House at End of the Street

"Well Rebecca, I think you'll find this place is much different than Houston," the friendly elderly man says with a smile that is very heartwarming. It's the sort of smile where you can tell the person is being honest and they have no ill will at all in their hearts. As sad as this sounds, it's been a while since I've seen a smile like that.

I happily return his smile, agreeing with him with all my heart. This small town in the middle of no where Washington state is about as different as you can get from where I'm from. It's as different as night is to day.

"That's what I'm counting on," I tell him, brushing my long black hair behind my ear as I tend to do when I get nervous. When I do this, I notice how different my hair feels here. After living my 30 years in Texas, I've gotten used to humidity messing with my hair on a daily basis. But here? Here my hair feels smooth and fine, almost like a model's.

I know my smile shows that I'm very much glad for a change. If I never have to go back to high heat, right-wing extremists, humidity, tornados, gang members, hurricanes or any of the other bad crap that you live through in Houston, I'll be happy. If my life becomes as boring as a snail is slow, I will never complain.

"Oh, look at me trying to talk your ear off," the kindly old man says after checking his wristwatch. I'm not sure how long it's been but I would guess we've been talking for at least 20 minutes here on my front porch.

"I know you have to unpack, so I'll let you be," the elderly man says, giving me that smile again. I have to admit, I do like that he's my new neighbor. I'm not used to knowing my neighbors so to have one that seems as nice as he is, is a nice blessing.

This man, whose name is Charles, lives across the street from me. When I arrived yesterday with the moving truck, he was raking his yard. Even though he had no clue who I was and that I was his new neighbor, he still gave a friendly wave as we approached. Then today he walked over and introduced himself, wanting to welcome me to the neighborhood.

As I had hoped, he gave me the general rundown of the neighborhood and said how calm and peaceful it is. That the most trouble they ever get is that sometimes the kids will ride ATVs down the streets, which I can live with. I'm so used to idiot children getting drunk and firing guns in their homes that I'll take ATV's on the street any day.

I was also so impressed that he didn't gossip or talk bad about anyone on the street. There was no, "watch out for this person," or "I heard that they were in jail," or anything like that. All he did was mention the people that are my neighbors, saying their names and what they did for work.

"Thank you so much for stopping by. Sounds silly I know, but you really have made my day," I tell Charles, hating how much of a girl I sound like when I say this. My voice can get so high pitched when I get happy.

"Oh, it was my pleasure, clearly," Charles responds as he turns to start walking. His steps are slow but steady as he walks across my new porch. When he reaches the small set of stairs, he grabs hold of the banister.

"Just...one last thing," Charles says, his demeanor changing somewhat. He looks back at me where the nice and kind old man expression is still there, only now it seems changed. It almost seems like he doesn't want to say this next part. Like he doesn't want to have to tell me whatever it is that he's about to tell me.

I brace myself for what I think he's going to say, but am hopeful I'll be wrong. As a somewhat attractive woman, I get hit on all the time by older men. Not that there's anything wrong with it, I mean we are all human and have urges, it's just, I'm not interested. I'm 30 years old and like to date around my own age.

When older men hit on me, they always try the father figure route. Where they claim they can support me and make sure I am cared for, but I'm capable of supporting myself just fine. That's why I was able to make this trip. I have a decent job and I don't buy tons of stuff I don't need. Unlike most of the other women I know, I barely have that many clothes. Maybe like half what most others do.

"You are going to think this is silly, and I know I'm just going to embarrass myself," Charles starts, looking towards the ground to show his embarrassment. At this I nearly groan as I know what's about to happen. As he's a very nice and sweet guy, I try and search for the right words to decline his offer. I do find it sort of messed up that he would pretend to be the nice and kind neighbor if all he was wanting was a date.

"There's a house, it's at the end of the street," Charles then says, surprising me. I was so sure he was about to ask me out I nearly said out loud "thank you but I want to focus on myself right now." When he clearly is talking about something else, I get stunned for a moment and can't say anything.

Charles then walks down the stairs of my porch and points down the road. Following him but staying on the porch, I look to where he points, to a small house that sits on the corner.

There's no doubt which house he's pointing to. The houses on the street have a lot of land attached to them, so they sort of sit by themselves. I know my place has a half-acre backyard.

Looking at the house I see it's normal looking house. Maybe a bit small compared to the other laces here. One story, cookie-cutter build, bland landscaping. Nothing special. Nothing even unique. Just a house.

"What, a pedophile live there? Or is it a meth lab? A drunk sex offender?" I ask seeing how grave Charles expression has become. Charles smiles at this then shakes his head softly, letting me know that it's nothing as serious as that. It does help to quell the concern that was building as it felt like Houston had followed me here.

"No, no," Charles says, waving my concern away. But his face stays darkens all the same. It lets me know that he really is concerned about that house. This confuses me. If an aggressive asshole doesn't live there, what could be so bad about it?

"Like I said, I know this will make me sound like a senile old man, and maybe I am one, but...I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't tell you," Charles says, but says it more to himself.

Becoming more interested, I take another look at the house, wondering what could be so special about it. Upon a second look, I do notice it doesn't have a garage. Every house here has one attached to the main house, but not that one. Instead it has a metal car park, giving the impression that it's much older than all the other houses here.

"There's something wrong in that house. Don't know what, and don't know how. Never wanted to know. It's empty as my son's head, but there's something bad about it. Very bad. Bad enough that everyone knows to stay away from it," Charles finally tells me, looking me directly in the eye. When he does this, I see how serious he is and that he believes this fully.

"I...I don't get you. What do you mean? You saying it's haunted?" I question, wanting to know exactly what he's talking about. To my ears, it sure sounds like he's stating it is haunted.

"Well now, I hesitate to use those words, but if that's what you want to say it is, that's fine with me," Charles responds. The way he says this is sort of like saying it without saying it.

I check Charles' eyes again to see if this is a joke. Being from where I'm from, I am used to trying to get scammed. It's just something you deal with when you work in downtown. So I know this would be a great way to mess with me. Tell the new girl to the street a ghost story to scare her. Like I'm the new kid in school.

"Funny stuff happens there. Weird stuff. And things go missing that get too close," Charles informs me while staring at the house. His brow furrows as he says this, as if speaking from personal memory.

"Things? Like...people?" I question, my face making a frown as I don't understand. What else would get close to a house?

Charles nods a single nod while still looking at the house, making it seem like he's lost in thought. Staring at him, I decide that if this is a joke or rib, then he's a damn good actor. He really looks like he believes what he's saying. But I mean, come on, he's saying there's a haunted house on my street.

"Now you have to tell me more Charles. That's like dropping a grenade in a room and walking off. Tell me some details," I say rather excitedly to try and break up his bleak mood. Only it doesn't help at all. He gives an expression that seems to say he rather be kicked in the balls than talk about it more as he stares at the house.

"Just funny stuff," Charles finally says after snapping out of it. He then looks at me, his expression lighting up some, but still staying serious.

"People seeing things that aren't really there. Seeing stuff that don't exist, like spotting weird furniture inside. Or seeing figures watching them from the window, even if the place is locked up tight and no one has lived there in 20 years," Charles explains.

I am again taken aback as I thought he would stay the typical haunted house stuff. Books flying about, flickering lights, shadow men floating about. Maybe even the Devil with his pitchfork laughing every night at midnight. But what he's described is rather, well, boring sounding.

"Weird furniture?" I question. Out of all he just said, that's the part that sticks out the most. How can furniture be weird? And of all the things a haunted house to do, why would it make weird furniture and not something scary?

"Yeah. Miss Cindy that lives a street over said that she was walking by one night," Charles begins, motioning to the street behind us. When he says this, his voice does get a bit faster, showing either he's getting excited about what he's about to say, or scared.

"She takes a walk every night, and when she started to pass the house, it was normal-like with all the lights off. Then she looked again and saw every light was on, even if it doesn't have a single light fixture," Charles explains his voice still fast.

"This concerned her cause it's not supposed to have any power. That's when she takes a good look at the house, right in that bay window there, and saw a wooden table with legs that had to have been nine feet tall. No chairs, mind you. Just a table so tall it nearly hit the ceiling. Oh...it gave her a fright something bad," Charles tells me. Right after saying this, his eyes reveal the intense fear that he's feeling.

I don't say anything after he finishes. Instead I look at the house and see the bay window. It's a large window that stretches nearly from the ground to the ceiling of the small house. From here I can't really see anything as the sun is shining off it, reflecting the brightness at me.

"Anyone else see the table?" I question, without thinking. It comes out as a reflex. As is normal for me, I assume whomever Cindy is, made it up. But of all things to make up, it is a rather odd lie. Creative though.

"Nah. Like always with that house, it disappears. That's the way the house is. Things that are there, aren't. And when they are, they only there to drive you mad and make others think you crazy," Charles proclaims. There's no denying with this statement that he's had interactions with the house as well. That something personal happened to him.

It's at this moment I know I have a choice. One, I could tell him that I know this is bullshit. But I don't think I will do this because he believes what he's saying. I think he really does believe that house is haunted. Or I can do the opposite and go along with what he is saying. Basically play along but be on the look out to see if this is some set up to another scam.

"Alright Charles, you have convinced me. I will stay away from that house," I say in an upbeat manner, again trying to make light of the situation. His mood has gotten so serious and dark that it's starting to make the bright sunny day seem cloudy.

"I sure hopes you do. If I was you, I cross the street if you even get near it. For some reason, it seems to like women the most," Charles states, staring hard at the house again. This conveys that he is again reliving some horrible memory in his head, only now I think it involves a woman and that house. He then shakes his head as if coming out of a trance.

"Well, that's enough out of me. I know you have a lot of unpacking and don't need me with my old man ghost stories to bug you," Charles states, his friendly demeanor returning. Like dirt falling off during a shower, the grim mood that just held him slips away, making that friendly smile return.

"Not at all. I love ghost stories. Could hear them all day long," I say in an effort to comfort him, which is very true. I've always been a horror fan. Not that I really believe such stuff exists, but it is very fun to get yourself scared. Especially with things that people claim are true.

Charles says his goodbye greeting and then walks across the street to his house. As he does, he makes sure not to look at the haunted house. He does this in such a way that I can tell it's what he's doing. But a couple of minutes later, he's in his own house and safe from the sight of the evil, haunted house.

Alone again, I take a moment to look around at my new neighborhood. I really do like it here. The houses all have a great big yard so they are not on top of each other, which is what I am used to. Where I used to live, you could go between the house next to you and touch both by stretching out your arms.

The houses here all have personality. They have charm. It really feels like the small town that it is supposed to be. It makes me feel that I really am home. That this is where I belong.

After Charles' visit, I go back inside my own house, preparing to unpack more. So far the unpacking has been going slow as I can't seem to make up my mind about what I want each room to be. I have four, nice large rooms to customize and set up, and can't seem to decide on what I want them to be.

For several hours I unpack by myself. With music playing and me moving about, I feel very good about myself. Like I finally made the right choice for myself. That everything is going to come together for me and all will fall into place.

Once dusk begins to fall, I decide to stop unpacking. This is because I decide I need to go out and celebrate my move. That I need to find out all I can about this new town. To see what stores it has, what type of people, and what type of bars.

So I take my first official shower in my new house, and prepare to go out. This alerts me that I'll need to replace the shower head, but overall I am very happy with my new bathroom. In fact, I am very happy with myself. So much so that I look at my naked form in the mirror.

Normally I frown when I see my breasts as I wish they were bigger, but not this time. When I look at myself, I think how my B cup boobs look perfect on my frame. I'm only 110 pounds and five foot, so if they were any larger, I would no doubt look funny. Overall I am very happy with my body, which I haven't felt in a long time. Sure there are parts that I wish I could improve, but those are parts that happen due to age. Otherwise I am in very good shape as I work out 30 minutes each day.

My sexuality is one thing that I worry about in this place. You see, I'm bisexual. Do I mean that I get drunk and sleep with other women? No. I mean that I've dated both sexes in stable long term relationships. I can be attracted to either gender, which I know some people find to be strange or even weird.

If I do go on a date with a woman around here, would people react badly? Or would it be the sort of thing we would have to keep in secret, which I probably wouldn't do. Would there be anyone to scream that we are going to go to hell? I would like to say no. That the people here so far seem like normal human beings. That even if they don't agree, they wouldn't do anything violent.

Where I came from? Oh yes. There is a large percent of the population that loves to hate. I remember one date I was on, a drunk asshole actually followed us the entire night when he saw my girlfriend and I holding hands. He followed behind us, yelling and saying how we are what is wrong with America. That we were groomers and going to hell. But by the end of the night he broke down sobbing, admitting he was gay himself and begging us if we would watch him suck a cock. Needless to say the cops were called as the man had issues he needed to work through and wouldn't stop following us.

Happy, I get dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a nice white top for a very casual look. After putting on a bit of makeup and dying my hair, I go to the closest bar according to google. Closest being a weird choice of word as the place is nearly 20 minutes away. Well, that's another difference from where I'm from, there's a bar on every corner almost.

Several hours later, I drive back home. With several cocktails in me, I feel very excited and very happy. Not because I met anyone or am about to hook up, but because I'm going to have my first night in this new house. In fact, I barely talked to anyone tonight. Instead I just sat and listened to music.

After parking in my garage, I walk down my driveway. I walk all the way until I am at the street, where I can see a clear view of my new street. Standing here and taking deep breaths, I notice just how quiet it is. It's deathly quiet. No sounds of cars, or sirens or even people yelling. There's no honking or the zooming sounds of the freeway or the occasional sound of what you hope is a car backfiring and not a gunshot.

For a while, I stand here, enjoying the first night in my new home. The night is nice and I just love how there's no humidity. It makes me want to sleep out here. It's just so nice and mild. It won't take me long to adjust to this weather as where I came from could be labeled as Hell. I just hope I never take it for granted.

Scanning my neighbor's houses, I land on the house at the end of street. The house that Charles said was haunted. The one I've taken to call The Haunted House.

Looking at it, it's like any small house you would find anywhere. There is absolutely nothing strange about it. It's the sort of house everyone has seen a million times. The type that is hard to remember because it's so bland.

I then notice that the more I look at the house, the more I notice. More details seem to pop out which I didn't notice before. Sort of like when you blow up a balloon you can see the writing that's on it much better.

The first new thing I notice is how close the small house is to the street. All the other houses here seem to sit right in the middle of their plot, with tons of space between the house and the street. My house has a walkway from the street that has to be at least 30-40 feet until you reach the steps of the porch. But the Haunted House is maybe 5 feet from the sidewalk, making it really close. That's is rather odd the more I think about it.

Also, the bricks on the Haunted House are blue while all the other houses here have red. But that's not the only weird thing about the bricks. They seem different from normal bricks somehow. All the other houses have normal sized bricks, the type you spot all the time. But the Haunted House has bricks that look, I don't know, bigger somehow. Like their size is somewhere between a normal brick and a cinderblock.

And is it just me, or is the grass at the Haunted House yellower than all the other houses? Sure looks that way. Like the grass is slowly dying, such as when you don't water it at all. But that could be just how it looks at night. Afterall, it is pretty dark out.

The roof looks slanted too. Not that it's caving in or anything, but like the walls of the house are different sizes. Reminds me of when I made gingerbread houses as a kid. I could never get the walls to be the exact size so the roof sat weird on top.