Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-33001998-20170925032602

When I was a kid, the Masons moved into the house across the street, a dark-colored gothic-type building that was rumored to be haunted when I was in elementary school. The Masons were Wynonna and Judson and their parents. Wynonna was a dark-haired girl that I could never look directly in the eye long enough to discern their real color. I was in the sixth grade and Wynonna was in seventh. I met Wynonna for the first time because she was assigned to my seat on the bus. I remember hearing about a string of break-ins or something in the neighborhood happening during the nights around the time. I remember this because it was one of the first conversations I had with Wynonna. She told me she wasn’t afraid because her parents had bought her a pocket knife for her last birthday and it was pretty sharp. However, most of our conversations were either about her family, specifically her three-year-old brother, or what it was like in the house that had spooked five-year-olds for decades. She told me that the house always made strange noises at night, but she wasn’t afraid because she always locked her door at night. We only really talked on the bus, but I always enjoyed her company and even though I could tell she enjoyed our interactions as well, I almost never saw her smile. We rode the bus together for the next year. We became very close friends in that time so I asked if I could come over to her house to hang out sometime. She told me that her parents didn’t like having people in the house because it was always messy. I hadn’t expected that because their yard was always very neat, but I knew you couldn’t always judge a book by its cover. I suggested us going to my house instead and she said that she’d ask her parents when she got home. I gave her my home phone number because my parents didn’t let me have a cell phone until I was in high school. I sat patiently next to the phone for most of the night, but she never called. When she got on the bus the next morning, she was visibly upset, dropping herself onto the seat sighing. Her arms were crossed and she didn’t look at me. We sat in silence for the whole ride to school because I thought that she was mad at me. I spent the whole day at school wondering what might be wrong and when I finally saw her at the end of the day I immediately asked her. “My parents don’t want me going to your house and inconveniencing your parents,” she told me. I told her I could have my parents explain to her parents it wasn’t a problem, but she told me that her parents almost never change their minds about something. She also said she was grounded because she had her pocket knife in her hand at the time and threw it. She was still angry when she got off of the bus. The next morning she was much more cheerful, telling me that her parents left a note that said they were going to be gone that afternoon. She told me I could come over then. It was Friday and my parents didn’t care where I was on Fridays as long as I was back before it got dark. We lived in a small town and my parents preferred me being outside anyway. I told her that I would just go over to her house when school was over and I spent the next seven hours wishing for 2:20 to roll around and the bell to ring. The bus ride back home was filled with an ecstatic silence, possibly due to both of us saving everything we wanted to say for when we were alone. When I finally entered the house, I found that, while it was somewhat cluttered, it was very clean. She showed me around the house for about an hour, telling me about every room we walked past like how her little brother and parents shared a room, but her parents didn’t like her going in there. Before long, we wound up just watching TV in her room and talking about life. She told me that she had heard a weird noise outside her door the night before and thought she heard someone trying to open her door. I told her it was probably just the spooky house. I glanced out the window and noticed that the sun was already starting to go down. I mentioned this to her and the uncharacteristic smile that had been on her face since this morning faded away. “Are you sure you have to go?” she asked. I really didn’t want to go home yet, but I really didn’t think my parents would be okay with me staying the night at a girl’s house. She walked me to the door and just before I left, she kissed me and smiled again. I had the biggest smile on my face as I walked home. The next morning there were police cars outside of Wynonna’s house. Her parents and little brother were found dead in their bedroom along with a pocket knife that had blood and Wynonna’s prints on it. They arrested Wynonna and I never saw her again. 