Suburban Haunt

Suburban Haunt

We lost again: trash can Monty with the local black bear.
My neighbor walks over as I pick up my trash.
"You really should get the metal cans, the ones that lock," he says.
I smile and nod. Across the street, the old Hampstead house
has no trash cans out this week, same as last.
"Does anyone live there?" I ask the neighbor.
"Don't think so," he says, rolling an apple core towards me with his shoe.
I keep an eye out for the bear the rest of the day, knowing he'll
probably wait for night to circle back.
I noticed that the front door of the Hampstead house is wide open,
perhaps kicked loose by the autumn wind.
I put on my jacket and head over to close it.
As I get to the door, I notice the dining room chairs
scattered on their sides and dusty curtains pulled from their rods.
I call out but no response. I hear furniture being moved around upstairs.
I walk up the stairs, my heart a startled sparrow wanting to escape.
At the top of the stairs, a black figure appears from one of the bedrooms.
I scream and it runs in front of me, down the stairs, and out the open door.
I notice a picture on the wall of an elderly couple.
My neighbor shows up at the front porch and asks
"What the hell was that thing?"
I am about to tell him it was the bear but stop myself.
Instead I tell him, "It was a dark spirit, a ghost
I was forced to battle and won."
His eyes are the shape of large marbles.
I pull the front door closed behind me and step out into the cold air.
When he asks why did I even come over to the house, I reply:
"How was I supposed to know it was haunted?"