It’s been years since we’ve seen trick or treaters on Halloween night, mainly due to changes since our arrival. Across from a large forest, our trees have matured, shrubs grown, the front door down a long dark drive. In reality, it isn’t practical to stop, the neighborhood behind us is large with closely set houses on both sides of the street. The door facing the road was removed long ago; it was at that door our last little goblin tried their best to give us a scare.
The house is one of the oldest home on our street, a fact largely unseen from passers by. Built in stages over the years, the hand hewn log wall tells part of the story; post and beam porches had been converted to living space long ago. When opened, the inner walls revealed newsprint from more than 100 years ago, letters to men fighting in the civil war, and various trinkets. It’s eeriest history is knowing the previous occupant lived and died in their bed room, which is now our dining room.
How many souls were lost in this old house will never be known.
I spent our first halloween alone in the house, fearful the ghosts of previous occupants would make themselves known. Thankfully it was a quiet night; no knocks from doors that opened to stoned up passages, no unseen hands tossing things off shelves.
I’m not sure I slept much that night as I listened for footsteps across the wide board floors. My ears straining to hear the slightest bump in the night as if ghosts would have trouble seeing with every light on.
I’m no longer concerned about ghostly visits, they haven’t made themselves known in all the years we’ve been here. The only noises we hear are from the occasional mouse looking for a winter home. I’m still nervous whenever I spend a night alone in the old house, not of ghosts but instead from intruders forcing their way in.
After twenty years in a home this large and rambling, we’re thinking of moving on to something in a warmer climate with walk-in closets and no eerie history. We don’t want to stay here long enough to be carried out feet first only to be fodder to midnight fears of the next owner.
I’ll miss this old house with his long history, we’ve added happy family memories in it’s long storied past. Perhaps the house has souls silently watch our day to day lives. I’d like to think they were please with us during our time here, keeping a watchful eye over our day to day activity.
