WHAT MAKES A house haunted? Sometimes it's not because there are ghosts there. Sometimes it's because the old place is infused with mystery, strangeness, and a profound sense of foreboding. These are the creepy elements that have haunted Matt A. for more than 10 years as he remembers a crumbling old structure he discovered along a cemetery road. Perhaps he'll never understand its dark secrets. This is Matt's story....
I was 11 years old at the time and living with my mother after moving back to North Carolina. We finally found a house for us after living in Motel 6s and Red Roof Inns. I, however, was not pleased with the house. My gut feeling or (subliminal consciousness) told me something was wrong. To this day, I still feel that presence. That day I cried and pleaded, but we had already signed up for a mortgage. (Three years later we where foreclosed, due to my mother's mental illness, but that is too long of a story to tell.)
It must have been around 2004 when we moved in, a nice little community hidden by woods. A few two-story houses where being built along a gravel road, which is now pavement. The houses turned into a rich person's suburbia.
At the time, my neighborhood friends and I noticed an old dirt trail next to the cemetery, which was adjacent to the new construction. Its placement seemed odd to me. If only I could have ignored the idea to travel that trail, but my friends and I never played much indoors. So after getting bored of climbing trees, we decided to have a look at what might be down that path.
THE OLD HOUSE
After traveling a quarter of a mile, we noticed the oldest building we had ever seen. It had old wood planks, a tin roof, and was obviously constructed by a simpler family back in the old days. It was in such poor condition that we decided to keep following the trail. It kept going on until we reached a dent in the ground filled with stale mosquito water.
We went back and decided to look again at the old grotesque house. Black wood, either by rain or by fire, neither was clear. We went through the front door. The step to the door missing. Oddly enough, the whole house was facing the opposite direction of the road. A strange smell was all around the area, but we were in the middle of the woods where it seems nobody has lived for at least two hundred years.
The front entrance was nothing unusual, except for a pair of boxer shorts, of all things, on the floor. I was still staring into this room as my friend shouted to look inside the next room of the house. That's when we noticed it was not one, but two small separate houses connected by wood planks at one time. The only thing connecting them now was a dresser.
We crossed over to this house to see very little footing and a couch that had been slashed to pieces. At the time, I had no clue what could do such a thing. We crossed over to the doorway and were greeted by green hornets. When we rushed into the first house again, we noticed the floor giving way. Then we turned in awe as we heard a piano play a note. It was my friend, tapping the key of a piano that had fallen through the floor.
Next page: The attic and the locket