Releasing A Soul

Fall+is+the+best+time+for+ghost+stories.+

Chris Velasquez'16

Fall is the best time for ghost stories.

William A. Ramirez '16 and RJ Garado '16

The 16th of February, 2011 was the day when my life had changed. I went camping with some friends, over near the Potomac, in one of the little camp grounds. The sun was setting on the horizon and I felt a little chill outside. It was about 7:00 pm, I wanted to walk alone to enjoy the calming scenery. The clouds were getting darker and the birds were nested up in the trees.

I came across an old house. The windows were boarded up and the front door was falling apart, the floor along with it. There was mold on the wooden parts of the house and a lot of the metal on the house was rusting and falling apart; every gust of wind shook what was left of the metal.

All of a sudden, from within the house, I heard a blood-curdling scream. I stood there like a stone wall. I blinked, then came back to reality. I wanted to go inside and see what had happened but I didn’t know what I would encounter in that  place. I went back to the campground;all my friends said I was as pale as snow. The only thing that came out my mouth was, “I’m going to bed.”

When I woke up, it was 6:48am. No one was up at that time, so I put on my clothes and crawled out my tent to greet the warm glowing sun and the chilling wind that can break a man’s will. The first thing that came to mind was to collect some firewood. I went to go chop down firewood. I had traveled a little out of my way picking up small twigs and other assortments of wood. I came across that dreadful house again, this time I felt a rush. I wanted to see what happened in there. I put down the pile of wood. I put one foot on the porch step and heard a very loud and disturbing creak. I moved up the stairs to the top of the porch. I started cautiously moving toward the door.
Then I took out the flashlight that I kept in my pocket; I turned it on and it flickered a little. I looked through one of the little worn holes in the door. I saw a hallway and a table which was falling apart from the large amount of decay eating it up. I opened the door and saw bits of the floor missing.

Suddenly, I inhaled something so foul it made me cringe. It smelt like a pile of rotting remains; I put my shirt over my face to block the horrific smell. I moved down the fetid hallway and looked into one of the rooms. There was an old couch. when I focused my flashlight on it, it only exaggerated the poor condition. I saw something moving within the couch; rats scurried out and away.

I kept walking.

I got to the kitchen, the counter was moldy, the refrigerator was rusty, and the table was missing a leg.  I got to the stairs that led to the basement. I got down them like they were a tight rope. Then, I saw a little girl. Her hair was matted and she was shaking. I told her to come with me so we could leave this horrid place. When we got to the front of the house, she turned back saying she had left something on the table. As she went back inside, I flashed my light into the hallway. She vanished into a pile of ash. Her last words were, “thank you” as the ash settled to the ground. They hung in my ears as I walked back to camp.

Everyone was beginning to wake up; they said, “where did you go?”

I replied, “a walk.”