Grandpa’s House I grew up in Upstate New York and some of my fondest and scariest memories come from living at my grandpa’s house. He had come over from Lebanon in the early 1900’s with his parents to make a better life. I really don’t know anything about my great grandparents or where they settled. I only know just a little about grandpa and the things I remember about him and his house. I was only nine when grandpa died, but these are some of the few memories I have of childhood. My grandpa settled in a small town called Alexandria Bay, about 30 miles from the Canadian border. He lived on a road called Swan Hollow and this whole stretch had uncles and older cousins living on it. The road was better known as Side road. Side was grandpa’s surname after he change the spelling from Syde. I guess back in the early days grandpa and his parents just wanted to fit in. He gave up his native language of Arabic and learned English. Grandpa met and married my grandmother who was French Canadian, and he built her a beautiful house in 1914. I don’t remember my grandmother, other than the fact that she had a deep gruff voice and looked scary. I was only four years old when she died in 1966. The house had stone from the ground to about six feet up, and the rest was made of wood shingles painted brown, with an olive-green trim. Standing in the front of the house was a front door that led into the living room. To the right there was an enclosed porch that led to the kitchen. Most people used this entrance to come in the house. Once in the kitchen there was a bathroom to the right and stairs to the cellar. Walking towards the left was the living room, and off the living room was grandpa’s bedroom and a set of stairs to the top floor. Once at the top of the stairs there was a bedroom off to the left and to the right was a hallway and another small bedroom to the left. The end of the hallway had two large bedrooms. It was a big house, but creepy to my nine-year-old self. This house was filled with love. Not only did grandpa live in the house, but my Aunt Rosie and her three sons who ranged in ages eight to sixteen years old. Then of course my mother, older brother and younger sister. Our ages ranged from eight to sixteen years old also. It must have been chaotic at times, but being young it didn’t seem to faze me. Now that we have the setting and all of the players, let’s move on to the spooky part. Some of you may or may not believe in ghosts, but I’m here to tell you otherwise. The house always had a spooky feel to it, and my mother and aunt always talked about the ghostly apparition of a woman who would appear under the large maple tree in the front yard. Personally, I never saw her and I didn’t really want to. I just took their word for it. The mothers also loved to play with the Ouija board in that house. They were convinced that little board piece would move all on its own after they asked it a question. Here again I’ll take their word for it. I’ve never had the desire to play with a Ouija board, because all it does is beckon bad spirits. They can stay right where there as far as I’m concerned. Another odd fact was as children we were never allowed down in the cellar. It may have been because it was a dirt floor down there. I would stand at the top of the stairs when my mother went down there for canned goods. It looked creepy, and I am one child they never had to worry about going down there for anything. Call me smart or call me a coward, but you could almost feel the evil down there. This may have been my nine-year-old self having an overactive imagination. I think not! My sister, cousin, and I were forced to sleep in the room at the top of the stairs. We hated it and were always afraid something was going to get us. Many nights we imagined that we would go to sleep and not wake up. Like I say, this house was scary. There were pictures on the wall that had eyes that seemed to follow you when you moved. They may have been relatives, but they were creepy. Even the older boys were scared to death of the house. Imagine how eight- and nine-year old’s felt? One night my sister, Delia and my cousin, Greg, and I decided we were hungry. We weren’t sleeping, so we decided to sneak down to the kitchen to get a snack. We had to be extra quiet, because grandpa’s bedroom was at the bottom of the stairs. We hoped he wouldn’t hear us since he didn’t have his hearing aids in. We slowly crept our way to the kitchen holding on to each other for moral support. Once in the kitchen Delia got the jelly and bread, Greg grabbed the peanut butter, and I grabbed the plates and knives. We were whispering softly as we were getting our slices of bread when out of nowhere one of the knives raised up and went flying towards our heads. We all let a Banshee scream out of our mouths and started running for the stairs. I reached the stairs first and tried to get up them, but Delia and Greg were clawing me backwards. We kept trying to get up the stairs and failing. We were still screaming, and finally grandpa appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and our respective mothers appeared at the top. I instantly ran to grandpa (I was his favorite), and Delia and Greg continued to the top of the stairs. We were talking over each other and not making any sense. When we finally calmed down, we told our story, and grandpa just chuckled. What did he know that we didn’t?  Needless to say, no one had peanut butter and jelly that night. Call us crazy, but we experienced what we did. Another harrowing experience was the rocking chair. Grandpa and I were in the living room watching TV. Everyone was either outside or in town running errands. All of a sudden, the rocking chair started rocking. I let out another banshee scream and ran over and jumped in grandpa’s lap. He just chuckled and said, “Child don’t be afraid, It’s just Ella coming by to say hi.” Ella was my grandmother's name. I said, “Grandpa make her go away, I’m scared.” He said, “Ella your scaring the child, I love you, but you must leave now.” Just like that the chair stopped. I stayed in grandpa’s lap until my mother returned. These types of incidents continued for the next couple years. Grandpa was bedridden by now, and so when my mother and aunt would go into town for drinks, they would leave us with the older boys. They hated that house as much as the rest of us, however, the older boys always left us younger ones alone with grandpa. Being the brave soul I was, I got on grandpa’s bed and sat at the top of his bed near his head. Delia and Greg were in the kitchen looking for food, and I was alone in the living room with grandpa. He started saying, “Don’t let me die in this house. Old Joe Moss is buried in the corner of the cellar.” He kept repeating this and I told him, “I won’t.” My young brain couldn’t quite grasp what it all meant. When my mother returned, I told her what he said. She said, “I know.” What do you mean you know I thought to myself? I was still too young and naïve to know about the evil ways of the world. My aunt and mother honored my grandpa’s wishes and moved him into a nursing home. He died about three weeks later. I cried and cried. I didn’t fully understand death, but I knew grandpa wouldn’t be coming back. After grandpa’s funeral my mother volunteered to clean the house out. I went with her as did my brother David. He was sixteen and about 200 lbs and a big chicken like me. Anyway, my mother was finished packing and cleaning for the day. I went to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, “David we’re leaving.” He dilly-dallied up stairs for reasons known only to himself. I yelled again, “Come on David we’re leaving.” He finally appeared at the top of the stairs and started descending when out of nowhere a shoe went flying near his head. I screamed, and he flew down the stairs like his ass was on fire. You never seen a 200 lb. boy move faster. We both ran towards the front door in the living room and flew out together. I never returned to grandpa’s house after that day. Mom was on her own to clean up. After all she was used to the shenanigans of the house. On a side note there wasn’t a soul in the family that wanted that house. It was sold off to an Italian family. They started having their own adventures in the house. The final straw was when they had a baby calf in the bathroom, and they came home to find the calf strangled to death. It was said grandpa didn’t like Italians. Who knew, maybe him and old Joe Moss killed the calf? My thought is, why would you keep a barn animal in the house? Needless to say, they sold the house. The next people who bought the house said they didn’t experience the supernatural. Perhaps, it was a Side curse. These people, however, were remodeling the cellar to make it a finished basement. It was discovered that human bones were found in the corner of the cellar. Were the bones old Joe Moss and if so, who was he, and what did he do to end up in the corner of the cellar? No one will ever know, because grandpa took those secrets to the grave with him. Author Notes This story are memories of grandpa's house and spooky thing I encountered.

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