We lived in that house during 1968, and almost 40 years later I took my first trip back to where it all started. I decided I was going to go back and see that house once again. Confront my fears and try to put that house to rest in my own mind.
I had been haunted in every other house I had lived in over the years, but there was something about wanting to get that one house behind me. It was the one that bothered me the most. The most sinister. So I went back.
As I drove up and parked in front of the house, I decided pretty quickly that I would knock on the door and risk looking like a weirdo and ask whoever was living there if they had ever experienced anything strange.
When the current tenant opened the door, I tried to come across as being sheepish and even though it might sound silly, asked him if he had ever had anything strange happen since he had been living there.
I will never forget his response.
He looked me in the eye and said, “You bet I have.”
After a few minutes of his explaining to me the types of things he had experienced (and boy did they sound familiar), I finally thanked him and left.
When I got back into the city I now lived, across the mountains into Central Washington, one of the first places I went was to the auto parts store where my brother Tim was working as the general manager. I wanted to tell him what I had found out.
Soon it was apparrent that whatever had hounded us all those years ago followed me back, for not only did things begin to happen at the parts store, but in my own life they took a dramatic upswing.