South Texas Haunted                     Six Flags                         

James Cameron

South Texas Haunted House

A high school school aquaintance's house was, or is, haunted. I visited the
now deserted site the other day after 25 years away, and the house is still
there. Old and timeless -- built by slaves in the 1860's, now empty and
still, the proto-typical haunted house. It is miles in the middle of
nowhere, a marked historic landmark now, but not, apparently, well kept.
There is a fence and gate surrounding the house and about 10 overgrown
surrounding acres. When I visited, it was a windless, motionless, utterly
quiet afternoon, the shadows growing. I felt a sort of unease, the kind I
haven't felt in decades. My wife, remaining in the car, became fearful
also, and demanded I get back in the car and drive away.

My aquaintance's aunt died painfully in an upstairs bedroom in the 50's. He
and his family would casually offer to allow anyone who cared to, to try to
spend the night in the death bedroom; no one who tried, not a single
individual, ever did make it through the night; all left the room, and
usually the house, by 1:00 a.m. "Usually, if she sits on the bed with 'em,
that's when they come tearing down the stairs." they used to say. "Some
people don't even stop. You'll hear the back door slam, the car door slam,
and off they go out the drivaway."

Several friends or aquaintances of mine, scornful, full of South Texas
bravado, took the family up on the offer; one, I vividly recall, had become
thoroughly terrified by the experience. The story he told me, as best I
remember those years ago, was that somewhere around midnight or 1 a.m., he
awoke, sleepy and groggy, to a freezing room, his breath visible in the
moonlight. He was confused, because this was summer.

As he sat up in bed, footsteps moved across the creaky floor, but no one was
in the room; yet something moved across the floor, the boards creaking, and
sat in a chair. Whatever it was then walked over to the bed and sat down,
depressing the matress. I remember the fear in his voice as he told me that
he realized that something was about to touch him on the shoulder. He lept
to the door, hurtled down the stairs and out the back door, vowing never to
return to the house.

No; this is not a made-up story. If there is enough interest expressed on
this thread, I will return to the house -- it is 80 miles from my current
home -- and take pictures and put up on a website.

Peace
 

Dean

Sounds very cool. The way you describe the house and the location it sounds like the quintessential haunted house. I would love to see pics, but don’t take a trip on my account. Is this place in south Texas? If so, the chances are it is only about 80 miles from me as well, and based on your recollections I would love to go there myself and take some photos. Anyway, thanks for the story

James Cameron

Hi Dean. Yea, it is an unusual place, south of Houston some ways. Maybe it looks so strange because I know the history of the house, and wouldn't look so strange to others. It is funny, though, that a wood house built by slaves would still stand, all alone out there, deserted, indifferent to the elements and time.

I wouldn't make a special trip to take pictures, but I do get down that way now and then, as I have a sister now living a half hour or so from the house. I'm sure I'll get there to take them at some point in any event.

When I was there that day with the wife not long ago, I thought aloud to her after I parked and got out, "Can you imagine ANYBODY going into that house honey? Here it is, bright day.......I wouldn't go even inside that fence, not to save my own..." In the absolute, deathly silence of the late afternoon, I remember my voice seeming very intrusive as I spoke, almost unwelcome...had I indeed even spoken?? I almost doubted that I had.....I never remember before forgetting if I had actually voiced a thought aloud, or just thought it. There was something very dampening here. And the silence and stillness....not a whisper, not a hint of a breeze in the air.

Then, outside the car...I tried to read the historical marker, yet couldn't read it un-interrupted; my attention was repeatedly drawn away from the plaque towards the house; I felt, oddly, that something would (touch me? what?) if I became absorbed in the words, if I didn't keep a watch out. And the house. Larger than I remembered from 25 years ago... those windows, looking for all the world like empty, dark eyes, fixed towards the sky in frozen, gaunt stare. Had I ever experienced total silence without peace?......something..not..*quite*..right....I remember keeping my head still, almost afraid to move (why?). I searched the grounds by slowly scanning my eyes, truly half-expecting to lock upon another set staring back at me. I wondered momentarily how far away was the nearest sane human habitation, in case we, or somebody here, god only knows, ever needed assistance. I know, imagination running away, but still....but what?? The store at the intersection down the road, the one where, in my adoloscence, we used to flag passers-by to stop and buy beer, now long boarded, like many of the houses well beyond. I couldn't help wonder if the nearest living folks knew the secrets of the house....what did they know? My wife, I now realized, had already asked me more than once to please get in the car; I did so, and began backing out to drive away. "Honey?", I asked her. "This is the house I told you about, remember?" After some silence, during which I realized her eyes had been downcast probably for the duration of the visit, she answered "Yes. There might be something here, James; in China, we were taught that when there is death with terror, the spirit remains until released. Please James; never bring me back or discuss this, EVER. This could be VERY bad luck even to discuss this place."