What I Saw on Halloween Night

It was as if the night picked that moment to go cold for Halloween. I never was one to embrace the holiday I preferred sitting inside, watching horror movies for hours on end rather than traversing the streets filled with chills and ghouls. Yet, through this year I felt it different, a hand tugging me out there,externallyISING or inside?

It was coming up to Halloween and my friends had organized a little get together at an old house in the middle of nowhere, the place had some rumours about being haunted. I could feel a strange sort of static in the air when I first arrived. It was late at night, the moon high and full--and oddly bright during January in this forsaken part of West Texas, throwing up enigmatic shadows that wove and slipped among the dead trees around the house.

Within were my friends, laughing and scantily dressed in costume; And, unimaginably to me after only half an hour earlier thinking we were doomed, I started to feel good for the first time even though my nerves at being away for so long refused to settle down. Throughout the night, we took turns telling tales of hauntings and scary urban legends that set our imaginations ablaze. I couldnt stop smiling, but somehow felt we were not alone.logging off.padre troll

"Let’s go to the attic!" She gets to the ground and I pull out of her grinning, Jenna as a witch, she says her eyes alight with mischief. The others cheered, and hesitantly shaking my head in disbelief I came after, the thirst of learning overpowering the sense of danger (as is often the case with eager young people). We clambered up the creaking staircase, the wood moaning beneath us as we found our way to the attic door.

All the air inside was dead and coated in dust, cobwebs. Dawn peered through a dirty glass window; light filtering very dimly, casting across the set remains of dead life, old furniture, broken mirrors and outdated curtains whose slow movements made airwaves plausible. It felt like the air was thick and suffocating.

Beneath a stack of decaying boxes, Jenna unearthed an ancient Ouija board. “Let’s summon some spirits!” That sounds good! She was too excited and it affected to me although I was skeptical. For a moment, I paused; you hear far too many stories of persons who tried fooling around with the like, but my new found comrades were as sharp as ever. We sat down in a circle, everyone placing their fingers on the planchette feeling its cold wood against my skin.

“Is anyone here?” Jenna questioned in a half joking, half nervous tone.

At first, nothing happened. The sound of our laughter echoed off the attic walls and we quickly regained our senses. Suddenly the planchette began to glide, just slightly. My friends and I exchanged nervous glances as a chill ran up my spine.

“Who are you?” "Are we too late to help her?" one of them queried, breaths ragged and hearts pounding fast.

Sometimes the planchette would move to write a name: Maggie.

“Who is Maggie?” I mouthed, so softly it was almost nothing. A sadness I cannot even describe to you, sad like a million tonnes on top of your chest.

Jenna turned to him with a serious look. “Maybe she lived here.”

“Or perhaps she is but a product of our own minds…” I posited, attempting to make sense of it all. Internally something in the air had changed, but I snuck back inside. We felt all maternal instincts disappear, among the gusting froth of timeless murk…

“Let's check if she is happy?” another interfered trying to lighten the sad-news.

The planchette started moving again as we asked the question. This time, it read: NO.

My heart raced. “What does that mean?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Or maybe she is stuck here,” Jenna mumbled, concern knitting her brow together.

The feeling of ill content continued to swell inside of me, as I pulled away and said with a slightly raised voice “Guys, lets just stop. Others pressed her on, their curiosity overshadowing my fright.

“Why are you sad, Maggie?” Oh, please tell me they arent dead too, Jenna asked with a gentle voice

The planchette stalled before sliding to the next: ALONE.

Panic surged through me. We should go, I announced flatly in my head, something about the place was just wrong. But as I did so, the attic door swung and slammed closed with a deafening bang that reverberated through both our chests like thunder.

Each of us jumped, terror streaking through our little band. Jenna went as pale as a ghost, and the rest of them were starting to grasp it. “Open the door!” My friend yelled one over, but it was immovable.

“Let me try!” I bolted to the door and my fingers growing cold trembled around the doorknob. I gave the door my all, but it was as if some force was keeping it shut. Our visible breaths, panic as the temperature plummeted and something wet or solid appeared to be blowing on our faces.

“Stop!” Jenna yelled amidst the mounting lunacy. “We need to apologize! “Sorry, we did not mean to bother you!”

The silence of the room filled with what felt like an echo as she spoke. The air seemed thick with it, I could feel a presence all around us, in the shadows.

A soft voice spoke in the still void, low but each syllable chillingly concise. “Help me…”

My heart dropped. The plea reverberated in the depths of my soul; it was a cry of desolation. I saw my other side, wide eyed and scared as hell, and I wished to know more.

“Who is the monster that heaped you up in that cage, Maggie?” I screamed for some clues.

The planchette creeping along, the air getting heavier when it spelled B E T R A Y A L.

At that moment, the air changed and a breeze pushed through our attic, blowing out the last burning flames of our candles. We were just two hearts, rattling around, gripping each body been consumed by something strong in the night.

Out of that darkness, the voice returned again, this time more frantic. “Find me.”

A chill raced down my spine. “What does she mean?” I gasped, clutching Jenna's hand in mine.

I have no idea, but we need to leave! Jenna cried out and I could feel her determination increase.

We got our second wind and together we pushed even harder against the door with all of that adrenaline. The door creaked and cracked as a final push broke through, swinging into the dim hallway. We flew out of there with our hearts racing just above a gallop.

We did not cease to speed our way down what must have been an unbearable journey through the house until we emerged together into the cool night air of moonlight, catching our own absent breath. The outside air was refreshing compared to the clammy attic, but that voice continued to echo in my head.

Over the next few days, I could feel Maggie hanging around still, her story not done being sang. I started looking into the house, researching it and the records of a family who had once resided there. Betrayed by loved ones. A child in search for peace wandering the halls: Maggie was dead at least.

The next Halloween, I went back to that house alone. I re-entered the attic again by taking only a little lantern in my hand. The air was calm but we felt her there, a whisper in the hush.

“I’m here,” I said softly. “I’m here to help you.”

The shadows started to move, the lantern flickered. I exhaled and grabbed the Ouija Board in search of another connection.

The planchette started to move with every question, in-order to reveal the answer to my deceit. The sorrowful weight of her fell heavily upon the quiet space between us, and even so, I meant to let her speak.

Into the night I listened to her tale, a secret in an old family that kept her locked within those walls, a sorrow in deceit that had stolen her laughter. By the time it was over, she looked lighter in spirit and we definitely had a more hopeful energy in our home.

I awoke with the break of dawn and love washed over me. All I felt was Maggie was free. What had once been a sad place in the attic seemed now to be somewhat tranquil. I realized that this memory would be etched into my mind forever, a testament to the power of stories and storytelling, of listening and truly bearing witness, and essence in sharing our collective history.