The House at the End of Walnut Street
Campton was a small town, where everyone knew everyone. The kids played in the streets, which was OK. There were no cars anyway. The only time you saw a car in Campton is if someone came from out of town. They weren?t amish, they still had televisions and cell phones and all that good stuff. It all felt perfect to everyone. Of course, everything that?s perfect has a flaw. Near the edge of the neighborhood, there was Walnut Street. And, at the end of Walnut Street, there was a house. Old man Watson used to own it, but he disappeared a few years ago. This ?house? is now old and decrepit, and haunted, according to the kids. Every Halloween, one kid from school would go to the house for the whole night, but wouldn?t come back.They didn?t die, oh no, I mean they left different, as if they had seen something that no one should see.
If I recall correctly, the day was October 30th. All the kids in the school were out at recess, in the yard trading bubble gum cards and playing games. You could call the town old-fashioned. All the kids still played in the school yard, chewing gum and playing games such as capture the flag. Like I said, old-fashioned. Sitting on the table, arm-wrestling, was Big Jimmy. Big Jimmy was the toughest kid around. If you even THOUGHT about pulling something on Big Jimmy, you were a dead man. Big Jimmy was never friendly, and all the kids were trying to think of a way to teach him a lesson. So this one time I went up to Big Jimmy, and asked him a question that begins our story.
?Hey Jimmy!? I asked. My name doesn?t matter. I?m not that important to the story, ?you want a dare??
?Sure, kid. What?cha darin? me?? Jimmy asked. Big Jimmy could never turn down a dare. It was in his nature not to. I?m not entirely sure why.
?I dare you to spend the night in the house at the end of Walnut Street,? I said. I spoke with fake heroism in his voice, like I was trying to stand up to Big Jimmy. Of course, any attempt at that was futile, ?if you come out in one piece and still sane, it?ll get ya some Abe?s.? 20 dollars. How could Jimmy possibly resist?
?You?re on!? Jimmy said. He showed no sign of regret, which is something he would soon enough show plenty of.
The next night was Halloween. The night where kids would go around, asking for free candy from the neighbors. Not this Halloween. Not tonight. Tonight, all the boys and girls were gathered around the house at the end of Walnut Street, with Jimmy standing by the front door.
?And now, people of Campton! Watch as I walk into this house and stay the entire night, and come out alive and sane!? Jimmy roared. The crowd behind him cheered wildy as he walked into the house. The door closed behind him, and then the crowd heard nothing. Seconds like hours, minutes like days, time began to slow down. People were beginning to leave after the first hour. By the third hour, everyone had left, going home to sleep in their own beds, trying not to think about what could be in there that Big Jimmy had yet to uncover.
The next day, we all went to school, as normal. We all went to our lockers, as normal. I was walking through the hallway when Big Jimmy came around the corner. I crashed into him, and knocked my stuff out of my hands. Of course, I didn?t realize it was him,
?Hey, watch where you?re go--? I stopped when I looked into his face. His face was very pale. His hair, instead of a tangled mess, was clean and organized. He had worn dress clothes to school, something no one did. After getting a better look at his face, I realised it was powdered, which explained why it was pale. But, the one detail that scared me the most was his voice. So delicately and quietly he spoke,
?Sorry, I do apologize. I wasn?t looking where I was going. Do you want me to help you with your books??
After that day, no one has questioned the mystery that lies inside that house. Kids don?t play on or near Walnut street anymore. Anyone who lived on the street moved away. People would look back to this day and remember. They would remember the day Big Jimmy went mad.
The End
