Just Eight Hours

You can do this. It’s only for one night. Eight hours inside the house and you walk away with a thousand dollars. The best part? You don’t even have to do it alone. Stacy is here with you. We’ve been friends for seven years now, anything we do together is destined to turn out well. It’ll be just like any of our other sleepovers; only slightly more haunted. Eight hours. One thousand dollars. A fair trade, given everything that is at stake. Funny to think that just two weeks ago I would have sworn I’d never step foot in this house, or in any haunted house. My friends and family say I’m paranoid. My coworkers have commented on how I can be jumpy. My five-year-old cousin says I’m a scaredy cat. But honestly, I think I’m the only reasonable one around. There are thousands of things in the world that we can’t explain or find reasons for, and those things are better off left alone. I don’t care if ghosts are real or not, they can stay in their houses, and I’ll stay in mine.

Well, I guess I won’t be staying in my own house tonight. I met a man at the library who offered me money to spend the night over in the town’s oldest house. The one house in town that, coincidentally, also happens to be haunted. Every town has its own famous haunted house. The one that middle and high school kids gossip about in the halls and tell scary stories about at night. My town is no different. Our haunted house sits at the edge of town, with dense forests surrounding three of its sides. It looks pretty standard for an old, haunted house. Victorian style architecture, cracked windows, leaky roof and run down siding. I’m sure the inside is covered in dust and cobwebs, having sat undisturbed for many years now. And of course, the furniture is exactly as it was when the last residents lived there. The table might even still be set for dinner. I suppose I’ll find out the exact details soon enough. I was relieved when the man told me I could choose one other person to stay with me. I’d been to that house once before, and I don’t think I could return alone.

My first time going to that house was when I was in middle school. I was walking around town with a group of my friends after school one day. We passed a group of high schoolers who dared us to go knock on the door. We were just kids who didn’t know any better, so we did it. I was the one who knocked. A shocking statement, I know. But that night is the reason I’m terrified of ghosts today. It’s the reason I still have nightmares, and why I swear I’ll sometimes see shadowy shapes just at the edge of my vision. After I knocked on the door everything went silent. I turned to look at my friends, but I was alone on the porch. The town was also entirely different, much older. Like I had jumped back through time to when that house was still lived in and beautiful.

It felt like I was stuck in that moment forever. I could move, but where was I going to go? I remember turning back to the door to see it was wide open. From the porch I could see a family gathered at the table for dinner. They didn’t seem to notice me. I couldn’t bring myself to step into the house. I reached for the door’s handle to pull it closed once more, but when my hand touched the metal, I could see the scene in front of me as it sped forward through time. I saw the family finish dinner and go to their separate rooms. Then I watched as the days passed, the only thing I could really make out for certain was dinner. When all five family members would be sitting together. I was stuck watching their lives, unable to move now. Finally, a scream broke the silence.

That next dinner there were only four people seated at the table. The youngest boy was missing. I could only imagine what happened to him. Time was moving normally now, and I watched as the mother turned and looked directly at me. She seemed familiar somehow. I had the feeling I had seen her picture before. It’s possible she was a distant relative; my family has been in this area for ages. She stared at me, unmoving, and when I looked into her eyes, I could see they were lifeless and desperate. With that, I was finally able to move, and I slammed the door shut as quickly as I could.

I turned again to leave, and I was back with my friends. They seemed unfazed.

“Well, are you going to knock or what?” One of the older kids shouted at us. I looked around but none of my friends seemed aware of what had just happened to me.

“Go ahead Jake. You can do it. You’ve always loved ghost stories.” We all laughed, and Jake knocked on the door, then, in true middle-school-kid fashion, we all sprinted back to the safety of the street. I looked back up at the house and I swear I could see the boy and his mother staring back at me from the front window. My friends and I laughed about it, then we all went our separate ways. Since that night I hear that scream in my dreams, and I can see that boy and his mother in the windows of abandoned shops. I would never have set foot near that house again; except I need these one thousand dollars.

I picked up Stacy from her house at eight. She seemed more ready to go than I was. But she also hasn’t spent the last twelve years being haunted by two Victorian age ghosts. We had both packed backpacks with some snacks, blankets, and I think she brought a couple of board games. Best case scenario: the house has no ghosts, and we spend the eight hours playing board games and sharing about the latest men we’ve been seeing. Although I don’t know how likely that scenario really is. I’m hoping having Stacy there will offer some protection against the two ghosts I think are there. Or maybe they are benevolent and won’t really bother us. It’s always possible they’re only following me around because they have nowhere else to go. I might be the only one that knows they’re still trapped in this world.

I haven’t told Stacy about any of this, she would just think I’m crazy. Everyone else already does. I don’t disagree with them. I mean, it is entirely unreasonable that I am being haunted. But I also know what I see and hear when no one else is around, and it is all very real. When we got to the house, we decided it would be smart to park a few blocks down the street. Trespassing is still illegal, and while there might not be anyone in the house to get upset, other neighbors might think we’re teenagers trying to cause trouble and call the police. We walked up to the door slowly, and as we arrived Stacy looked at me expectantly. I wasn’t sure what would happen when I opened the door, but I was going to find out. I turned the handle, surprisingly it was unlocked. The door swung open, and we looked inside. At first glance nothing seemed too horrifying. Like I had thought, there was a lot of dust and cobwebs everywhere. I stepped inside, waiting for time to go all funny again, but it never did. Stacy followed me in, and the door shut behind us.

There were no lights, just our flashlights soft beams. We both sat our stuff down next to the wall by the staircase and started to look around a little more. Our first hour and a half was relatively quiet. It was a quiet night out, so no cliché thunderstorms or tornado force winds. Just the two of us sitting on the floor in the entry hall of an old house playing Monopoly. As we got to the two-hour mark, we heard a crash upstairs. Neither of us could move, or even breathe, during the minutes after the noise. We sat silent and still, waiting to see what would happen next. Nothing ever did, so slowly, we continued the game, our voices barely a whisper now. As more time passed without another incident, we began talking at a normal volume again. Monopoly is a famously long game, so it seemed like the best choice for our eight hours with nothing else to do.

At about three hours and forty-five minutes into our time here we hear a knock on the front door. Again, neither of us moved. There was another set of four knocks. Answering the door seems like the worst possibly choice, but I really don’t have any other ideas. More knocking, louder this time. Stacy looked at me, then back to the door.

“Should we answer? What if someone saw us come in and called the police?” A fair point, though I didn’t think that was likely. There was no one around when we arrived, and not many people pay too much attention to this house anymore.

“No. If it was the police, they’d shout something like “Police! Open up!” Just stay quiet.” The next set of knocks came from the other side of the house. I’d assume at the back door, though I wasn’t entirely sure where that was. After another ten minutes of intermittent knocking, it stopped entirely. Stacy looked nervous, and I could see she was thinking about calling it already.

“Everything is fine. It was probably just the window blowing tree branches against the siding. There isn’t much furniture left here so it might have echoed from somewhere other than the door. We’re doing great so far.” She actually laughed at that last bit.

“Really? You think we’re doing great. I think we should go. Before something worse happens!”

“No Stacy. We haven’t even been here four hours; I’m not giving up yet.” She rolled her eyes and gestured back to the game,

“Fine then. Let’s keep playing, I’m winning anyways.” We kept playing, and yes, she was winning by a lot. I’ve never had the patience or the strategy necessary for doing well in Monopoly. We made it another two hours before the next incident. A lamp fell over in the living room to our right. I wanted to see it, so this time I got up and walked over to investigate the room. The lamp had shattered, and the glass fragments now covered the floor. Stacy came in behind me, and as she walked in three pictures fell off the wall beside us. From upstairs, we could hear more knocking, followed by the sound of light footsteps running down a hall. After a few moments there was a scream. It was the same one I’d heard back in middle school. I felt Stacy grab my arm,

“Come on. Let’s just go. We can find another way to earn the money.” She looked like she was about to pass out, and after what we’ve gone through in the last few minutes, I completely understand why. But I can’t leave. Not when I’m so close. Another few hours and it will all be worth it. I’ll have a thousand dollars and I’ll be able to prove that I’m not scared of everything. Although, I’ll admit I am terrified right now. But after tonight I’ll be able to prove that I can face my fears rather than just avoid them.

“I can’t leave Stacy. You know how long I’ve been waiting for this. You don’t have to stay with me, but I’m not going anywhere.” She nodded slowly,

“I know you need the money, but this isn’t worth it. We’re both here. We’ve seen and heard all the same things so there’s no way to say that either of us are hallucinating or just paranoid. Something else is in this house with us. Something bad. Please, let’s just leave before we find out what.”

“No. I’m finishing what I started.” I turn away, knowing that if I let her keep talking, she could probably convince me to leave. “I’ll see you in the morning.” When I turned back, she was gone. I was alone… in a haunted house. With that in mind, maybe I’m not as alone as it seems. Not the most comforting thought at this moment. But I’m only here for another hour and forty-seven minutes. The biggest obstacle now is keeping myself entertained for the rest of the time. I think boredom contributes a lot to the idea of ghosts. People with nothing better to do than make up stories to explain what is really caused by faulty wiring or a slightly open window. Whatever figures I have been seeing over the years have yet to make an appearance. The remaining time went by without anything horrible happening. I had almost managed to convince myself that everything I’d experienced over the years was a result of boredom too when I saw the two ghosts again. This time I saw them through the window looking out the front of the house.

I saw the young boy holding his mother's leg. He looked right at me, and I couldn’t decide if his expression was one of relief or regret. I saw his mother, as she lifted her hand to reveal a key. I didn’t understand why, or if it meant that maybe there was something in this house that I needed to unlock. But when I saw the ghosts move towards the front door reality quickly sunk in. I heard the lock click, and I knew before I even tried that the door was locked from the outside. After that, I ran through the house, trying every door and window I could find, but every single one was firmly shut and locked in place. I’m stuck. I looked out the front window again and watched as the mother and son walked down the sidewalk. I spent the rest of the day searching the house for anything that might offer some explanation, but I found nothing.

I am stuck here now. I can only offer suggestions as to why. Maybe me being trapped here was necessary to set the ghosts free? They were the same people I had seen when I was younger and had been here for who knows how long. Of course, I don’t want to be trapped in some dusty house forever, but it doesn’t seem like I have any other options. My entrapment could be some kind of sacrificial type action. The house needed someone to stay here. Whatever the reasoning, I don’t think I’ll be leaving here for a long time. But that’s alright I guess, it has to be. I do wonder if Stacy ever came back to look for me. I never saw my car outside on the street again, but I can’t imagine she would just leave me. Either way, it makes no difference. I wouldn’t want her to come and get stuck too. I’ll just stay in my house, and everyone else can stay in theirs.