I like scary movies, but none of them seem as scary as they use to be. It may be because I have gotten older or because I watch the news, movies and television and they show so many unusual and horrible things. I remember when I was young, I would come home from school every day and have a snack and watch television before starting on my homework. One afternoon and I was watching “The Big Show”, and that day the show was “The Attack of the Giant Woman”. I don’t remember all the details of the movie, but I can remember that the woman’s husband was cheating on her, and then she had some sort of encounter with aliens. I am not sure what the aliens did to her, but the next thing I knew she started growing taller and taller. She grew so much that she was soon taller than the skyscrapers. I don’t know what scared me about that movie, but I was scared. After the woman became a giant, she went searching for her husband and the women he was seeing. I can’t remember too much about the movie because I had my eyes closed most of the time, and before it was over, I had hidden behind the couch. The last thing I saw was the giant woman finding her husband and his girlfriend parking in a secluded place in his car. Then just as soon as she picked up the car and started slinging it around, I closed my eyes and covered my ears. After about a minute, I uncovered my ears and I could hear that a commercial was on, so I crawled out from behind the couch and ran and turned the T.V. off. I never want to see that movie again!
I suppose I outgrew being so scared watching these types of movies because now it takes a lot to scare me. Every now and then, I will watch a “Ghosts Hunters” or “Haunted Houses” show and I find them kind of fascinating. When I was young, my dad told me stories about his great-aunt. He said she had some sort of power that enabled her to move things just by thinking about moving them. He said that he remembered his great-aunt razing a kitchen table off the floor without touching it. At first, those stories gave me the creeps, but the more I thought about it, the more I was interested. I thought, “Gees, if I could do that I could scare the crap out of people.” So for days and days I would sit and stare at our kitchen table and try to lift it off the floor. I never could do it, so I thought that maybe I should try to move something a bit lighter like a vase or something. I placed a glass on the table and concentrated on moving it and I tried and tried and tried, but it didn’t work. I soon gave up on moving objects with my mind, but I never outgrew my curiosity of my great-great aunt’s special talent.
I do believe in ghosts and I do believe there are spirits among us. But I also believe that it takes a special type of person to “feel the presences” of a ghost or spirit. I truly don’t want that special talent because I do not want to have any contact with anyone or anything I can’t see. I feel the less I know about ghosts and spirits, the better off I am. However, we all grow up with stories of places where ghosts are supposed to be, and for some odd reason, we all want to investigate these places; even me. There’s this haunted house a few miles from where I live and the place is called “The Octagon House”, and there have been many claims of the sightings of ghosts and apparitions. Some of my friends and I were talking about this place one day, and we all were interested in going to this place. And the more we talked about it, the more we wanted to go.
It was around Halloween, and we all wanted to do something together, and someone heard that The Octagon House was conducting tours for Halloween. About a dozen of my friends decided we would go to the house and we would go on Halloween night. A few days leading up to the excursion, we all read stories about the place and we researched the history of the house. We shared our findings with each other and every time we talked about the house, I got more nervous about going. I remember, one of my friends, Beth, saying, “When we leave, we have to tell the spirits that they cannot go with us. That is very important, so everybody needs to remember to do that.” By the time the big night approached, I had almost talked myself out of going, but it was mostly my idea, so I couldn’t back out. We took three separate vehicles and we all met at The Octagon House about seven o’clock. There were so many people there and we knew it would be a long wait, but we were determined to wait as long as necessary to tour the haunted house. We had to take a number and wait until our group’s number was called before we could go in. I can’t remember who got our number, but when they brought the ticket back to our little group, I asked, “What number are we?” And they said, “666.” We all looked at each other and said, “Oh! 666. That’s not good.”
It had been raining all day and the wind had picked up and it was freezing that night. As we waited for our “666” number to be called, we huddled up together and we started telling ghost stories about the house and other places. Some of the stories were pretty spooky and the more we talked the more sacred and nervous I became, but I was determined to go into that house with my friends. My friends told story after story and every time the guides called a number, I would look at my friend, Lynn, and ask, “What number are we?” Each time, everyone would look at me and say,”666!…..Ohoooo!” And each time, they would all laugh. After we had been there waiting for an hour, we started taking about some of the weird stuff that had happened to us that day at work. Lynn said she had a truck deliver some raw materials and she said, “Guess what the lot number was on the material? LPJ666!” Then when I thought back on my day, I said, “Ah oh. Our deposit today was six hundred sixty six thousand something. Then Beth said she had taken a message from a customer, and after the area code, their number began with 666. Another friend was running a test on a product and the result was 6.66. Then another friend said, “Oh! This is weird. My total tips for the day was sixty-six dollars.” It seemed like everyone had 666 occurrences in their day, and we all thought it was very strange.
We had waited so long, we were all getting cold, so we decided to take turns going to our vehicles so we could warm up. Lynn and I joined her sister and her brother-in-law and got in their car. The heater was on full blast and we finally started to get warm. We sat there for about fifteen minutes and I looked over at Lynn and said, “You think we should get back up there?” Lynn said, “No. Beth said she would come and get us if they called our number.” Now, after we had talked about “our number” for over an hour, you would think I wouldn’t have to ask, but I did. I looked at Lynn and asked, “What number are we anyway?” Lynn looked at me like I was dumber than a rock and she said, “666 dumb ass! What do you think we’ve been talking about for the past hour?” Without thinking about what I was doing, I slapped Lynn as hard as I could on her arm and said, “I can’t believe you called me a dumb ass! No one’s ever called me that before.” Lynn said, “Well, if the shoe fits, wear it.” Everybody, including me had a good laugh over this and honestly, that was a stupid question.
They finally called our number, 666, and we all got to go inside the house and tour it. We didn’t see a ghost that night, but that was okay because if I had seen one, I would have probably taken off running. I do admit, it was kind of spooky being in that house; especially when a closet door in one of the bedrooms opened by itself. We heard some strange noises and when we walked the grounds, it felt like you were being followed and watched. The tour itself lasted about forty minutes and we all had a really good time and I would recommend others to go visit the house. We talked about our trip to The Octagon House for several weeks later, and each and every time, someone would look at me and say, “What number are we CJ?” And I would look back at them and say, “666 dumb ass!” Then we would all just die laughing. 😛