Thoughts While Creating
Broken down, ready to collapse, the house was at the end of West Side Avenue.
We would all approach it in trepidation hoping not to disturb whoever lived there. Some said it was a witch, others a monster and persistent whispers said it was a house of torture. Of course there was the obligatory dare as a number of us climbed through a basement window. But our courage quickly faded and we always ran at the sound of the first creak or noise from the floor above.
It was said that at exactly the right time everyday, as the sun went down, the light would shine through the unbroken windows and would cast shadows that appeared to be ghosts. We stood for hours waiting for just the right moment to catch a glimpse of them moving about.
No one ever really answered the question of “Who Lives Here?” as hard as we all tried to imagine.