It was a dark and stormy night.
No, it wasn’t.
It was dark, maybe a bit windy. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.
My cousin Paulette was spending a couple of days with us before school started. I was sixteen years old, so that means she was fifteen. It’s important to know that Paulette was afraid of her own shadow, but she liked to do scary things. I was always happy to oblige.
We grew up in the south where there’s no shortage of abandoned and supposedly haunted locations. One of the most popular local sites is near my parents’ house. It’s an old orphanage on a creepy backroad and looks disturbing even in daylight. In the dark it will make you come to Jesus.
As soon as Paulette asked me to take her to the “Haunted Orphanage”, a plan came to my mind. I told no one where we were going, or they wouldn’t have let us go. As we drove down the backroad I knew exactly where the house was, but I acted like we were lost. My cousin was already getting extremely nervous and wanting to turn back. I had driven past the orphanage twice already and she didn’t see it.
My plan was working perfectly.
As I approached the location the third time, I made my car die. I acted like it wouldn’t start. I popped the hood and was going to check things. Paulette had not noticed the car was “broke down” right in front of this giant, rickety old house.
As we were getting out of the car, I immediately ducked down so she couldn’t see me. She turned around to say something and saw the orphanage. At first, she couldn’t speak. Then she started stuttering my name. It did not take long for the stuttering to turn to screaming because she didn’t see me anywhere. During all this time I had managed to crawl around the car. Right as she started screaming, I grabbed her ankles.
That was over 30 years ago. She might still be running if I hadn’t forced her back in the car after I chased her down.