Writing Exercise #1 con't

The Haunted House

In the middle of the 400 block of Perry Street was a haunted house. Raymond and David and Patty and I knew it was haunted because when we walked past, it made all those little hairs on the backs of our necks stand up, even in the daylight. At one time it must have been grand and white, but most of the paint had peeled away over the years, making it hardly any color at all. The wood siding was loose in many places, especially on the second floor. And the backyard was a weedy jungle. Even the sidewalk in front seemed dangerous because between the walk and the street loomed the largest tree on the block which heaved up the concrete with its big knobby roots.

We used to dare each other to go up on the rotting square porch with its wobbly balastrads and look in the wavy windows. The lace curtains had rotted away so we could see that the inside was filled with old Victorian furniture still arranged the way it had been the last time anyone had lived in the house over ten years before. The owner died before any of us were born, and no one had ever come to change anything. The couches spilled their stuffing as mice and squirrels got in to make nests. Books still sat on the marble-topped tables, consumed by bugs rather than readers. And over everything was a grey pall of dust. At the very end of the shadowy parlor, we thought we could see the top of a bald head above one of the wing chairs, but we were never sure.

We used to dare each other to go into the house, but none of us ever had to because the windows were all intact and the doors were tightly locked, even the one in back. And since we were good kids, it never occurred to us to break in; besides, we were afraid. We'd rather wonder about the house, "Who had lived there?" "How did they die?" "Why was it left empty?" "Was that really a ghost or a body in the wing chair?" We discussed it on those twilight summer evenings when the lightning bugs were just coming out or in the fall when the cicadas buzzed in the trees. The haunted house was always there, waiting for us to solve the mystery.

But one spring day a truck pulled into the cinder drive next to the house, and men got out and went in. They started dragging the furniture into the side yard and setting up long tables on which they piled all of the motheaten, forgotten treasures from the closets and drawers and shelves of the house. Some men set up tents and a farm wagon, while others dragged the horsehair furniture from the parlor onto the porch where it sat with its stuffing exposed to the sunshine. Even the bald headed corpse was exposed as a bulbous vase that had sat on a round table behind the wing chair. A day later an auctioneer was calling for bids over a loudspeaker, and a small crowd of onlookers carried away the contents of the house.

Two weeks later a wrecking crew came, and in a few days the haunted house was gone. Even the huge old tree was cut into enormous logs and hauled away. The city crews repaired the sidewalk. Shortly after, the Baptist church erected a tiny, yellow, one story modular house on the lot and the minister and his family moved in.

That summer Patty and David started "going steady" and in the fall went off to junior high, leaving me behind. Raymond seemed too babyish to play with, still dragging his little trucks around with a string. And one by one, our elderly neighbors started to die, and new, younger families moved into their homes.

Writing Exercise #1

Mapping Your Neighborhood

Here's an exercise to get you started thinking about details. It will also help you transition from essay writing to short stories because it will help you learn how to use description. I am going to do the first few steps with you so you have an example.

1) Draw a map of the earliest neighborhood you can remember from your childhood, preferably from before you turned ten. If you lived in a city or town, you might want to confine your map to one block or one side of one block, which is what I am going to do. If you grew up in the country, you might want to focus on your road. Give all of the houses names.

I grew up in a small city of about 50,000. I lived in one of the oldest areas of the city from the time I was about two until I graduated from high school and left. I am going to write about the side of the city block where my house was located. Since I can't draw it here, I'm going to list the houses and give them names.

The first house on the corner was a two story grey brick mansion built in the early 1800's. Two elderly women lived there. I'll call it The Mansion.

The next house was a two story red brick house where my friend Raymond lived with his mother and father. I'll call it Raymond's House.

The third house was a one story red brick house which was painted white where I lived with my mother and father. Of course, I will call it My House.

The fourth house was a two story white frame house where an elderly couple named Harriet and L.J. Reinhiemer lived. I'll call it Mr. & Mrs. Reinhiemer's House to differentiate it from the next one on the block.

The fifth house was another two story white frame house where Miss Reinhiemer, L.J.'s spinster sister, lived: Miss Reinheimer's House.

The sixth house was a huge two story frame house which had been unoccupied for years, but it still contained all of the old Victorian furniture in it. I'll call it The Haunted House.

The seventh house was a newer, single story frame house built sideways on its lot where my friend David's grandmother, grandfather and aunt lived: David's House.

The eighth house was an older, poorly kept single story frame house that was occasionally rented, but usually empty. I'll call it The Empty House.

The ninth house was an older, unpainted two story frame house where one elderly, reclusive woman lived. I'll call it The Witch's House.

The last house on the corner was a single story yellow frame house divided into two apartments: The Apartment House.

2) Now that you've drawn your map, you need to write about your life in this neighborhood. You can write about one incident or event or one character that stands out from your childhood experience. I'm going to write about how The Haunted House was finally emptied and torn down. But you'll have to wait until my next blog for that story!