I've always been a packrat and once, in my youth carried and rolled a partly filled fifty five gallon drum for three miles on a hot day....because there was "something" in it. Alas my dreams of money and jewels stashed, turned into crude oil and sediment, but we used it as a burn barrel, so my efforts were not a total waste.
Back in those days there were still plenty of old abandoned houses from the Great Depression. Each one inspired dreams of hidden treasure in the mind of a young boy.
It was in my eighth summer that I chanced upon the old house, while hunting. The first foor was built of natural fieldstone, but the second floor was wood. Steppng inside, I got one of "those feelings". You know the one, where you feel that something is "wrong."
Berating myself for being a scaredy-cat, I lookede at the stairs that went from that level, up and around the back of the old fireplace to the second floor. It sent a chill up my spine. I searched the lower level and other than finding some old unidentifiable jars of canned goods, there was nothing of interest.
I mustered my courage and checked the load in my rifle, then went upstairs. The four bedrooms were bare except for dust and critter droppings, but at the end of the hall was a step up and a closed door.
I knew that behind that door lay all of the vast treasures of the world, but when I stood on the step, my sense of forboding was so great I just couldn't bring myself to touch that door knob.
Hurrying back downstairs and outside, I pondered the problem. I wanted whatever was behind that door, but was not too enthused about seeing the booger that waited to grab me. Suddenly an idea came to me...Raymond! I'd get Raymond to open the door, the booger would grab him and I'd carry off any treasure, while they were wrastlin around!
Good Plan!
It took some convincing to get Raymond involved. Though I didn't mention it, as it turned out, he didn't much like boogers either.
But I told him that I found this old house and had not even gone in, as I was "savin it" for him and me to plunder together. Told him it was a two story and I'd take the lower level, while he searched the top. And though I'd never been in it, should he see a step up and a closed door, be sure and go in there, because there'd be treasure a bunch. ( Raymond wasn't too smart in those days) I also told him to be sure and bring his rifle.
We get there and Raymond disappears ff upstairs. I can hear him walking around, so as I'd already searched the lower level, I went outside and sat on a stump, waiting for him to call.
Silence. It had been awhile since I'd heard Raymond moving around. Getting worried, I called to him.....Nuthin. Now I'm scared. What if something rerally had grabbed him?
"Raymond!" I yelled. "I'm coming up there and if you jump out and scare me, you might get shot!"..... Still nuthin.
I hit those stairs at a hard gallop and once on the second floor, saw Raymond standing on the step, with his hand on the doorknob.
I started to speak to him, then noticed his eyes wide open in fright.
Moving only his eyes, he'd look at me, then look at his hand. It took a minute for me to understand what he wanted and then I kicked his hand off the knob. As soon as he was free, he whispered "Let's go!" and we raced out of the house, never to re-enter it.
A year or so later, a tornado took the second flor off. Scattered in the meadow was broken trunks of old clothes, pieces of old furniture and wet photographs. All the things that a packrat could want. But yuh know...to this day I still believe there was something in that attic, that didn't want two little boys snoopin around.
Jess
Back in those days there were still plenty of old abandoned houses from the Great Depression. Each one inspired dreams of hidden treasure in the mind of a young boy.
It was in my eighth summer that I chanced upon the old house, while hunting. The first foor was built of natural fieldstone, but the second floor was wood. Steppng inside, I got one of "those feelings". You know the one, where you feel that something is "wrong."
Berating myself for being a scaredy-cat, I lookede at the stairs that went from that level, up and around the back of the old fireplace to the second floor. It sent a chill up my spine. I searched the lower level and other than finding some old unidentifiable jars of canned goods, there was nothing of interest.
I mustered my courage and checked the load in my rifle, then went upstairs. The four bedrooms were bare except for dust and critter droppings, but at the end of the hall was a step up and a closed door.
I knew that behind that door lay all of the vast treasures of the world, but when I stood on the step, my sense of forboding was so great I just couldn't bring myself to touch that door knob.
Hurrying back downstairs and outside, I pondered the problem. I wanted whatever was behind that door, but was not too enthused about seeing the booger that waited to grab me. Suddenly an idea came to me...Raymond! I'd get Raymond to open the door, the booger would grab him and I'd carry off any treasure, while they were wrastlin around!
Good Plan!
It took some convincing to get Raymond involved. Though I didn't mention it, as it turned out, he didn't much like boogers either.
But I told him that I found this old house and had not even gone in, as I was "savin it" for him and me to plunder together. Told him it was a two story and I'd take the lower level, while he searched the top. And though I'd never been in it, should he see a step up and a closed door, be sure and go in there, because there'd be treasure a bunch. ( Raymond wasn't too smart in those days) I also told him to be sure and bring his rifle.
We get there and Raymond disappears ff upstairs. I can hear him walking around, so as I'd already searched the lower level, I went outside and sat on a stump, waiting for him to call.
Silence. It had been awhile since I'd heard Raymond moving around. Getting worried, I called to him.....Nuthin. Now I'm scared. What if something rerally had grabbed him?
"Raymond!" I yelled. "I'm coming up there and if you jump out and scare me, you might get shot!"..... Still nuthin.
I hit those stairs at a hard gallop and once on the second floor, saw Raymond standing on the step, with his hand on the doorknob.
I started to speak to him, then noticed his eyes wide open in fright.
Moving only his eyes, he'd look at me, then look at his hand. It took a minute for me to understand what he wanted and then I kicked his hand off the knob. As soon as he was free, he whispered "Let's go!" and we raced out of the house, never to re-enter it.
A year or so later, a tornado took the second flor off. Scattered in the meadow was broken trunks of old clothes, pieces of old furniture and wet photographs. All the things that a packrat could want. But yuh know...to this day I still believe there was something in that attic, that didn't want two little boys snoopin around.
Jess
