The Old Haunted House

They said it was haunted, that old Queen Anne mansion at the end of Maple Street. Every night there was a faint light flickering in the third-floor tower window.  When anyone dared to climb the steps onto the wraparound porch, no one would answer the door. The yard was always immaculate, though no one ever saw the grass being mowed or the bushes being trimmed. Rumors flew that a witch lived there and put a spell on the plants so they would neither grow nor wither.

The house became a favorite subject in the game of Truth or Dare for the local schoolboys.

"Reed, I dare you to go to the old haunted house and ring the doorbell," Henrik said, dribbling a basketball across his driveway and passing it to Peter. The descending sun perched, for the moment, on the browning treetops.

"And I dare you to do it after dark," Peter added, jogging in for a lay-up. 

Reed's eyes widened as he caught the rebound. It was his first time hanging out with these boys. New to the neighborhood and the school, and desperate to make new friends, or at the very least to not become a laughingstock, Reed squashed down the trepidation he was feeling and said, "Okay, you're on. Where is this haunted house?" He lobbed the ball towards Henrik. 

Henrik caught it with ease. "Come on, we'll show you." He tossed the basketball into the yard and headed down the sidewalk. After taking a few side streets and cutting through a few back alleys, the three boys turned onto Maple Street. A chill wind made them shiver. Henrik zipped his jacket up to his chin.

The boys followed the cracked sidewalk down to the end of the lane, crunching through brown leaves. Soon they stopped at the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the old haunted house. 

"Here it is," Peter said.

Reed tried and failed to cover up his smirk. "This old place?" 

As if with a wink, the sun twinkled and dropped out of sight. The maple trees that lined the street rustled in the breeze, dropping  more leaves to the ground below.

Reed pushed open the heavy metal gate. It opened quietly, it's hinges well-greased. 

"You're- you're really going to do it?" Henrik asked. 

"Sure," Reed said. "Come on."

Henrik and Peter looked at each other, shaking their heads nervously. They hovered back at the gate while Reed approached the house. A black cat darted out of the deepening shadows and rubbed against the ankles of Reed's jeans. 

"Hello Ebony," Reed whispered, reaching down to give the cat a scratch on the head. 

"Don't touch it; it's bad luck!" Peter called after Reed. 

Reed laughed and beckoned to Henrik and Peter. "Come on, guys." He sauntered up to the front door, twisted the ornate knob, and walked right in. "Aunt May? I'm home."

Henrik and Peter exchanged glances and followed Reed. "This is your aunt's house?" 

"Yeah, my great aunt. I just moved in." 

The three boys gathered in the main hall, where a lone lamp was all that offered light. An elderly lady came down a spiral staircase, a crocheted shawl draping over her dainty shoulders. Her gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She was a wisp of a woman, but she seemed spry enough. 

"Who might you fellows be?" Aunt May asked. Her voice was crackly and warm. 

Peter looked to Henrik, uncertainty and nervousness clouding his face. 

Henrik took a step forward and said, "Uh, Ma'am? I'm Henrik. This is Peter. We go to school with Reed here. Sorry to intrude, ma'am."

"Never you mind. You are most welcome," Aunt May said. "Come, come. Let's get you something warm to drink."

Henrik shrugged, and Peter shivered. It was just as cold inside as it was outside. "A warm drink sounds nice," Henrik said. 

Aunt May ushered the three boys down a long narrow hallway with damask wallpaper. The hallway became darker the further they retreated from the main entryway. Before long the newcomers could barely see and started bumping into each other.

Aunt May muttered something to herself while her fingers flicked across a light switch. Overhead, a chandelier lit up, bedazzling the guests. When their eyes adjusted, they found themselves in a dining room with a long wooden table with rococo chairs lined up on either side.  

"Have a seat, boys," Aunt May said, pulling out two of the chairs. "Come help me, Reed."

Reed followed his aunt into the nearby kitchen. He stoked a fire in the old wood stove and put a kettle on, while Aunt May dug around in cupboards for this spice and that. When the kettle whistled that it was ready, she poured the hot water into a teapot and began making a concoction for the guests. Reed saw her throw in a pinch of cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg, a wee bit of cloves, and several other ingredients he didn't recognize. 

Aunt May and Reed each carried two saucers with brimming teacups to the dining room. The boys all agreed that the drink tasted divine. Aunt May smiled as she sipped, pleased. 

When they were finished with their drinks, Aunt May said, "It is getting late. I think it best you boys be on your way home now so your parents don't worry." She led them back to the front door. "Please do visit again. It was so lovely to meet some of Reed's friends." She closed the door as Henrik and Peter disappeared into the night. 

"Good night, Aunt May," Reed said, retreating to his room on the first floor.

"Good night, Reed," the old woman replied as she ascended the stairs to her bedroom in the third floor of the tower where she turned on her favorite lamp and settled into a chair to read.

As Henrik and Peter looked back at the house they saw the lamp light in the upper window.

"I guess there's no witch there after all," Henrik said.

"I wonder how she keeps her yard so nice," Peter said. 

Back in the mansion, Aunt May chuckled to herself as she flipped through the pages of her book. The book's cover said, "How to Boost Your Home's Curb Appeal... and Other Spells."