Based on a Harris Burdict picture
It was a pleasant day in October, and I was beginning a new journey. My parents had just bought a house in southern Kansas. But you wouldn’t be able to call it just a regular house. The house was a magnificent mansion with manicured lawns, a glimmering pool, and an amazing basement which included an enormous library. When my parents had showed me the house that we were going to live in, I was awestruck. It was much better than our boxy, beige rental house in southern California. Kansas was definitely a new place, with less people and humid air. There weren’t many other houses around where we lived, and I was surprised to actually have a backyard. But unfortunately, the house was the only good thing about Kansas. I still missed all of my friends back home and at times I wished I lived there. My only friend here is the library in our basement filled with thousands of books on every topic. The only people I see here are the kids at school and this odd man who frequently visits our house. Mr. Linden, the odd little man, comes in every day at four o’clock for tea. He talks about how our house was fifty years ago.
“You know Margie, this house is haunted,” he told me.
“I doubt that. I don’t believe in ghosts and other entities,” I replied shaking my head.
“Well, it is said that fifty hundred years ago, this house was used as a science lab. But, a science experiment went horribly wrong. The scientist who owned this house created a monster by mixing chemicals and creating a body,” explained Mr. Linden.
“This story reminds me of Frankenstein. Are you sure that you aren’t mixing up books and reality?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s your choice whether to believe me or not,” said Mr. Linden while staring at me. And with that remark, Mr. Linden left, saying warm goodbyes to me and my parents. That conversation with Mr. Linden stuck in my mind like a glue. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maybe, Mr. Linden was telling the truth, maybe he was lying just to scare me, or was crazy.
That night as I scampered to my large room upstairs, I thought I heard footsteps following me. As I turned around, no one was there. I ran and tucked myself under the covers, to make sure that I felt safe and warm just before I drifted off to sleep.
“Ding dong.” I woke up with a jolt in my bed. It was one o’clock in the middle of the night, and I just had heard the doorbell ring. “Ding dong.” I started biting my fist and prayed that the doorbell would stop ringing. There I was, in my bed, totally petrified. Goosebumps took over my skin and suddenly went from smooth to prickly. I glanced at the clock again. One minute had gone by. Again, came that dreadful noise. The door bell. Then came gentle knocking. I tried my best to silence a scream. The door bell rang again followed by thunderous knocking. I hid under the covers while whispering to myself that I was going to be okay. Ten minutes had gone by like this. Now an hour. Then three hours. I stayed up all night rocking myself in my bed and praying. Soon, the Sun peeked it’s safe and bright face from the dark clouds. And with that, the knocking and noise of the doorbell faded away.
It was Sunday, and it was a joyous and carefree day. I stayed in the basement reading away to the lands of beyond and the fun imaginations of authors in the world. Before I knew it, the Sun’s shining face slowly disappeared, and the bright Moon lit the sky replacing the Sun.
After, a filling dinner, I dashed up the stairs to the safety of my bed. I fell asleep just like yesterday and woke up to the noise of the doorbell. I didn’t want a repeat of yesterday. This time, my curiosity overcame my fear. I slowly tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to wake up my sleeping parents. I squinted my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. I slowly inched towards the door and saw the doorknob turn by itself! I was frozen in shock as the stranger, the uninvited guest, who had been bothering me all night, revealed himself. I was relieved to find that it was only Mr. Linden.
“That was fun,” he said while clapping his hands.
“I gotta to admit. That was pretty scary. I actually thought that this house was haunted,” I answered.
“Who’s to say it isn’t,” said Mr. Linden with a smirk on his face.
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