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January 26
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:iconusersmind:
It was in the pre-dawn hours of a moon lit Sunday morning. I was patrolling the east side of town. It had been a very quiet graveyard shift and I was looking forward to going home. Of course...that’s when things usually happen...and this morning would be no different. There had been an armed robbery of an individual. The suspect ran in the direction I was coming from...but he just seemed to vanish. The area is littered with abandoned houses and is the perfect place to lose yourself until the heat dies down a little. As I drove past one of these houses I noticed that the plywood covering the door had been pulled out a little, so I checked out on my radio and went inside to see if this might be where the suspect was hiding. I don’t need to mention that it can be a little spooky creeping around old house in the dark by yourself...especially looking for a ghost with a gun. I checked the house and was carefully making my way back down a narrow hallway that led into the living room and the front door. Moonlight pierced every little opening in the walls and highlighted different areas like small flashlights. It was in this hallway that I first felt it. A subtle “whoosh” of a breeze that tickled the hairs on my arm. I froze in my tracks...was someone in here with me...my every sense was in a heightened state. Nothing...I stepped forward...and “whoosh” it happened again. My attention was drawn to the areas highlighted in the moonlight. Goosebumps now ruled the night. I was physically alone...but my minds eye saw things a little differently. I returned to my car and sat staring at the house while I checked in by radio. Ghosts are for the movies I thought to myself...but It was if the house didn’t want me to leave. I couldn’t help but to start writing the poem “When Walls Speak”
:iconusersmind:
~Usersmind Jan 26, 2013
The original photo was taken by my friend Hollis Shadden, from Jefferson, Texas. He allowed me its use and allowed me to edit it for the poem
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