Haunted House

I was raised in a haunted house.

(Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to believe),

Was it Ghosts or something else?

I don’t know, quite honestly.

But a lot of strange things happened,

Of which I can’t explain,

And some said they saw a ghostly figure,

Not once, but time and time again.

I never saw the apparition,

So I can’t swear that it exists,

But on my word, some things occurred,

That I, myself, witnessed.

Like the time a bayonet fitting light-bulb,

Unscrewed itself and fell,

Of course that cannot happen,

But it did, and other things as well.

There must be an explanation,

I’m just not smart enough to know it,

Like the dart that flew from off the stairs,

When there was no-one there to throw it.

It embedded in the door-frame,

Just above my mother’s head,

For weeks after I was terrified,

To go upstairs to bed.

Of course I was just a little boy,

Of ten years old, or less,

And these things would be indelibly,

Upon my mind impressed.

Another time, my brother Jim,

Was taking care me,

We spent the evening by ourselves,

Just watching the T.V.

When Jim heard the sound of bottles,

Clink against each other,

But he didn’t believe in ghosts or ghouls,

Not Jim, my elder brother.

So he put it down to the local kids,

Playing games outside,

And we both sat there ignoring it,

Though it continued quite a while.

Of course, in time a call of nature,

Could not easily be ignored,

And that’s when Jim found the bottles,

Lined up, inside the door.

The front door securely fastened,

With just Jim and I inside,

And those rows of empty bottles,

So carefully aligned.

Don’t ask me where they came from,

Because to this day I’ve no idea,

It’s just another strange phenomenon,

That happened through the years.

Like the dart from out of nowhere,

The bulb, smashed upon the floor,

I’ll stop now, but if you ask me,

I’ll be glad to tell you more.

By

S.E.Ralph