The Haunting on X Avenue

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THE RESCUE

I got back to my sister’s place, gung ho about smudging the house, when my sister informed me that she smudges it pretty regularly anyway. She thanked me for the extra sage stick, silly me. After dinner, my wife, sister and her husband left their kids at the house with our mom. While we went out to one of the local bars to talk about what was happening at the house on X Avenue. It took me a few hours to tell them everything in detail and answer questions, but after I had completed my report to them, they looked at me in shock.

My wife broke the silence. “Honey, I want to end this right now. I’m scared.”

I nodded in agreement. “That isn’t a problem, sweetie. Bob has turned this over to the medium, Alicia, and it is out of my hands. Pastor Randal has agreed to play wing-man for her tomorrow at noon. I am out of it.” She looked relieved.

We all spent the rest of the night laughing, reminiscing and trying to forget about the unpleasantness of the haunted house. A little after midnight, we drove back to my sister’s house for some sleep.
We noticed that there were no lights. No street lights, no house lights in the entire neighborhood and no light in the house. My mom and niece ran frantically out the front door when they saw our headlights.

“I can’t find Jeffery! I’ve looked all over the house. Under the beds, in the garage. He is not here!” my mom exclaimed.

“Why didn’t you call us?” my sister asked, distress evident in her face.

“All of the phones are out. I have no house line, cell phone or power. I couldn’t call!” my mom cried.

I spoke up. “Mom, you stay here at the house. Everyone else, split up and start checking the neighborhood.” Then we fanned out, calling for Jeffery. On a strange hunch, I checked my phone. Seeing that it was working, I called Alicia.

She picked up on the first ring. “You need to get to the house now. Your nephew is there! I’m on my way.”
My stomach rolled, and I had to force myself to focus so as not to throw up. I yelled to everyone, “Get to the car! He’s at the house!”

I heard someone ask, “At home?”

I started running to the car. “No! The house on X- run!” We jumped into Rick’s, my brother-in-law, jeep and peeled out for the house. It was only a five to ten minute drive, but we were going to make it in three minutes, and if it drew the police, the more the merrier. On the way, I called Bob, and my sister called Pastor Randal. Both stated that they were on their way.
As we pulled up to the house, Alicia’s car was already there, and she was pounding on the jammed front door with a smoking sage bundle in her clutched fist. We piled out of the jeep and called out for Jeffery as loud as we could. The residents in the neighborhood came out of their front doors to see what was happening. There were no lights on in the houses or the street lamps, and our cell phones immediately made a loud pop and powered out.

Alicia started. “It is killing all of the lights.”

Just then, Bob’s truck rolled up and I could see Randal’s Saturn coming down the road. The Saturn’s headlights blew out and its engine stalled and died. Randal got out and ran the rest of the way. Rick and I slammed our shoulders to the front door, trying to force it open while Randal and Bob ran to the back door. On the fifth slam, we bashed the door open and kicked it until it the bolts of the hinges were torn out of their frame. The door wasn’t getting slammed shut again! The woman entered, passing what remained of the door and ran from room to room downstairs calling for Jeffery. We heard the back door bash open. Randal and Bob stumbled into the kitchen.

Randal looked at my sister and said, “He’s not out back.”

Rick started running up the stairs, calling his son’s name. But an invisible force knocked him forward and started dragging him back down the stairs.

“You get him and I’ll go up! Maybe this thing can do only one thing at a time,” I said, jumping over Rick as I headed up the stairs as fast as I could run.

But Rick’s feet dropped and I felt cold ice wrap around my body, and my legs and arms were sapped of strength. I weakly continued to climb the stairs. Unseen hands grabbed my ankles, and I was dragged backwards. My head collided with each step. I was pretty dazed as I reached the floor below.
Then my sister screamed as various spiders began to skitter out of every little hiding hole in the house. They dropped from the ceiling, dangling from their webs. Randal and Bob ran up the stairs in quick single file. Bob got knocked backwards, but Randal caught him on the first try. The second hit knocked them both backward, and they tumbled over each other down the stairs.

A black widow landed on Randal as it repelled from the ceiling and bit his arm. He cried out in burning pain. I felt a searing pain on my back as I imagined that I just got bitten as well. Everyone started swatting at their clothes and screaming in terror and pain. The women ran out of the house screaming. While Rick and I dragged Randal and Bob out who were both knocked out from their tumble down the stairs. The neighbors ran up to the porch and started checking the two unconscious men for any injuries.
Bob stirred and asked in a weary voice, “What happened?”

“Bob, I’m going to do something drastic to get my nephew out of that house,” I confessed.

He nodded in agreement. “Good!”

My sister and her husband were staring at the house in fury. “My baby is in there!” she spat through clenched teeth.

I put my hand on her shoulder to offer comfort. “I have a plan.” I turned to Alicia. “Give me all of the sage bundles that you have.” I ran to the jeep and detached the one gallon gas can from the back and fished around for a book of matches in the glove box. Alicia was waiting for me at the rubble that was the front door. She had a paper grocery sack with eight sage bundles in it.
I looked at Rick. “You, be ready to run upstairs when I light this.” I took the cap off the can and I placed it in the paper bag with the sage. I ran to the back of the house where the cellar crawlspace was and poured some of the gasoline downhill to the opening of the cellar. Tossing the bag inside, I lit the book of matches and threw it on the gas trail. As it caught, I yelled, “Smudge this you evil piece of scum! Go Rick! Go!”
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