The Dead House

This story took place near Parkersburg WV, years ago when my dad was a young teenager. He is now 54.

My dad, one of his cousins, and a few friends often went camping in the woods located behind a house my dad grew up in. My dad knew these woods like the back of his hand. They wanted to go a little farther this time and check out what lay beyond what he was already familiar with. While deep in the woods, it started raining very hard, and they ended up getting lost. They came upon an old abandoned house sitting in the middle of the woods, so they decided to go in and take shelter from the rain. By this time, it was dark, so the only light they had were flashlights. My dad told me he hesitated on going in, because it looked like there were bullet holes in the door, but they ended up going in anyway. They explored the house, as boys do. It had an upstairs with a very narrow hallway, 3 small rooms upstairs, a living room down stairs, and a small kitchen. He said there was what appeared to be a dirt cellar, and the entrance was through the kitchen. They were not brave enough to go down there.

When the boys took their camping gear off and went upstairs to explore, they heard what sounded like heavy footsteps and the front door slam downstairs. They ran down the steps, only to find that all of their gear had been pushed into a pile in the middle of the living room floor. They were terrified, but by this time it was storming so hard that they could not possible trudge through the woods, so they decided against their better judgement to stay. They positioned themselves in a circle, feet on the middle, so they could see around them. When they were all settled, they heard footsteps upstairs, the same heavy footsteps, so they grabbed their flashlights and headed up the steps. Halfway up, they heard a door up there slam, yet they continued up, forgetting that none of the rooms had any doors. Once upstairs, they heard he door downstairs slam, so again they ran down, only to find their things piled high and shoved against the front door. This was enough to make the boys run out the door leaving everything behind. Dad told me they had blindly stumbled upon a small rock shelter, that allowed them shelter from the rain. The next morning they went back to get their belongings, and he holes in the door were gone, their things were gone, the entrance to the cellar was gone, and there were doors on the rooms upstairs. They tried to find that place, several years later, and could not find the house. My dad still gets goose bumps, and his hair still stands on end when he talks about it.