Several years ago,
I moved into a two story house in Dallas. I was in
an old part of town, near fashionable and trendy
Greenville avenue. The house sat on a corner close to the famous "M" streets. It was early summer and the trees were green and overprotective. I remember when I drove down the street. My husband and I had recently divorced. I was on my own for the first time and with some sense of adventure I began looking for a house to rent. I had taken an unexpected turn off Greenville and found myself lost. The houses were old and lovely. Then I recognized the area as one of the most coveted in Dallas.
As if on cue, a yellow brick house sitting on a corner called me. I got out of my car. Walking up the cracked sidewalk the branches hovering over the porch seemed to welcome me. To my surprise the front door was open. "Hello" I called as I invited myself in. Immediately I noticed the beautiful wooden floors. A Spanish arch separated the living room from the dining room. Suddenly a noise from one of the bedrooms got my attention. I realized I wasn't alone. "Hello?" I approached with trepidation. To my relief it was a man in work clothes painting the back bedroom. I apologized profusely. I told him I noticed a sign in the front yard and had let myself in. The painter laughed and said the owner was renting the house. He had just placed the sign outside that very same day. What luck!
In a short time, I moved to this beautiful old house, rearranged the furniture and my life. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share the house just yet. I needed to sort things out and I wasn't ready for a roommate. It was the first time I lived alone. I don't remember exactly when I noticed my home was ......
......a little strange. Maybe it was the trees outside that made menacing dancing shadows at night in my bedroom or perhaps it was the hallway. The walls were painted a strange dark blue almost black color. Every time I walked in the hallway toward one of the bedrooms the air seemed unusually heavy in this part of the house. When ever I felt that uneasy feeling, I chalked it up to not being use to my new surroundings.
On late afternoon, after reading a book, I decided to take a nap. As I walked through the hallway as I often did to go to my room, I felt a tug on the back of my shirt. I thought my shirt had gotten stuck on something and I turned around. There was nothing there. Feeling sleepy, I didn't think twice about it. In no time, I fell asleep. I think it was the music that first got my attention. It was a smooth jazzy instrumental piece. It sounded like something from the 60's. By now my bedroom was dark. It was early evening and all the lights were off. A little groggy, I lifted my head momentarily from the pillow. I realized the music seemed to be coming from inside the house.
"No"I told myself, "it must be someone outside with a radio." In a half wake state, I sat up. The music stopped. I decided to give in to slumber and my head hit the pillow. As soon as my head rested, the music started again.
I lifted my head and the music stopped. Then I could make out voices. It sounded like a roomful of guests, a party. Then I realized the voices were coming from the other side of the hallway from my living room. The party was in my house! I just sat there paralyzed not knowing what to do. I eventually mustered the courage to get up and investigate. As I approached the living room, the music and the voices faded mysteriously. There was no one there. Or was there? Several incidents occurred at that house off Greenville and gradually over the two years that I lived there, I would piece the beginning of this ghost story.
Now go and write some amazing Short Scary Stories
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