The House That Raised Me Pt. 8

I guess I can finally lay these stories to rest here. Should there be any other stories I happen to remember, I’ll definitely post them, but I think I’ve written about everything that has happened. Except for this. Here is what happened after we moved out.

At the end, things were terrible. My dad couldn’t afford to pay the bills and because the family had all split up and he was basically losing everything he loved, he stopped paying on the house and the bills and let the electric get shut off before the bank repossessed the house and everybody had to move.

At that point I’m not sure where everybody went. I was already living with my mom in Cheviot and my step sisters had all already moved out. Really in the end, my dad and step mom were the last two in the house. I was 14 when everybody was out.

There were six of us and we lived in that house for six years. If you believe what the Ouija board told my step sister, there were six ghosts or spirits in the house with us, and they hated all of us and each other. That’s what my step sister told me one day. Put those factors all together and you get 666. I thought that was a creepy little coincidence.

Anyway, 1994 was when we were all out. The house was fixed up by the bank and put back on the market dirt cheap. Every now and then I’d think about the house, but I never took a trip to see it. Mostly because I wasn’t driving just yet and I didn’t want to ask anybody else to take me over there.

Finally one day in 1996 I happened to be nearby with my dad and I asked him if he’d take me by to see it. We pulled into the driveway and he shut off his van. Only I got out to have a walk around. It was strange looking in through the windows at the inside. Everything was nice. The walls were painted up real good, the holes had been repaired, the carpet was all new. It was good to see.

Then I got to the back of the house and tried to look in through my step sisters old window, the one that had been covered in flies. I couldn’t see into it. It was like I was looking in a mirror. I’m not sure why that was.

When I was done I got back in my dads van and he tried to start it, and it wouldn’t start. A couple of times he tried. It cranked, but it wouldn’t turn over. I just smiled. He said to me, “If I have to get out of this van in THIS DRIVEWAY and try to fix this van in THIS DRIVEWAY, I’m disowning you as a son.” I responded, “What do you expect? This is the house from hell and it knows we’re here.” I honestly wasn’t surprised. Just then the van started and my dad wasted no time in leaving.

Six months later while talking to him he said he wanted to let me know that the entire time he had owned that van the only time it ever didn’t start like that was that day in that driveway. Never before, or since.

Lastly, I got to make another stop there one night more recently. It was back in 2007, give or take a year. I was delivering pizzas in that neighborhood and one night I was just lucky enough to get a delivery to that house.

I pulled in the driveway just to see how my car would react. A man answered the door and I gave him his food. After he paid me I had to ask him if he had ever experienced anything strange in the house. Instead of asking me what I meant by “strange” he just said that he was a man of God and that he didn’t believe in those things. In other words, he knew what I was talking about because things were happening there and he was ignoring them. I said “whatever helps you sleep at night buddy.” And that was it, the last time I’ve seen the house. I have no desire to go back either.


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