A Haunted House

Last week, I picked up a load of my old things from my parents' basement. Among them was a folder from my high school creative writing class.

When I was in high school, I seriously considered being a writer. (I still do. I know I'm not a great writer, and I've really fallen out of practice, as you can see from my blog.) I thought I was pretty danged creative. I got a pretty good chuckle from looking over these papers. Things that I remember thinking were brilliant were sub par at best. However, it was still entertaining, and now I'm going to pass along something for you, very apropos for this week.

This story had no title, and I couldn't find the date of its final revision, but it was originally written around October 9, 1998. I found numerous grammatical/punctuation errors, but left them as is. Enjoy!

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Ryan slowly pulled open the door to the house. As it creaked open, Ryan could have sworn he heard the moans and shrieks of a hundred angry ghosts waiting for him to come in. He was not only afraid, but petrified of what lay inside waiting for him. Ryan hesitated to enter. And then he was pushed inside from behind. Ryan screamed.

“Ha ha!” an evil, menacing laugh from behind him sounded. It was Chuck—the reason why Ryan was here in the first place. “A little scared Cryin’ Ryan?”

“No,” Ryan said. He wasn’t lying, of course, because he wasn’t a little scared. He was terrified. He couldn’t let Chuck find out, though. He had to hide it. He had to be brave.

“Did you bring a sleeping bag?” Chuck asked.

“Yes.”

“Flashlight?”

“Yes.”

“Teddy bear?” Chuck giggled after saying this.

“No,” Ryan snapped back.

“Hey! Chill out. I just thought you might get lonely, that’s all.” Chuck shoved Ryan. “I’ll be back in a little while to check on you. If you get too scared, don’t go for help, because if you do, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Chuck laughed as he walked out the door.

“Stupid Chuck,” Ryan whispered to himself. I could be out trick-or-treating right now, he thought, but instead, I’m stuck in this stupid old house. It was, of course, Chuck’s fault. He had triple-dog-dared Ryan to spend the night in the house because Ryan had been stupid enough to open his mouth. He had actually been dumb enough to call Chuck a liar and tell him that the old house wasn’t haunted. After all, there was no such thing as a haunted house.

Ryan’s thoughts were interrupted by a thud directly above his head. He almost wet his pants.

“Hello! Is anyone up there?” he called out. There was no answer. Ryan was about to calm down, when he heard a scraping sound from the same place where the thud had sounded. “What do you want?” Ryan yelled up the staircase. There was still no answer.

Ryan started to walk up the stairs slowly with flashlight in hand. As he was about to reach the top step, he heard a knocking. He paused. The knocking grew louder and faster. It was coming from a room a few yards away. Be brave, Ryan, be brave. And then, the ghost spoke.

“Help!” it moaned. “Help me!” Ryan wanted to run, but he had to be brave. “Help me, Ryan!”

All right. That’s it. He knows my name. He’s going to kill me. I’m getting out of here. Ryan was about to run down the stairs, when the ghost spoke again.

“Ryan, help! It’s me, Chuck!” Chuck! What a jerk! Ryan walked right up to the door of the room and flung it open. There was Chuck, lying in the middle of the floor.

“What are you doing here?!” Ryan demanded.

“I was coming to scare you. I climbed through the window and I fell and twisted my leg. I tried to crawl across the floor, but it hurts too much. Didn’t you hear me knocking to get your attention?” Chuck’s eyes pleaded with Ryan. Ryan, however, took advantage of the moment. The school bully was lying on the floor, and he couldn’t do anything to hurt Ryan. Ryan walked over to Chuck and kicked him. “Ouch! What did you do that for?”

“You jerk! You were going to scare me!” He kicked him again. “I’m leaving.” He turned to walk away.

“No! Ryan! Don’t leave me here! Help me!” Chuck started to bawl. Ryan laughed, but his back was turned so Chuck couldn’t see it. He continued walking. He went right out the door and slammed it behind him. He intended to get help, but he was going to let Chuck suffer first. He deserved it. He was still bawling upstairs, but Ryan didn’t really care. Ryan picked up his things and left the haunted house.

Chuck was still laying alone in the middle of the floor. “Help! Ryan! If you don’t get back up here right now, I’ll kill you! I swear!” There was no answer. Chuck started to bawl again. He was interrupted by someone else moaning. He immediately shut up. “Who’s there?” The moaning continued. And then, he heard footsteps. They were coming down the hall, towards the door. They were getting faster, and faster until they were right outside. “Who is it! Ryan? Is that you?” And then the door flew open. Chuck screamed at the top of his lungs.