The House on Golf Club Lane

 

For starters, the house itself was unusual.

It was haunted.

No really.  It was.

I don’t normally believe in phenomena like this but I experienced it myself.

I know what I know.

The reconverted barn had reconverted ghosts.

You became the victim of its wrath if you fell asleep in its room.

Usually it struck (if that’s the right term for it) at 1 in the morning.  Then sharpened bony fingers would grip your shoulder and hold on tight until you woke up in a fright.  (I always thought of it as a he, but it could very well have been a she.  I mean why not?)

This “thing” whatever, was not friendly.  Its physical language was aggressive, clearly saying, “get out, you’re in my territory!”

Besides me, it appeared to both my brothers, and a friend of ours who knew nothing about what happened in that room, but slept there as a guest one unfortunate night for him.

Because it was now a house and no longer a barn, it took on the hybrid effects of both.  So, it had a hayloft with real hay, and a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, a den (property of the aforementioned spirit), and a large platform-like second floor landing from which you could see all nearby doorways to all nearby rooms.

So that’s how I knew for sure that it was this “thing” again, when it rattled the doorknob to the kitchen, yet no one was there.