My Night in the Haunted House

Some people swore that the house was haunted. My wife was one of them, I was not and I was determined to prove them all wrong.

My brilliant idea was to somewhat re-enact the old movie "The Ghost and Mr. Chicken", by spending the night in the "haunted" house. With my ever ready flashlight in hand and Rusty, my golden retriever by my side, we headed to the house on the hill at twilight. Once in, we checked the empty rooms to make sure that we were indeed alone. My footfalls and the clicking of Rusty's paws echoed off the wood floors. Satisfied that all was quiet, we settled in for a summer's night with the spooks. Darkness descended on us.

My trusted lit dial wrist watch showed me it was 10:05 p.m. when I heard a bump in the night. Rusty growled and nudged my arm with his wet nose. "It's nothing, boy," I said reassuringly. He whined.

The footfalls moments later, from the room above, raised the short hairs on the back of my neck. "Who's there?" I called out. There was no answer. I turned the flashlight on and searched the room. It was empty, save for us. I aimed the light at Rusty; he eyed me suspiciously.

Outside, a cold front was bullying the warm summer night. The wind picked up and the trees bent and swayed. Their shadows danced across the walls. Thunder boomed in the distance and lightning bolts etched their way across the sky. The timing couldn't have been more perfect for our soiree with the supernatural. Rain pelted the roof and wind whipped and moaned through the eaves, sounding peculiarly like a ghost. The room lit up with eerie blue-white light with every lightning strike. This was awesome!

A crash in the next room made me jump out of my skin. Rusty growled and his hackles shot up like porcupine quills. I tried to play brave but my insides were shaking like jello. I began to sweat. He whined, nudged me with his nose and began to shake. "What, are you a chicken?" I chided him. He whined again and clawed his way onto my lap.

Suddenly I saw what I thought was a shadow figure. "It" stood in the doorway. "Who's there?" I called out and aimed my flashlight beam towards it. The doorway was empty. Goosebumps raised up on my entire body. A cold, deep, hoarse whisper against my ear said "Hello Mr. Chicken."

That was the last straw. The moment where I cried "uncle". Rusty sensed my raw fear and sprang for the door full speed ahead. I took off behind him, my flashlight beam swaying to and fro erratically shining beams of light on the ceiling, floors and walls as I ran screaming like a girl. Rusty threw himself up on the door, seemingly to break it down, just like in the cop movies. I, on the other hand, was trying frantically to turn the damn knob, and this time I was the one whining.

Another thunder clap and lightning strike and what felt like a cold hand on the back of my neck sent me into a fit of pure terror. I couldn't turn the knob. Left foot on wall, right foot on floor, both hands on knob and...PULL!!!! A primal scream escaped from my throat. Rusty turned and looked at me, somewhat puzzled. He seemed to say "Was that you, boss?"

Finally the knob turned and the door flew open. Wind and rain assaulted us as we raced across the yard to the safety of our vehicle.

We sped through town to the haven of our home. Once inside, I poured myself and Rusty a shot of whiskey. Nestled in front of the fire, he shot me a sideway glance and sighed. He was disgusted with me.....and nothing was ever the same again after that.