The Donahue House

From: Stanley Puckett (blackops81@hotmail.com)
Story type: Ghost
Location: Chiacago Il.
Source: Form Submission

The Donahue House

I'm 50 years old, and the following story happened to me when I was 17. And still today every time I think about it, the fear runs down my spine.

At the end of the block where I lived in those days was an old but large wood frame house. Probably one of the first homes built there when the area was first developed. And the last of the original. they were all newer homes on the block now. my dad figured Donahue house to be about 150 years old.

Henry Donahue was the last owner of the house. The house had been abandoned since Mr. Donahue died, A year before I was born. Mr. Donahue had left strict instructions in his will that after his death that the house would never be sold, rented, or otherwise occupied. The word around the neighborhood was that old Mr. Donahue still occupied the house, in spirit. There was always talk of seeing lights go on and off in the house even though there's been no electricity in the house since the old man died. And images of a man standing in an upstairs window had been mentioned from time to time.

Well as you may have already guest, myself and 4 friends of mine being bored teenagers decided that we would explore the old house. What a mistake that was. And to make things more interesting, we decided to all put ten dollars in a can as to create a prize. The $50 prize was to be given to or divided up by who ever could stay in the house for 2 hours starting at midnight.

Everyone met in front of the house with flashlights in hand at about 5 till. We then decided to each wait out the 2 hours in separate rooms. Midnight had come, we all walked up the front steps on to the porch. I noticed that the front door was wide, and that it had a weird shaped window in it. I turned the knob to open the door, the door opened with a long creaking sound. I started laughing to myself because this was starting out like an old B horror movie.

We entered the house and closed the door behind us. we found ourselves in what seemed to be the living room. Our five flashlight beams were barely piercing the darkness. It was unfurnished and in a severe state of disrepair. There also seemed to be a light mist or fog about the place. But I attributed this to the heat and humidity of this hot July evening. Although I was never one that believed in ghost and goblins, I had a definite sense of dread.

We began to go up the stairs to the upper floors, we were about half way up when we heard the creaking of a door slowly opening. We had all heard the sound before, it was the front door we had just entered. We all turned around figuring it was either the police or one of our parents who had seen us go in. But when we turned around no one was there, only a wide open door. Trying our best to be logical we all agreed that the door was not closed properly when we came in.

We continued up the stairs when suddenly we heard a loud slam from behind us. Five flashlight beams turned and aimed at the front door. It had slammed shut so hard that it broke the small glass window in it. O.K. now my logic has left the building. And I was beginning to get A bit nervous. We continued up the stairs.

It was a five bedroom house 3 on the second floor and 2 on the third. I took the master bedroom on the second floor. My friends split up into the 4 remaining bedrooms. I sat down on the floor of the room with my back to the wall, where I could see both the door and the large window. I had been sitting there in the dark and the quite for about 15 minutes when my flashlight went out. I had just put fresh batteries in it before I left my house. I remember saying to myself "THIS IS NOT GOOD"

I found myself in total darkness. Just then I heard fast walking coming from upstairs. then I heard running. these sounds repeated a few times then the sounds came down stairs on my floor. suddenly I heard my friend Walter who was next door to me screaming," I GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE, LET ME OUTTA HERE" Then I heard footsteps running past my door, my heart was racing a hundred miles an hour. I went to the door to go see if Walter was o.k. But just as I was about to open it, it flung open.

All I could make out was a shadowy figure over six feet tall, I recognized the figure as Walter. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the room almost dragging me down the stairs. As we got to the front door which was wide open again Walter stopped but he flung me out the door and slammed the door shut . As I picked myself up off the front porch I was thinking how Walter has lost his mind if he thinks he's going to win that $50 prize this way.

I was about to go back into the house when I noticed 4 figures standing out on the street off the property. After closer inspection I realized it was my friends, including Walter. You could always tell Walter, he was very tall and slim. My heart just plain stopped when I saw him standing there. If he's there then who had my arm? It seemed that the same thing happened to them that happened to me. Only they thought it was me that did it. And they all said they saw no one but me at the door when I came tumbling out.

My wrist was still hurting, I raised my arm to look at it and the evidence was clear. I showed my friends and asked "then how did I get right hand fingerprint bruises on my right wrist" everyone looked , our flashlights were working again, and you could plainly see 3 finger marks and a thumb on my wrist. Something or someone that had only four fingers on its right hand had put a death grip on my wrist.

I asked my dad the next morning if he had ever seen Mr. Donahue , and what did he look like? Dad said that appearances of Mr. Donahue outside his house were extremely rare, but after his death a full picture of Donahue was printed in the community newspaper. He was about 6ft. 4in. tall slim build white hair and about 77years old when he died. Oh and his index finger on his right hand was missing, how he lost it no one knows.

Needless to say neither myself or my friends ever so much as walked past the Donahue house again.

S.C. Puckett
blackops81@hotmail.com