"1113 Sycamore" a monologue by Charles Anthony Hood

 

     When I was growing up, 1113 Sycamore was a haunted house on my street. The light gray paint on the outside of the house was peeling, revealing the wood underneath. Weeds and tall grass surrounded the property. The fence was missing pieces and some sections of it had fallen.

 

     I was 10, and my friend, David, was 11. Although David was older than me, I was taller than him by an inch. We grew up together in the neighborhood. Kindergarten—the first day of our lives—was just a little easier with my pal, David, by my side.

 

     One Saturday, David came to my house wearing his backpack. “It’s Saturday! What’s with the backpack?” I said. He told me he was going to “1113” to do a paranormal investigation. Before he even asked me, I said, “I want to come.”

 

     I had once seen a movie in which someone was running, but the more they ran, the further away they became. I wondered if I might have such an experience myself at 1113. The thought excited me! I’m not sure why I wasn’t afraid.

 

     We stood on the front porch looking at the door for a moment before David opened it. “What do you know?” I said. “It was unlocked.” David said the house was inviting us in.

 

     The inside of the house was frozen in time. Furniture, Knick-knacks, and pictures were sitting just as they had been left. A thick layer of dust rested on the surface of everything. Dust danced in the beams of sunlight pouring in through the cracks of broken wood covering the windows.

 

     David pulled out a “Walkie-Talkie” and turned it on. “What’s that for?” I said. “Sometimes ghosts can send messages through electronics.” He replied. As we walked through the house, we listened for a message to come through the walkie.

 

     I started feeling as if I just wanted to go home, because our paranormal investigation, it seemed, was a bust. I was about to say, “There’s no ghosts,” but then a voice came over the walkie, deep and gravelly. It spoke a single word, “Blood.” David screamed, “Holy shit!” We ran out the front door and kept running down the street, putting as much distance between us and the house as possible.

 

     I learned some years later that David had told his dad of his plan to conduct a paranormal investigation. He explained to his dad how he would use the walkie to hear the ghosts. David’s dad snuck over to the rear of 1113 and used another walkie to prank us. He got his laugh.

 

     Sometimes, our perceptions deceive us. The most logical point of view is scientific skepticism because science has a proven method to investigate the truth of any claim. The truth may be hard to find in our reality, but it is not impossible to know. Just don’t be so sure that you know anything!