𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞. | ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞.

The Swan Dive

I grew up in a haunted house.

The whole family knew the house was haunted. We'd all experienced paranormal events together and apart within the house.

It was never a constant everyday thing. There would be periods of inactivity and periods of activity. There were "hot spots" you could avoid to try and keep from having a pants shitting experience, but there were no guarantees.

My mom believed the ghosts were there to help her. I have no idea what gave her that idea. None of what they did was the slightest bit friendly. It wasn't unusual to be in real physical danger.

Humans are very adaptable. They can live in just about any environment if given the time to adjust. I had adjusted.

I was 13 years old and waking up for school. The house hadn't made a peep in months. The morning was peaceful. The scent of tea and toast. My grandmother waiting to take me to school.

There was nothing to indicate something was wrong. The temperature hadn't dropped. No unusual noises. No glass flying across the rooms. Still, my stomach was in knots.

Usually, when I'd get a bad feeling, I couldn't wait to leave the house. This time, I dreaded the thought. I asked my grandma to let me stay home. That was a hard no. You didn't miss school unless you were dying. Not on Grams watch. Besides, she'd come just to ready me and get me to school. Mom was passed out in bed as usual.

She was a drunk. It wouldn't be til noon or later that she'd rise out of bed for some coffee and smokes.

At school, I was a wreck. I just knew something sinister was happening at home. My school wasn't far. I could easily walk there and back. I couldn't tell you why Gram always insisted on dropping me off and picking me up. I decided to bail.

I walked off the school property and in the direction of home. The closer I got, the sicker I felt. More than once, I was overcome with nausea and forced to sit down.

When I finally made it to my house, I was chilled to the bone. There, it stood dark and unforgiving. More menacing than it had ever felt before. I felt physically repelled away from it.

Everything in me screamed not to go in. The thought of my mother passed out inside forced me up the front steps.

When I walked in, the house was dark and cold. My grandmother always opened up all the curtains to let the sunshine in every morning. They had all been closed. Not a single light was on. My teeth were chattering. It had been warm just outside.

I called for my mom and headed for her bedroom. Her usual spot in bed was empty. Next, I headed for the garage; her smoking spot. She wasn't there either. She wasn't responding to me. I searched the entire upstairs; no mom.

The house was "upside down." Meaning you were upstairs when you entered. The downstairs was the spookiest area of the whole house. No one ever went down there. I stared down the steps and called for mom again. No answer.

With a heavy heart, I descended the steps.

The downstairs had a living room and a master bedroom. Despite many attempts to make it a livable space, its issues stopped it from becoming anything but a no man's land. Electricity hardly worked down there. When it did choose to work, you could count on it only lighting a single lamp. The master bedroom would have been beautiful. But its accompanied master bath had been left in unfinished ruins. The master bath was the one room you could always count on something paranormal happening. It was a room full of dirt, rats, and wooden support beams. The only fully constructed thing in there was a small door. It was at the back of the room, no taller than that of a 4 year old child. The door was ornate. Carvings were etched in with gold trim and a golden handle. It led to a secret entrance/exit at the side of the home. My mother (and father before he left) had spent thousands attempting to finish that bathroom. Construction workers frequently quit. Anything that did get built fell apart, and like the rest of the downstairs, electricity refused its job.