This came from an idea that Akilah suggested. And I love it when I take one of her ideas and run with it because after I finish my story I take my ancient MacBook out to her and read the story aloud and inevitably she says something like, “I like it… but that’s nothing like what I had in mind.” And that’s totally fair! We all have ideas and in our own mind’s eye that idea blossoms in a particular way, the story curving this way and that in a way our imagination sees fit. So, when you loose that idea, that kernel and someone else takes it… that’s part of the fun. (She did say she liked it, though!)

Everyone has always been afraid of the haunted house at the end of the street. We just never really knew why.

Let me back up and tell you about the neighborhood. It’s your typical cul-de-sac with cookie-cutter houses – mostly two story – sat on lots maybe a little too small for the houses, with little postage-stamp sized lawns in front. Two car garages stuffed with bicycles, kids’ toys, boxes, tools – never cars (except that one family that keeps their pristine Camry in the garage – we’re all wary of them…). Every Fourth of July there’s a block party. We all coordinate Christmas lights. It’s that kind of a place.

Well, almost. At the end of the cul-de-sac there’s a weed-choked dirt road that leads into brambles and down the hill. At the bottom is the most haunted house in the world. Okay, I mean, I heard some kids saying that, but it’s probably just the most haunted house in the state, right? County? City? It’s absolutely the most haunted place in our neighborhood. But that’s really all anyone knows about it.

Those same kids will dare each other to see how far down that dirt road they’ll go by themselves at night. And there are stories about witches driving kids off their property, or stories about murderous drifters who squat in the house. Supposedly an old man lived there with his dog that loved to attack kids balls – no, sorry, that’s the movie “Stand By Me.” But you see? There’re so many myths about this house and no one really knows what the story is.

Well, I’m about to find out.

Because I’m dead.

Did I bury the lede there? I probably did, yeah. Alright, well, it’s true. I am dead. I died a couple weeks back. It was out of the blue, really. I got the worst headache I’ve ever had – it made migraines look like annoyances. My wife made me lie down in a dark room – we were thinking super migraine – and I never woke up. I stuck around to hear doctors say things like “subarachnoid hemorrhage” and “ruptured intracranial aneurysm”. I knew enough of those words to know they’re terrible. And watching my family dealing with my sudden death… I wanted to stick around and comfort them, but… I’m a ghost. I wanted to be like Casper the Friendly Ghost, right? But they were… look, I’m going to move on, okay? I didn’t want to be there when I couldn’t do anything to assuage their grief, so… I thought about the haunted house at the end of the street.

I walked through the (closed) front door of my house at 622 Western Court, turned left and walked to the end of the street. When I reached the dirt road, I took one more look over my shoulder at my old house. The Taylors had just pulled up… looked like they were bringing Myra and the kids a casserole. They’ll love that… I turned and started down the dirt road.

When the house came into view the sun was setting and the place was dark. I don’t know what I expected – of course it was dark: it was an abandoned house! But I don’t know, I thought I’d have some sort of ghost sight – like cats have? Spectral night vision? Something to see my soon-to-be haunted house mates?

When I walked through the boarded up front door, though, I was greeted by… nothing. There was nothing and no one in there! I went through the whole house top to bottom. By top I literally mean all the way up to the roof. By bottom, I went down into the basement because I figured I shouldn’t be afraid of what’s lurking in the creepy basement because I was an actual ghost myself – I should be afraid of myself! But nothing.

The most haunted house in the world (or just the neighborhood) was ghostless. “Was” being the operative word, because it was my new home. It was dark and drafty, or I assumed it was owing to the broken windows and lack of lights, but it suited me just fine. There was even a rotting old bed in an upstairs bedroom that was comfy enough for me to rest my incorporeal body in when I got “tired” (I didn’t actually get tired, but old habits die hard (no pun intended) and sometimes it was fun to sleep for the sake of sleeping). It also had a great view of the reservoir further down the valley.

Maybe I was making too much noise or something, but I don’t think I was enjoying my new digs for a month before I came downstairs and ran into another ghost. “Dwayne? Dwayne Russell? What are you doing here? I thought you were dead?”

Dwayne looked at me incredulously. “Yeah, Bob, we’re both dead.”

“Oh yeah, I guess you’re right. But, I mean, didn’t you die a couple years ago?”

He let out an enormous sigh and said, “I did. I was trying to stick around by my family but…”

“Yeah, I get it,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “What brings you to this place?”

“You were making so much noise!”

Okay, that’s actually pretty funny from a ghost perspective because, no, I wasn’t making much actual noise that would resonate in the living world. But ghost noise – not unlike ghosts ourselves – is governed by some weird physics (or lack thereof). So, even me just being here made a certain kind of spectral racket that attracted Dwayne.

And it wasn’t long before Mrs. Andrews came by – she had died from Alzheimer’s a couple of years back. Honestly, I never knew her before the disease – she was a kick as her pre-Alz self in ghost form. Dead pets started coming around – Scooter, my daughter’s cat that got hit by a car, sleeps with me on my rotting bed every night. By the end of that month the house was teeming with ghosts from the neighborhood. We were our own ghost support group! The jury is still out on whether it’s now the most haunted house in the world, but I can say it’s the best haunted housing in the world.