sounds of what almost sounded like violins. Joey screamed at the sound and ran all the way to his car and peeled off down the street.

The three of us surged forward, finally reaching the large wrap around porch. The wind had died down, yet the porch swing still rocked as if someone was in it. Jake stiffened next to me. From fear? From my nails digging into his arm? I wasn't sure, but was oddly comforted by the knowledge that I wasn't the only one freaking out.

Tim placed his hand on the front door and immediately pulled back. His fingers had turned bright red, as if they were burned. We could actually smell his singed flesh. Tim backed away from the door and us, breaking into a sprint when he hit the driveway.

Jake and I turned back to the door as the thing screeched opened. A light flickered in the room to the right of the foyer. Upon closer examination, a fire crackled in the library's fireplace. Rainbow prisms danced over the walls, reflections of the flames from the crystal glasses on the bar. The glasses were spotless, not at all covered with the fine layer of dust that coated the rest of the house. Next to the two glasses was a decanter of brandy.

Jake went over to the bar and poured himself a glass. He took a long swallow as I yelled for him not to drink. What the hell was he thinking? He laughed and brought me the glass. "You need this more than I do" he teased. As I opened my mouth to protest, he quickly poured the amber liquid down my throat.

The drink burned the whole way down but now pumped full with liquid courage, I was eager to explore. Jake poured another drink and we began to move around the house. The house was massive, full of dark and dusty old rooms. The floor boards groaned in protest at being walked upon for the first time in almost a century.

Jake darted up the long winding staircase, leaving me downstairs alone. A streak of light whizzed by me. I turned quickly to find its source, finding no logical explanation. Then the piano began to play hauntingly, though no one had touched its keys.

The alcohol-fueled courage faded and I screamed until my lungs felt they would burst. I raced through the narrow corridors and up the staircase. When I reached the landing, the old man was there, his face solemn as he pointed back toward the door. I charged forward, knowing the safer course was to turn back, but I desperate to find Jake.

I found him in what used to be the bedroom. He was staring so intently at the closet that he didn't hear me come in. I moved closer to see what had Jake so mesmerized. Inside the closet, glowing brilliantly was the old man swinging from the rafters, a thick rope around his neck. I was too terrified to scream and too scared to look away.

Jake's hand found my arm, breaking the trance. "Let's get the fuck out of here!" he urged. I let myself be dragged from the room. A massive boom rang through the house. The winding staircase collapsed, leaving us trapped upstairs...unless we wanted to jump 10 feet to the marble floor below.

A piece of thick parchment fell from nowhere, landing at our feet. It was a crudely drawn floor plan. Our position in the hallway was marked with a large red X. Arrows pointed us to what was hopefully the way out. We had no choice but to follow and hope it led us to safety.

The map led us back to the bedroom, to the closet where the ghost of the old man no longer hung. We pushed aside rows of coats, dresses and suits stinking of old moth balls. At the back of the closet was a tiny door. Jake tried the doorknob, finding it locked.

I felt the oddest sensation against my hand. When I opened my clenched fingers, a tiny silver key lay against my palm. Without hesitation, I shoved it into the lock and the door gave way. A second set of stairs lay behind the door. We raced down, expecting them to lead back to the main floor of the house and the exit.

Instead, we found ourselves in a tiny room, sparsely furnished. In fact, only 2 objects were inside - gold chest rested on top of a rickety looking table. The weight of the chest was causing the table to bow.

As Jake touched the chest, we were blinded by a flash of light. When our eyes adjusted, we found ourselves on the sidewalk outside the house, the chest at our feet now open. The chest was full of gold, jewels and other riches. And a note written in the old man's hand telling us that bravery should always be rewarded.

Jake continued to stare at the old man's fortune - now our fortune. I turned back to the house, catching a glimpse of the old man in the window. I swear the old man smiled just before the mansion went up in flames. True to form, the old man ended his last encounter with one hell of a surprise.