138 Grant Street by Brian Jackson

Brian Jackson is an amateur writer who is trying, like many others, to get his words read. He is retired and lives with his wife, Melanie, a published author, in the sierra foothills. Brian is the editor in cheif of DRR.

Billy Norton knelt in the dirt, crouched down behind an overgrown hedge, mere yards away from the house at 138 Grant Street. Beside him knelt his best buddy, Ricky Livingston. Billy smiled at Ricky and Ricky smiled back. He hadn't expected Ricky to tag along; in fact, he'd expected to be all alone on this excursion. Now, here he was on the brink of the abyss and Ricky was rock steady by his side. That's what makes for a true friend Billy thought as he faced back to probe at the hedge.

Reaching forward, Billy wormed his way between two bushes that made up the hedgerow in an attempt to see through to the other side. Eventually, he was able to wedge his body far enough within the foliage to spread the outer growth with his hands and get a peek at the yard that lay just beyond. As he struggled to do so, he heard Ricky doing the same beside him.

The yard on the other side of the barrier was covered in weeds. There were even weeds growing out of the asphalt drive way. Some of the weeds grew so high that they obscured Billy's view of the house. Billy tried crouching a little taller but found that he could not see clearly without exposing his head above the top of the hedge. He did manage a clear view of the second floor. While stooping he wondered at the towers and broken windows of the old farm house, musing that they looked like claws and gaping mouths in the late afternoon light.

The yard certainly looked like that of a haunted house. The second floor looked haunted as well. At the very least the house looked as abandoned as it was supposed to be. Still, Billy couldn't believe the fantastic rumors that surrounded the place and was determined to end the myths once and for all.

Billy was trying hard to scope out the yard when the first of the rocks landed in the hedge beside him. When one of the incoming projectiles struck him painfully in the back, he turned to face down the rest of the boys who were hidden around the corner of the house behind him. He could see Todd Bolger preparing to chuck another rock. He stopped him in mid toss by pointing an angry finger aimed between his eyes.

"Come on, scaredy cat," Todd taunted. "We don't have all day."

Billy wanted to go back and explain Todd what he was going to do to him if he was hit with another rock. Instead, he remained quiet and turned back to survey the yard. Nothing moved. There was complete silence.

"Are you going to do it or not?" he heard Todd call in a harsh whisper.

Remaining focused on the yard, Billy waved his hand behind him in an attempt to shush Todd. Unfortunately, he could also see nothing in the yard that could justify waiting any longer. Looking to Ricky for his opinion, he watched with some disappointment as his friend responded with a gentle nod. That was all it took to get them moving.

In unison, the two boys burst from the hedge and landed on their chests amid the weeds and dirt of the front yard. Then they started to crawl, trying to be as quiet as possible but producing a horrible thrashing none-the-less, until they were fetched up on their butts with their backs to the side of the decrepit old house. There Billy smiled at Ricky and they shared a subdued laugh.

Peering up to the house, Billy noticed that they were sitting directly below a window. Once more assuming the awkward tall crouch, Billy peeked into the window and was disappointed to find that his view was blocked by a pulled shade. That's when another rock landed beside him in the dirt and weeds near the house. Looking back to the hedge, Billy saw the faces of several boys peeking through, including the face of Todd Bolger.

Wanting to avoid any more rocks while swearing under his breath that he was going to pound Todd when this was over, Billy led Ricky on a crawl around the corner of the house to a rickety fence. Rather than attempting to open the rusty old gate, Billy crawled along the fence line to a portion that had fall into the back yard. Here he and Ricky crossed over the flattened fence into the backyard and then ran back to the side of the house.

It was only at this point that Billy realized they had accomplished the original dare. They were touching the house. Now all they needed was to address Billy's stupidity at upping the ante by suggesting instead that he step inside. Billy was mentally flogging himself for getting his dander up when he noticed something that could end up simplifying his life greatly.

Several yards down the side of the house there was a pair of doors sunk into the earth and from the looks of them they were unlocked. All the time expecting his hopes to be dashed, Billy slid along the side of the house until he made had it to these double doors. Here he crawled out far enough to test one of the doors and sure enough, he found that the door swung noisily but easily open. This meant that they had free access to the cellar, and from there the rest of the house if they so chose. Billy breathed a sigh of relief that they weren't going to have to break a window as he had originally supposed to get into the abandoned house.

Billy sat with his back against the side of the house trying to decide what to do. All of the stories that he'd heard about the house at 138 Grant Street ran through his mind. Along with them echoed the warnings of his parents that he was never to go near the place and that he'd be punished if he did. But in the end, the pull of the unknown forced his hand against the best advice of everyone he knew.

Silently signaling for Ricky to stay close behind by pointing to Ricky and then patting his ass, Billy crawled out into the yard and opened the basement doors wide. He then let himself down into the dark, ignoring the creak of each tread under foot. In no time, he and Ricky were standing side-by-side on the dirt of the cellar floor. Surveying the gloom but finding it impenetrable, Billy signaled for Ricky to go left while he went right. Reaching his hands out in front of himself, Billy through the dark passage until he was startled at running into Ricky where the two passages merged.

"So, is that good enough?" Ricky asked, obviously feeling the tension of trespassing in a haunted house.

"Not yet," Billy replied. "Lets look upstairs," he then suggested.

Ricky looked dubious at the suggestion, but was obviously ready to follow having come this far. Finding the stairs to the basement door, they ascended until Billy found the door to the basement unlocked granting them access to the first floor of the Grant Street House.

The first thing Billy did after stepping through the door was stand and try to penetrate the darkness with his eyes stretched as wide open as he could muster. Before he had more than a moment to glance around he was nudged aside as Ricky pushed his way passed to obtain his own glimpse of the first floor.

The place was dark. Looking into a large room in the front of the house, Billy assumed that they had found the living room. What little light that seeped through the curtains managed to show that all the furniture was covered with sheets or possibly tarps. This and the gloom gave the room a ghostly cast.

"Okay, we've seen it. Now can we go?" Ricky said pulling on Billy's shirt tail to get his attention.

"Not yet. Let's take a look around while we're here." And Billy led the way into the living.

What happened next happened quickly and ultimately took both boys by surprise. In the end it would prove enough to uphold all the myths ever told about the house at 138 Grant Street and keep the house empty until it was ultimately torn down to make room for a parking lot.

Expecting nothing more than to cast a little light on the subject of their exploration, Billy grabbed hold of the drapes and applied his considerable might to slewing them aside, kind of like the way he'd once seen a matador work his cape. Instead of sending the drapes flying open on their rails the fragile fabric tore, sending a terrible ripping sound through the house. The light produced by the large front windows of the living room was equally shocking. The combination of light and sound proved too much for Ricky to stand his ground.

Jumping backward, Ricky caught his heel on something, possibly the foot of a chair, and toppled backward. His fall didn't stop until a set of antlers leaning against the wall had embedded itself in his back piercing his heart and lungs and causing instant death. One of his arms, also pinned amid the thorns of the rack, continued to twitch as Ricky looked up in a final expression of disbelief.

Billy turned with a grin on his face to see what his friend had fallen over. His grin faded as the window clearly lit the scene that lay before him. Then he started to scream.

Eventually, Billy got himself from the house. He didn't remember how. The neighbors responded to his screaming by gathering in front of the house on 138 Grant Street. Later, the police and then an ambulance arrived and then left.

Billy never spoke much after that day. This was probably the primary reason that little was known about the cause of his suicide. But many, the ones who knew his history, could easily guess as to the cause.

There are some places that are evil. They are shrouded in myth and either attract or repel depending on the victim. Some of these places are deserving of their reputations. These places are best left alone, especially by the innocent.