I’m gonna tell you a true story. It’s not very well written, but who cares? It’s true. I, D.H. Scott, swear it is.

 

Today I had a ‘playdate’ (as all homeschooling moms call it) at my house with SJ and Micah. We were playing a game of salamander (it’s like reverse hide-and-go-seek, expect when one finds the hider they have to hide with him/her). Sarah was the hider. So I, Rachel, SJ, and Micah were in my room, goofing around and counting half-heartedly. Then, SJ neared the window.

“Hey!” he said. “I think I see something!”

We crammed ourselves at the window, our little noses smearing the plastic. I turned the light out to see better.

“Hey, there is something.”

I snatched a flashlight from Micah’s hands; sure enough, there was a short, faded shadow outside.

Then, some idiot turned the light on again. I turned it back off.

It was gone.

“I think it was nothing,” I said. “It’s dark outside, it’s hard to see.”

“Yeah,” said Micah. “You’re probably right.”

We went out of my room, searching for Sarah. We convinced ourselves it was nothing.

Later, Rachel disappeared.

“Hey,” I said. “Where’s Rachel?”

“I don’t know?!” said SJ. “Where she go?”

It was a little creepy. Mom said no one went downstairs, but we checked every room upstairs…

…except the attic.

“The attic?” SJ squeaked. “I am not going in the attic.”

“Oh come on,” said Micah. “Don’t be such a baby.”

About roughly thirty seconds later, he was following me and Micah up the attic stairs.

“Guys, this is really creepy.” He shivered.

“I kinda agree.” I said.

“Oh come on! All you guys are bunch of sissies!”

“Are not!”

The three of slowly walked into the unlit darkness of the attic. Sometimes I wish we had more light bulbs for the empty sockets.

The air got colder as we plunged deeper (which was roughly about two feet). Boxes were scattered everywhere, along with some old, abandoned, toys. Lucky for us, Micah had a flashlight in hand.

“Okay,” said Micah, who was playing leader.  He shone his flashlight on a table we made a long time ago with and old blanket for a tablecloth. “They might be hiding under there. One of us should go check.”

“No, I have a better idea.” I said. I grabbed an old, heavy, bin, then shoved it. It slid across the floor and bumped the table, nudging it to move a few inches.

SJ jumped.

“Let’s get out of here.” he said, and ran.

Me and Micah followed him downstairs.

“Come on, let’s go back up.” Micah encouraged.

“No way!” SJ said. “I am not going back up there.”

“Oh come on!”

We went back up, only for me and SJ to freak out and run back down again, then for Micah to lead us back up.

We did this about five times.

“Seriously guys,” said Micah. “I’ve played jokes like this a million times! I don’t get why you guys are so scared. Come on!”

I have to admit, Micah had a point; I’ve play games like this a millions of times, too, it’s the classic trick: hide in the scariest place, and it will take forever for someone to find you because they’ll chicken out.

Then again, SJ had a point, too. There was a supernatural. Both he and his Mom believe they saw ghosts a few times; one of them was at a funeral. His mom says it’s an angel protecting them, but I’m not so sure….

I was still scared. I was afraid my sisters were going to pop out of nowhere and I scream and wet my pants.

We went back up.

“Hey,” I said. “What happens if they’re in the dark room of the attic?”

“Right,” said Micah. “I’ll go in there and-“

“No,” I interrupted. “Let’s get some heavy objects and throw them to either hurt them or scare them off.”

“Come on guys, I can-“

It was too late. I and SJ were throwing all sorts of things in there, and no matter how much Micah protested, I just kept throwing. I threw some pretty valuable stuff, such as my prized Nerf gun. I didn’t care, even if it would never return.

I threw in a tin can, then, a moment later, it came right back up. The three of us backed up and scrunched into balls.

“Oh my gosh!” SJ gasped. “It came back! It’s a ghost!”

“Relax,” Micah reassured. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Yes there are!”

“No, there isn’t.”

“I know guys,” I said, standing up. “How about we turn off the lights, lock the door, and wait to the girls beg mercy to come out?”

“But what happens if it’s a ghost?” asked SJ.

“It’s not, it’s the girls.”

We ran downstairs, turned out the light, and locked the door.

“Ha!” I shouted before I shut the door. “Hope you have fun now girls!”

I slammed the door.

“Hey!” Mom shouted from downstairs. “It’s almost time to go.”

“We know!” Micah shouted back. “But we can’t find the girls!”

Well, after a lot of shouting, we began to take this seriously. We shouted louder and louder, and when Mom called out, she threatened to take away privileges.

Then, when I was alone, upstairs, calling for them, and listening closely to some thumping in the attic, I heard their voices downstairs. I ran down, and there, Micah, SJ, Mom, and my sisters were laughing and talking.

“What happened?” I asked.

“We hid under the stairs!” said Sarah. “It was kinda crammed, but-“

Her voice was drowned by more talking. I was thinking. How the tin can came back? I thought. It probably hit some object.

What about the shadow outside?

Maybe it was animal.

What about the thumping in the attic?

Maybe it was our cats.

I wasn’t sure if I believed what I was telling myself. Rachel told me it might have been my cat, Cumin. I wasn’t sure.

Looking back, I think enjoy that experience. I was frightened, sure. But I was with people I knew. My friends. I did learn, after that, Rachel had to clean the attic for her chores, and she wasn’t happy with us.

I believe real life adventures, with plots and characters and everything, exist. That story happened. It was funny, scary, and awesome all at the same time.

Fiction is telling a truth with a lie. And the stories that tell the truth, last more in our world, even if they tell a lie.

–D.H. Scott, June 17, 2012