The Haunted House in the Cornfield - Ghost of the Little Girl
Haunted House in the Cornfield
I was three when we moved into the house where I spent most of my childhood years. I don’t really remember moving in, but I do remember visiting our new neighbors whose house was surrounded by a cornfield, except for a narrow drive leading to the house. It certainly fit the part of an old haunted house. It seems strange that I vividly remember that visit; it seems to be one of my first clear memories in my life. The house was very old and rugged, and there was an elderly couple that lived there; we’ll call them the Smiths. I remember that the stairs were scary because there were a few steps that were broken. I remember playing with a young girl about my age in one of the rooms upstairs, and the room smelled pleasant like flowers or perfume.
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Abandoned House in the Cornfield
Several years have passed now and I’m old enough to be getting into some mischief with the help of my two older brothers. The couple that lived in the old house in the cornfield had passed away shortly after we moved in, so it had been empty for a few years. The old house was quietly hidden in the middle of the cornfield and it looked more haunted than ever. My brothers and I got the idea to go check it out one day so we did. The house was really run down; there were some broken windows and the front screen door hung by one hinge. The front and back doors were locked, so we decided to climb in through one of the broken windows. My oldest brother removed most of the glass that was left so we didn’t get cut climbing through. The inside of the house was much as I remembered it, except it was in far worse condition than before. There were some rotted spots in the floor, and the stairs were falling in, in places. One of my brothers said it was probably haunted, and I remember being really scared and wanting to leave, but my brothers talked me into checking it out with them. We went through all the rooms on the bottom floor then decided to carefully climb what was left of the stairs. There were three rooms upstairs each with a closet. We opened every door in that house except one of the closet doors that we couldn’t get open. It was in the room I remembered playing with the little girl in. I also remember that there were stray cats all over the house.
The Locked Door
We went back to the house several times in the following months, we tried each time to open the closet door, but we could not get it open. We even risked getting in trouble by getting into Dad’s tools so we could pry the door open, still no luck. That door was sealed tight; we used a three foot pry bar with all three of us pushing on it and still; the door remained closed. As we sat there thinking about the situation; we heard a noise that sounded like it came from inside the closet. We all jumped back away from the door and stared at it in disbelief. I remember getting a cold chill up my spine, as one of my brothers was saying it was probably a cat. We were still a bit freaked out, but were convinced that it was a cat.
Could this be Our Imagination?
The next time we went to the house we noticed that it had been vandalized. Several more windows were broken out and there was spray paint on the walls. By now our favorite place to hang out was the room with the locked closet. We were all just sitting there, when I realized that there were no cats in the room, and I couldn’t remember there ever being one in there. I mentioned this to my brothers and after they thought about it, they agreed that they hadn’t seen a cat in there either. We decided to get one of the cats and bring it into the room. They were all over the house so it was easy to find one; its neck fur began to stand as soon as we got it into the room. We sat it down in the middle of the room, and it immediately turned and faced the closet, after a quick stare it hissed and ran out of the room. Then we heard another noise that sounded like it came from the closet, and there was a pleasant flowery smell. We decided it was time to leave for the day.
A few days later a man came by the house and talked to Mom and Dad outside. After he left Dad yelled for us boys like he always did when we were in trouble. He asked us if we had been messing around the abandoned house. We all looked at each other sheepishly and in unison said no. Dad then asked with his angry tone, then how the hell did my pry bar get over there. Then he asked why we decided it would be smart to break out windows and paint on the walls. We all told him that we had been in the house, but we didn’t break or paint anything. He didn’t believe us, we got grounded and had to do extra chores for a week. A day or two later, Mom told us that she heard from a neighbor down the road that old Mrs. Smith claimed that the house was haunted. We figured she was just trying to scare us. We went back to the house a few times, but less than a year later the house was torn down.
Years later my Mom and I were talking about the old house; I told her about playing with the little girl the first time we went there, but she said she didn’t remember a little girl being there. I told her everything that I remembered from that day and she was amazed. She said it sounded kind of spooky, and that maybe I had seen the ghost old Mrs. Smith was talking about. I asked her to tell me more about the story she heard. She said the story she heard was that a young girl had been abused there and died of starvation in one of the closets. She also told me that she watched as they tore the house down and hauled the scraps away, while we were at school. She said that a piece of the house about the size of a closet was loaded onto a flat bed truck and hauled away in one piece.
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