My two bffs went up to Bethel Maine every summer. Their parents would camp and they would stay with friends. One summer I was invited along.
Bethel is in the middle of the woods. During the winter, Shawnee Peak is open so there is a lot of skiing to do. Not so much in the summer. Drinking, hanging at the general store, catching a shitty movies in the shitty theater, smoking butts and js, and driving around looking for trouble. We stuck, mostly with the latter two.
One day we were doing what all the townies were doing, which is to say nothing. Driving, smoking, maybe a swig or two. The friends took us down a long lonesome road. They began to tell us of a haunted house. A house abandoned, forgotten and probably a hotel to those visiting from beyond. We didn't believe it. Much.
Finally we entered a clearing and there was this tall old Colonial style house in the middle of the woods. "How can some one abandon such a gorgeous house?" someone asked.
Someone, of course, suggested that the old woman who was living there had died and her family did not want it. "Shit! We'll take it!"
It could have been the ghost story, or the drugs, or perhaps all of the NO Trespassing signs we blatantly ignored, but the house scared us. What was a group of 16 year old girls supposed to do? Beth and I volunteered to go in, under the condition that they honk the horn like mad if a car (or ghost) comes. Everyone agreed.
After a little B & E we were in the house. It looked like the last person that was there was in the middle of eating because there were dirty dishes around. No one lived there, because there were drapes on the furniture. "What should we take?" I asked my partner in crime. She didn't know. She found a game of jacks that she pocketed. While I searched for something more my style.
I picked up an old wine bottle that had wax dripped down the side. At the same moment that I was admiring the glassware mad honking came from outside. We both ran out the way we came in. I still carrying my wine bottle. We jumped into the car and the three girls that had stayed behind were freaking the fuck out. There was no car. There was no ghost. There was nothing but a couple of scared girls. They said we'd been in there too long. They just wanted to leave. I just wanted to go back in. At least I hung onto that bottle. I still have it and I love it."
Bethel is in the middle of the woods. During the winter, Shawnee Peak is open so there is a lot of skiing to do. Not so much in the summer. Drinking, hanging at the general store, catching a shitty movies in the shitty theater, smoking butts and js, and driving around looking for trouble. We stuck, mostly with the latter two.
One day we were doing what all the townies were doing, which is to say nothing. Driving, smoking, maybe a swig or two. The friends took us down a long lonesome road. They began to tell us of a haunted house. A house abandoned, forgotten and probably a hotel to those visiting from beyond. We didn't believe it. Much.
Finally we entered a clearing and there was this tall old Colonial style house in the middle of the woods. "How can some one abandon such a gorgeous house?" someone asked.
Someone, of course, suggested that the old woman who was living there had died and her family did not want it. "Shit! We'll take it!"
It could have been the ghost story, or the drugs, or perhaps all of the NO Trespassing signs we blatantly ignored, but the house scared us. What was a group of 16 year old girls supposed to do? Beth and I volunteered to go in, under the condition that they honk the horn like mad if a car (or ghost) comes. Everyone agreed.
After a little B & E we were in the house. It looked like the last person that was there was in the middle of eating because there were dirty dishes around. No one lived there, because there were drapes on the furniture. "What should we take?" I asked my partner in crime. She didn't know. She found a game of jacks that she pocketed. While I searched for something more my style.
I picked up an old wine bottle that had wax dripped down the side. At the same moment that I was admiring the glassware mad honking came from outside. We both ran out the way we came in. I still carrying my wine bottle. We jumped into the car and the three girls that had stayed behind were freaking the fuck out. There was no car. There was no ghost. There was nothing but a couple of scared girls. They said we'd been in there too long. They just wanted to leave. I just wanted to go back in. At least I hung onto that bottle. I still have it and I love it."
