The Haunted House

unger_haunted_house

 

 

Tales of the haunted house. I was only nine years old and the kids in the neighborhood had told me that they heard a piano playing in the haunted house one night. That place is spooky said Nard and Unie, childhood nicknames.

I grew up in a very rural country area where farming was a business or necessity for most of the people. From my backyard, or to the edge of the back of my parents property, was a cow pasture. The kids in the neighborhood and I would play in these fields dodging cow patty’s and pucker brush. In the far distance and too far to see from where I lived was an old broken down house we called the haunted house.

The time is winter and my dad had bought an old snowmobile that required changing the spark plugs all the time because one side or the other was always fouling. This was very normal for sleds back in the day. My dad had taught my brothers and I how to change a plug. You get the tool-kit from out of the back and counterclockwise to loosen. He would always say lefty loosey, righty tighty. The other trick was to pull the pull cord several times to get some gas in the cylinder. He always kept a bic lighter in the back and you would put it over the open cylinder and touch it off. It would burn the old gas and then you would put the new spark plug back on and usually it would run.

One night I was driving by the haunted house and the plug started to foul. I stopped right in front of the haunted house. I was getting the tools out to change the plug when I heard music playing. Someone was playing the most beautiful piano I have ever heard. I then heard something bang within the house like a chair tipping over. My eyes widened and I started to get very scared. I thought someone was going to come out and grab me so I started running down the snowmobile trail as fast as I could run. It was about a mile back to the house and it was pitch dark outside. I was running and looking back and not seeing anything. I heard a howl within the woods. Now I’m really scared shitless and my pace increases like no other. I finally got to the fence line behind my parents house and tears are running down my face. I reached the house and start hollering for my parents.

I reached the porch of the house and my mom and dad came out to see what all the commotion was . What is going on son? I broke down at the haunted house and someone was playing a piano. My dad looks at me and tells me there is no such thing as a haunted house. I’m  looking at him and thinking how can I reply to my dad with an answer that would make him believe. I didn’t have an answer. My dad was not too happy because now he had to go to the haunted house in the morning to retrieve the sled which required him to walk a mile up the trail to get it.

The kids in the neighborhood still talk today about the haunted house and one of my cousins who lived on the street came to visit it a few years back just to see it again. He told me someone bought the property and tore down the old house and had a new home built. I don’t blame them for tearing it down, it really was haunted, I know it.

©Bilodeau,D.H. 2014

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