Everyone Has A Story, Here's One of Mine

 

I've been thinking of writing an autobiography or memoir but it just never comes together for me but I figured if I write one story at a time and post it on my blog maybe once a month, I can do that. Maybe one day I'll pull all the stories together and put them in a book but for now I'll just share some stories with you about my childhood. Some of the stories will be happy, some sad and some horrific because that was my childhood. But they will all be real, things that actually happened. If it seems like something that people enjoy reading maybe I'll keep it going. These stories will not be in any kind of order, I'll just write them as they come to me. 

Our House In Enumclaw, Washington 1977

 I'm gonna tell you a true story about this house we lived in for a year in Washington State and why it still gives me the creeps. 

Back in 1977 when I was 7 years old we moved into a huge house in Washington State. We moved there because my mom had a bunch of family there and she wanted to spend some time with them. We still had our house back in California and my parents planned on moving back after a while. I loved the house we moved into because it had so many rooms and places to play hide and seek with my brother. One day my brother and I were playing in the huge basement where the washer and dryer was and noticed a door in the back of the basement. It was locked but it had one of those big keyholes below the door knob and we were able to look into the room. We saw hospital beds with bloody sheets, medical cabinets with medical instruments and old medicine bottles in that room. 

We ran upstairs to tell our parents but at first they didn't believe us. So my mom came down and had a look through the keyhole and ran back upstairs to get my dad who was able to get the door open easily. We all went into the room and my dad was shocked, my mom was scared and then they saw the long, dark tunnel that led from that room to somewhere. There were light switches on the wall and my mom turned it on and that long tunnel lit up with dim lights. 

They turned the lights off and ushered us out of the room, shut the door and made us go upstairs. My dad called the owner of the house who we were renting from and was yelling at him.  I later found out that the house we were renting used to be the mortuary and funeral home for the old folks home that was right behind us a little ways down the street. The tunnel led back to the basement of the old folks home and when one of the residents passed away they used the tunnel to transport the body over to the funeral home (my house). 

To make matters worse, the house had a caretaker that had keys and he would come and go especially from the basement where the lawn care stuff was kept. The basement had a door that led outside and he would come in and out through there. My mom would be heading down to the basement where the washer and dryer was to do laundry not expecting anyone to be there and he would be down there. The first few times he scared her and my dad almost beat the hell out of him when he heard my mom screaming. But he quickly told them who he was. Dude was lucky, because my dad was not a nice guy.

The owner never did clean up that room and my brother and I used to go peek inside the room through the keyhole all the time until we moved back to California. 

My brother keeps telling me that I should write a book about our lives. Instead I'll just share these crazy stories. 

Links to the past stories. 

January 2023