George had dared me to spend the night with him in the old supposedly haunted house on Western Row Road– a long way from the center of town — on a warm August evening in 1952. — Need I tell you that it wasn’t an hour after we made our way into that creepy old place that we left it in a hurry. We never saw anything or heard anything in the old place, but after we had sat there for a few minutes every shadow, every breath of wind hitting the outside of the old house, every unexplained thump and squeak from the settling house inspired the worst attack of paranoid adrenalin that either of us had ever suffered … and we were more than glad to get the hell out of there.
IT'S ME AGAIN 