The Old House

A forbidden trunk, a forgotten farmhouse, and the summer day childhood innocence cracked open...

Everyone’s asleep but me. I just had to tell someone what happened today. I’m almost aftaid to. The only other people in the world who know are my cousins, Mindy and Phil.

They were with me. First I’d better tell you where I am.

I’m at Grandma’s house. I get to come here every summer. The house is on a big hill and all around it are fields of wheat and cotton and corn. Halfway down the hill is a gigantic tree with my swing on it. Off to the side of the house aways, is the barn with a hayloft in it and cows to milk. And way out back, on the other side of the chicken coop, is the Old House. That’s where the trunk is.

Grandpa is usually busy driving his tractor or seeing to the pigs, so mostly I’m with Grandma. We bake pies or can stuff from her garden or go berry-picking or make things. Last week we made boxes out of popsicle sticks. We pasted pictures of Jesus on them, then some shellack.

My favorite thing is going fishing. I have a straw hat I wear that used to be Grandpa’s. It’s got a hole in it and loose straw ends stick out. I get a lot of mosquito and chigger bites when I go fishing, but it’s worth it.

On the way to the pond, I always say, “Can we stop at the Old House?” Sometimes we pack a picnic with velveta and saltines and the best tomatoes in the world that Grandma grows herself. We eat on the porch of the Old House and then I beg Grandma to go inside with me. She doesn’t like to, I don’t really know why. She thinks it’s dangerous because the paint’s gone and it’s so old. It must be hundreds of years old from the way it smells. Grandma was born and grew up there. It used to be on top of the hill where the new house is, but they moved it back somehow.

Grandma always thinks of stories from when she was little. Bands of gypsies used to come by and steal their eggs. There were no refrigerators then or even electricity, so they used fireplace, lanterns, and candlelight. When it was cold, Grandma and all her nine brothers and sisters would cuddle up by the fire and tell ghost stories. They didn’t have televisions. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.

Grandma never lets me go upstairs because she says the floors are rotten and we’ll fall through. Except a few times.

We walked very carefully on the rafters. It was really spooky up there and wonderful. There are still parts of the beds they slept in and old clothes and toys and books. Just like they left yesterday, only a hundred years ago.

Once I found a clay kewpie doll with no arms. “I don’t know what you’d want with that old thing. “ I remember she called me peculiar but she let me take the doll home anyway. It was on that same trip that I found the trunk.

“Now don’t go messin’ around with that old trunk.”

“Can’t we open it, Grandma. Please?”

“Naw. You don’t wanta go pilferin’ around in there. It’s nasty.”

I begged her until she got mad and we had to leave. From that day on, every time I’d ask to go to the Old House, she’a say. “As long as you don’t go botherin’ me about that ol’ trunk.” I’d have to promise that I wouldn’t.

So yesterday on our way fishing -

oh, I forgot to tell you! I caught three catfish and a turtle. Grandma cut the turtle’s head off because she was mad at him for eating our bait. That turtle’s still walking around without his head.

We ate one of the catfish because he was big enough and threw the others back. Chickens walk around without their heads here, too. And their eyes blink; I always wonder what they’re thinking about, watching their bodies flop around, having just had their heads wrung off. It gives me a weird feeling. Grandma says they don’t think anymore after their necks are broken, even if their eyes do blink, but you never know. I accidentally stepped on a baby chick once. It never got to grow up and that was all my fault. Grandma says I oughtn’t to be still thinking about it because it’s over and there’s no way to change what’s done.

Yesterday, Grandma forgot to make me promise not to bother her about the trunk. I wasn’t going to go bothering her anyway, I was just going to ask. We were on the porch when I said, “Grandma, in all my years coming out here to visit the Old House, I’ve never known what’s inside the trunk.” I wasn’t asking her to open it or anything, just to tell me what’s inside.

“You don’t want to go thinking about that ol’ thing.” And that was that. It was suddenly time to go home and get ready for prayer meetin’.

My cousins were at church and they invited me to spend the night. I have a crush on Phil but can never marry him because we’re related. He’s thirteen and he smokes, but no one’s supposed to know. Mindy’s younger than me and she already wears a bra even though she’s perfectly flat and doesn’t need it. Last summer Phil told us a very important secret about married people. We thought he was lying, but later found out it was true.

So last night we stayed up very late and I told my cousins about the trunk. We sat up all night in the dark, whispering stories to each other about what could be inside. Family jewels, I hoped, or silver dollars.

Phil thought it would be dead babies or old bones. He said we were going to find out.

We went back to Grandma’s this morning and she packed us a lunch to take fishing. Since Phil’s almost fourteen, she lets us go alone.

“Be careful and don’t fall in, and watch out for snakes, and don’t get one of those hooks in your eyes -- it might blind you.” She forgot to tell us to stay away from the Old House.

I was real excited and nervous all the way there. I forgot to watch what I was doing and stepped in a cow patty. God was punishing me in advance.

While we were climbing the fence, I started to feel real scared, like maybe we shouldn’t, but Phil said, “C’mon, you’re the one who wants to know what’s inside.”

I prayed for God to forgive me for what I was about to do. Mindy chickened out and said she’d stay downstairs and be our lookout.

As we were climbing the stairs, I told Phil about the floor and how we had to walk on the rafters, but he wouldn’t listen and walked right on the floor. This made my heart beat twice as fast. We’d really be in trouble if he fell through. I was hot and sweaty and wished I was at the pond where I was supposed to be.

I took Phil to the room where the trunk is. He looked at it and grinned. Then tried to open it.

My chigger bites had started to itch like crazy. I wished it wouldn’t open. I didn’t really want to know. It might be something awful.

When he finally got inside dust flew out all over the place. He pulled out a big black coat with wasps’ nests all over it

“Look, there’s a name sewn in it. Ada Hobbs.” That was our great-grandma who died before we were born. Then Phil pulled out a box. Inside, there were more boxes. He handed me one and I opened it and found two long black braids. I held them up trying to picture them attached my great-grandmother’s head. She’s dead, gone, and there I was, holding her hair in my bare hands.

I heard someone come up behind me and whipped my head around. There was no one there that I could see.

There were other things, too. Earrings, the kind you stick in a hole in your ear. And eye glasses, even teeth. Some boxes we didn’t even open because we left. I guess Phil got spooked too, although he didn’t say so.

I never did tell Grandma. Bet I stay up all night thinking about it. I never saw a dead person, but that was sure close. It’s weird how she’s dead and disintegrated and her hair still looks as real as anyone’s. I guess Grandma didn’t want to look because it would make her sad to see her mom’s hair without the face. I hope my mom never dies.

I still feel like someone’s looking over my shoulder. Sure wish I didn’t have to feel like this. Guess my dad will die too, someday. I don’t want to think about it because I know nothing can be done. But I can’t help it.

Just think, someday, maybe my grandkids will look at my things. If I even get to grow up and have kids. My stomach feels awful.

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