Haunted House, Free Essay Sample

My Haunted House Experience I was always skeptical about a lot of things around me. One of my greatest skepticisms though was the belief in all and anything supernatural. I was and still am a solid believer in Science. Everything that is new to me, I always look up to Science for an explanation. Even those times when I sometimes get a creepy vibe, I automatically chalk it up to the weather, the humidity, and whatever other reason I could think of. I’m not quite sure if it was because of my fear or because of my skeptic nature. Either way, I don’t want to find out. However, there was one event in my life that changed my views. That event made me do a one-eighty on my perspectives on the supernatural. My cousins and I were just chilling out on the patio. They— Karen, Mary, and Michael— were talking about some dilapidated house in the outskirts of town, where a family of 5 seemed to have died when their house was gunned by enemies back in the 1940s. The house was just about 5 blocks away from our house. I was lying on the hammock enthralled by the gruesome chase between Scarpetta, Marino, the FBI and a serial killer in the book I was reading entitled, Point of Origin (Cornwell, 1998). I was so into what I was reading when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was my cousin, Karen. She asked if I wanted to go with them and see the house. I was curious as well, so I agreed. We walked for a while. When we got there, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. When I gazed upon the dilapidated house, I shivered and felt a sense of cold dread traveling down my spine. I was wearing three layers of clothing to help abate the morning chill, but I swear I could feel the coldness run through my bones. When I looked at my cousins, they didn’t seem to feel it. Maybe I was just imagining things, maybe it was just the weather. The day was glum, to begin with. The sky was downcast, you know, like the scene in one of those serial killer movies like Seven (Fincher, 1995). I’m not sure about what I was feeling that time so, like the skeptic that I am, I ignored it altogether but deep down I know that there is something there. My cousin, Michael pushed the rusty gates. It made a high pitch creaky sound. We stood in the walkway. There were cracks along the path with weeds poking out. Weeds about the height of my knee surround the house, another testament to the age and uninhibitedness of the place. Standing there, I looked at the exterior of the house. The exterior paint is already chapped and some of the windows have broken panes. Clearly, time took a number on the house. Climbers can be found in the walls. The leaves were deep green in color and the flowers were maroon. We climbed the few steps. The banisters and beams and the two beams that served as the entrance to the patio atop the steps were twisted with the same vines in the wall. I got a clear view of the flowers. I thought they were maroon but on closer inspection, they were deep red, a bit brownish, in color, much like the color of dried blood. There is a sense of gothic beauty in them. My close inspection of the flowers was broken when my cousin Karen called me. There was an old rocking chair on the left corner. Mary thought it funny to sit on it. The chair made a creepy creaking sound when she rocked it. Creeped out, we ventured on. Michael pushed the door and it creaked open begrudgingly. A dank musty smell immediately wafted into our noses. We stepped inside. The narrow entryway from the door was littered with pictures on both walls. I saw a picture of a small boy and a girl, a bit older than the boy. Both were sitting on a swing. The boy was wearing trousers belted high at the abdomen. The girl was wearing a flowery hat and platform shoes. The way they dressed look closely like those pictures I once saw of people back in the 1940’s (History of Fashion 1900-1970, 2016). There was also a picture of another boy, this time with a dog. Then there’s a picture of a couple, the master and the mistress of the house, I think. We passed more pictures along t he way. Immediately to the left of the passage is a staircase, likely leading to the second floor. On the right is a corridor leading to a kitchen of sorts, and immediately at the front is the living room. I decided to stay in the living room while Michael took the second floor. Karen and Mary decided to explore the kitchen. I scanned the living room. The hearth plastered to the front-facing wall was covered with soot. Above the hearth is a large family portrait. What creeped me out upon looking at the family photo is that none of the people, the two boys, the girl, and the master and mistress, were smiling. That is not normal in my opinion. At the side of the hearth facing the opposite wall was a dusty glass cabinet filled with rifles and a small box encrusted with what I can only guess as a single emerald stone at the cover. Looking at the portrait again, I noticed that the master of the house is wearing what seemed to me as a military uniform. I surmised that he must’ve been a soldier and with the badges and stars, a high ranking one. It can’t be helped I guess what with the warring times in the 1940’s due to the World War II (Rosenberg, 2017). The mistress of the house was holding the very same box I was previously looking at and the two boys and girl were sitting in a stiff mann er, similar as to how military personnel sits, always in attendance and at a perfect 90-degree angle. The family upbringing must be militaristic for these kids. I tried to open the cabinet to take a closer look at the box, but it was locked. I turned around to look for a lever but couldn’t find any. When I turned back and tried to open the cabinet again, it gave way immediately. It creeped me out a bit, but I ignored it. The locks must’ve weakened with my insistent pulling prior. I took the box and examined it. I saw an initial encrusted at the bottom, C.G. I wonder what that means. I opened the box, but nothing was inside. I examined the exterior further. I was busy in my examination when I heard a dragging sound. I wasn’t quite sure, but it sounded like chains being dragged along the floor. The sound grew louder and louder and I feel as if it is approaching me. I turned abruptly but nothing was there. I called my cousin Michael to see if he was playing a prank on me, but he was still on the second floor. I called my cousins Karen and Mary. They answered me from the kitchen. I was starting to feel scared, so I returned the box to the cabinet and closed it. Suddenly, I heard a howl outside. The sound coupled with my experience scared me to my bones. My cousins heard the howl as well and immediately came to the living room. It was time to go home. We immediately scurried to the door and opened it. The sun was already setting. I thought that we were only inside the house for a couple of hours, but it seemed that we have wasted the entire day inside. We went down the steps and hurried out the gates. I swear I heard laughter on our way out. It was that time that I started to change my beliefs on the supernatural. Maybe, just maybe, ghosts are real because I could not for the life of me, explain the things I felt and heard inside that house. Bibliography Cornwell, P. (1998). Point of Origin. USA: Harper Collins Publishers. Retrieved from https://www.harpercollins.com/9780062376176/point-of-origin. Fincher, D. (Director). (1995). Seven [Motion Picture]. History of Fashion 1900-1970. (2016). Retrieved December 31, 2017, from Victoria and Albert Museum: http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/h/history-of-fashion-1900-1970/ Rosenberg, J. (2017, August 20). The War Years and a Timeline of the 1940s. Retrieved December 31, 2017, from ThoughtCo.: https://www.thoughtco.com/1940s-timeline-1779951