The Treehouse

I grew up in a small Neighborhood. In total there were about 30 kids that My Sister and I grew up with. We had all kinds of fun. There are a greenbelt and a creek behind the neighborhood and up a hill on the other side was the better neighborhood. Now, none of us kids were allowed to play here because of snakes and other dangers.

One Saturday We all met up and decided to explore more of the wooded area. We were young and had no fear of a.k.a. young and dumb.

We found an old tree house way up in a tree, hidden by other trees and you wouldn't know it was there if you didn't know it was there.

It was old, weathered, and had small window openings on all four sides. There was an old rope hanging down on one side that was tucked into a lower branch. One of the older boys grabbed the rope and climbed up quickly, one by one We all climbed up the rope and onto the little platform. My Sister and I, Amy and her little brother, Bobby, and Timmy, and Renee were the only ones there.

We opened the door cautiously and peered inside. It was musty smelling and dark because the light was blocked by the trees. Inside there was a sleeping bag, a small table, a candle and matches, and a pile of old Mad Magazines. In a small box on one wall, there were puzzles snd comic books and a deck of cards. We decided to sit on the floor and look at the comic books and Mad magazines. Renee asked if she could read us a story out of one of the handwritten journals we found. We decided to let her, she was a good storyteller and it was a journal of ghost stories. The mood was right for it. The wind had picked up and you could hear the leaves and tree branches hitting the treehouse. It had also gotten a lot darker outside and you could smell the rain coming. Now We should have headed home, But this was something new for us and it was a secret place for us all so We stayed.

She lit the candle and stuck it in a small tin can that was empty. You could smell the match burn, the candle lighting, and the earthy smell of the storm. The candle barely lit the room and gave off shadows on the walls. Slowly she started reading and it was scary and gory and it was making us lean in to hear over the wind. Thack, thack the trees were really moving and hitting the walls, The rain had started falling really hard and was blowing in. We were all captivated by the story. The goosebumps were rising on our arms and the storm was raging and the treehouse was moving with the storm.

The killer in the story had already killed several kids and was watching them. The kids were in an old abandoned building, He was in a pup tent pitched in a clump of bushes hidden from their sight. He had put things in there to lure the kids in, and it had worked. As the storm raged he waited and watched and inside the.kids were oblivious to everything going on around them. Slowly We all looked up, We were in an abandoned building filled with things to lure us in. Slowly My Sister and I rose and looked out one of the windows, But with the storm raging We could not see the ground around us. There were a lot of bushes around us and between the dark skies, and the rain and the wind it was hard to see. We went from window to window peering out to see anything and nothing. During the lightning strikes, We could see small patches of trees and bushes and brush. By now We are all at windows looking out, Renee is looking through the journal and she tosses it away towards the box by the wall. " I am scared," She says

" We are all scared," I say. Bobby who is a small boy opens the door and grabs the rope and pulls it up and ties it on the railing. He is soaking wet when he comes in and shuts the door. We find an old blanket and wrap it around him, it is getting cool in the treehouse. The candle is almost out and it is pitch dark outside and the storm is really bad. We have no idea how long We have been here or what time it is. When the candle burned out We sat on the floor and held hands and waited out the storm. The sound of the storm was deafening and We were all scared, But none of us cried.

When the storm had passed the sun came out and Bobby threw the rope back down after We looked all around for a tent or a person. The boys went down first, the girls went last. We all ran to our homes and We all got grounded. We said We were at the other kid's homes. We promised not to talk about the treehouse or what We found there. A week later We returned to the creek and could not find the treehouse. We found the spot it had been because there was a comic book laying in the mud ruined. But other than that there was no sign it had been there and We noticed there was a patch of weeds in the bushes smashed down and four holes in the dirt from tent stakes.

We never played at the creek again and after that Summer we all went our separate ways because of school and friends snd social clicks. I am telling this now to my grandkids who have just told me about a treehouse they found in the woods near their home.

I am going there tonight armed with a Bible, my gun, a flashlight, lighter fluid, and matches. It has been 60+ years since My treehouse adventure, But I remember every minute of it. I dream about it. Tomorrow I will burn it down. I will destroy it.

arriving I trudge into the woods and after a bit I find it, and I can smell the storm brewing. It has not changed and I am scared as I find the rope and begin to climb. Pouring the fluid all over the floor and down the rope I slide down the rope and light it. The rope burns quickly and the treehouse is engulfed in flames. The storm is here, The wind is fierce and the treehouse sounds like a million children crying, then poof it is gone along with the storm. At home the next morning I am found dead in My bed.

The treehouse is poofing into a forest a hundred miles away. It looks s little scorched but otherwise abandoned.