Bloody Footprints – Ghost Story
Years ago, several of the young men of the community got together, and for lack of anything more exciting to do, decided to spend the night in an old abandoned house nearby, that was reputed to be haunted. A woman had been murdered there by her husband several years before. He had been sent to prison, and the house was left empty.
The ghost of the murdered woman was rumored to return on the anniversary of her death, to “relive” the moments before her death. The date of the anniversary was at hand, so what better time to explore the rumors?
Just before nightfall, a group of six men ventured into the old, two story house, and set up “camp” in the empty living room. After getting settled, they decided to explore. Breaking up in groups of two, each group armed with a flashlight, they began to search the house. The first group made their way down into the basement area, the second began to search the ground floor level, while the third made their way upstairs. A thick layer of dust covered the floors and fixtures in each room. While the parties downstairs made their way through each room, the third couple ascended the stairs to the upper level. About three quarters of the way up the stairs, their light fell upon what looked to be a bloody footprint on the stair tread. Though dust covered, the print had a wet, shiny red appearance, as though the blood were fresh, and somehow seeping up through the layer of grime. At the top of the stairs, on the hall landing, they were greeted with the sight of yet another bloodstain, quite large, as though a body had lain there bleeding at some time. It, too, had the strangely shiny gloss of fresh blood seeping up through the dust. Unnerved, the two men abandoned their search and retreated downstairs. A short while later, the other two groups returned from their quest, having found nothing exciting in their search.
When told of the discovery made by the two men on the stairs and in the hallway, the other men expressed some disbelief, but were made uneasy enough not to venture upstairs. Deciding to spend the remainder of the night in the living room, they made their selves as comfortable as possible, and settled in to rest, though sleep was hard to come by for each of them.
They lay there in the darkness, listening to the creaks and groans of the settling house, and to the sound of the summer breeze moaning through the broken windows and sagging doorways.
Around two AM, the stillness was shattered. Suddenly, from upstairs, the sound of a terrified scream pierced the night. It was immediately followed by a loud “BANG”, as though someone had fired a gun, and the thud of something falling in the hallway upstairs.
The men, paralyzed by the sound of the obvious scream, were propelled into action at the other sounds that followed. All six made a mad dash toward the outside door. In terror, each made his own escape, with the fate of his fellow campers forgotten. They didn’t return to collect their belongings, and abandoned them to whatever spirits there might be in the old farmhouse.
Their experience in the old house made believers of all six men. I know, for my father was one of the six who ventured inside, and one of the two who witnessed the bloody stains.
© Paulette Boyd
