The Creepy House
The creepiest thing happened the other day.
I was home alone.
Mark had gone tutoring.
And I decided to step out to go buy a chocolate bar and some other necessities at the Never-Closes-Grocery-Store. So I left (locking the door behind me) and I returned with a bag of groceries and a candy wrapper in my hand. I let myself into the house and set the bag of groceries on the kitchen table. I went upstairs to the washroom and when I stepped back into the hall, I heard a noise. It was coming from downstairs. I held my breath and listened. There was a pause, and then the noise again.
I crept towards the stairs, being careful to tread lightly as the hardwood creaks. I remembered Mark telling me about mouse-like sounds he’d heard down in the tv room the other day. I tried to figure out if these tap-tapping sounds were like scratch-scratching sounds that a rodent might make. They stopped and started with rodent-like randomness in starts and bursts. I eased my way down one set of stairs and leaned over the railing, trying not to breathe so I could listen. I went over in my head how old the house was – it seemed perfectly logical to me that if this was not a mouse, then it was certainly a ghost. It couldn’t be a robber because I had locked the door.
The tap tapping sound was growing quite loud (aggressive even) as I started down the next set of stairs cautiously. I was puzzled. The sound had an eery “typing” quality to it. The light was off in the t.v. room (for some reason that ruled it out as the origin of the sound in my mind), but a lamp was lit in the very downstairs basement and I could see light pouring into the hallway. Hadn’t I turned off that light before I’d left? My heart began to pound with panic. I leaned over the railing and startled myself with the movement of my shadow on the wall. I reached the last landing and looked into the basement fearfully. The sound was definitely typing and I was certain now that this ghost felt very at home – the sounds were confident and the lights were all on.
I mustered up all the courage in my little soul and called down the stairs “Who’s there?” And although I expected a mouse, a thief or even the restless soul of a long-ago-deceased resident of the old home, it hadn’t for a minute occurred to me that I might hear the answer that I did.
“It’s Mark! Who else would it be?”
The creepiest thing happened the other day.
I was home alone.
Mark had gone tutoring.
And I decided to step out to go buy a chocolate bar and some other necessities at the Never-Closes-Grocery-Store. So I left (locking the door behind me) and I returned with a bag of groceries and a candy wrapper in my hand. I let myself into the house and set the bag of groceries on the kitchen table. I went upstairs to the washroom and when I stepped back into the hall, I heard a noise. It was coming from downstairs. I held my breath and listened. There was a pause, and then the noise again.
I crept towards the stairs, being careful to tread lightly as the hardwood creaks. I remembered Mark telling me about mouse-like sounds he’d heard down in the tv room the other day. I tried to figure out if these tap-tapping sounds were like scratch-scratching sounds that a rodent might make. They stopped and started with rodent-like randomness in starts and bursts. I eased my way down one set of stairs and leaned over the railing, trying not to breathe so I could listen. I went over in my head how old the house was – it seemed perfectly logical to me that if this was not a mouse, then it was certainly a ghost. It couldn’t be a robber because I had locked the door.
The tap tapping sound was growing quite loud (aggressive even) as I started down the next set of stairs cautiously. I was puzzled. The sound had an eery “typing” quality to it. The light was off in the t.v. room (for some reason that ruled it out as the origin of the sound in my mind), but a lamp was lit in the very downstairs basement and I could see light pouring into the hallway. Hadn’t I turned off that light before I’d left? My heart began to pound with panic. I leaned over the railing and startled myself with the movement of my shadow on the wall. I reached the last landing and looked into the basement fearfully. The sound was definitely typing and I was certain now that this ghost felt very at home – the sounds were confident and the lights were all on.
I mustered up all the courage in my little soul and called down the stairs “Who’s there?” And although I expected a mouse, a thief or even the restless soul of a long-ago-deceased resident of the old home, it hadn’t for a minute occurred to me that I might hear the answer that I did.
“It’s Mark! Who else would it be?”
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