Question: Have you ever shown a house you thought was
haunted?
Answer: There was one showing that I recall with dread &
discomfort; a showing where home features ceased to be a concern, where routine
was overshadowed by fear, where disclosures were eclipsed by an enormous desire
to flee the premises. It just so happened that this showing occurred on the eve
of Halloween. My clients were rehabbers
looking for their next investment. The house was an old, neglected 2 story
Victorian in the country, with leaning fences & dense vines engulfing the
walls, windows & roof. I learned that the property was an estate & that
it had been the subject of headlines when the owner was found hanging from the
rafters of the Foyer. The Police investigation had not determined whether the
death was from suicide or foul play.
I arrived ahead of the buyers and decided I should turn on
some lights in preparation of their viewing. As I pushed open the big, creaky
door & entered, I noticed the silhouette of a noosed rope, still attached
to a high dusty beam. A foul odor of decay permeated the stagnant air, and I
recall reading that the man spent many days at the end of the rope before
neighbors found him. I remember how hard
it was to move from room to room looking for a switch that would take me out of
the darkness. A steep staircase descended into the basement, where I know my
clients would want to check the structural components. As I entered the
basement, I could not locate the light switch. All I had was the weakening light
from my flashlight. I then heard a sound coming from upstairs. At first, it
blended with the incessant creaking of the structure, but now the difference
was unmistakable. It was the slow and steady cadence of footsteps. Hoping to
hear the voice of my clients, I called out. “Hello, is someone upstairs?” No
one answered, but the footsteps continued. I called out again, but there was no
answer. Then a shadow appeared on the stair and moved slowly & silently
downward. A dark form started to take shape. As it reached the basement floor a
putrid foulness filled the air, so that breathing became forced and
repugnant. My attention was drawn from
this to some shadowy object that dangled from its left hand.
But then, the eyes of its disjointed head found me, the lips
formed a sardonic grin, dripping with thick gray saliva. The light of the
waxing Moon gave me a quick glimpse of what could be the ghost of the old man,
hung by the rafters. Its left hand extended towards me and the acrid smell of
cold breath filled my face as it cried out.........
”Trick or Treat!”
