Saving Melinda I

"Get over here and bring your Bible!" was all she said. Later I remembered that request as a scream.

Melinda moved to 9th and Indiana about 6 months earlier. She was living with a foster family. She had gotten pregnant by a boy in the neighborhood. She was no longer attending school.

The house, old and tattered, sat in what was at one time a very beautiful part of Des Moines. Now it was little more than a slum. Now it was a part of town where houses had bars on the windows, businesses closed early, and people looked over their shoulder a lot.

I felt bad for Melinda, living in virtual squalor, when once she'd lived in a half-million dollar house and had everything handed to her on a platter... including the new Camero in the driveway on her 16th birthday, proverbial big bow included.

Still, though she was living like and with the poor, she seemed happier by far. Well... usually.

Happier, except perhaps for the days when I'd respond to her tragically numerous "Get over here!" phone calls.

One day I came to the rescue after a particularly disturbing phone call. I approached the house from the back, by way of an alley... and gasped when I caught sight of her, on her knees, her boyfriend holding a gun to her left temple and screaming at her.

That was a bad day... although Melinda managed to make it through without getting shot. And I managed not to kick her boyfriend's a**.

There were other days -- I thought, as I drove to Melinda's... her words "...bring your Bible!" still ringing in my ears.

Melinda had always been sensitive.

She could see auras and sense spirits. I remember her father telling me the story of a Thanksgiving, many many years ago, when Melinda was just a child. All the relatives were gathered at her aunt Sharon's house (her father's sister). Everyone was seated at the table, dining on the usual fare. Everyone, that is, except for cousin Mike. He'd been, aunt Sharon explained, morose and brooding for days. She didn't know why and was frankly a little peeved about it.

"Well, it doesn't matter now." Melinda chirped, "...he's dead."

All jaws dropped into mashed potato and gravy. Aunt Sharon was about to reprimand Melinda when Ken [Melinda's dad] stood calmly from the table. He walked slowly into the kitchen. They all listened as the sound of his shoes descended the basement stairs. He returned moments later to report that Mike had hung himself.

Aunt Sharon never really forgave Melinda for that day... even though it was in no way Melinda's fault. It wasn't Melinda's fault that, after Mike's death, he visited only her. Perhaps he'd tried to reach his mother or his younger brothers, too. Perhaps they just couldn't see him like Melinda could. Who knows.

My thoughts turned again to her words, "...bring your Bible!" I looked at the passenger seat next to me where the Bible lay. What on earth would I do with it?

Although I'd studied religion in college, I'd never been Christian and had no idea where to look in it to find any kind of relevant material. But, I thought, I'm letting my imagination run away with me. How could I possibly know what would be relevant? I forced myself to clear my thoughts and finish out the remainder of my drive in peace.

I turned into the back alley and proceeded slowly, watching for children. I found the house address [a more difficult task from the alley], parked and switched off the engine. I sat for a moment, gazing at the back of the house... at the grey clouds and tall ancient trees reflected in the old wavy-glass windows. Although quiet, the house looked sinister to me.

I opened the car door and stood, ears straining to hear even the slightest noise, being answered only by the whisper of the wind through the leaves.

I made my way to the back porch, which looked terribly forlorn... the porch door swinging in the wind... the screens torn and twisted into grotesque shapes as if bodies had tried often to climb through them.

I heard Melinda scream... my heart skipped a beat. I held my breath, unmoving, for a few seconds. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but she sounded terrified.

I found my courage and bolted for the back door. As I grabbed the knob I peered through the window and saw a cup go flying by. I frantically turned the knob, it was locked.... but I'd long had a key. I fumbled with shaking fingers to unlock the door, all the while listening to things crashing and breaking and Melinda screaming.

I freed the lock and burst into the kitchen. I was met with sudden and obvious silence, as the sensation of eardrums recovering after a loud cymbal crash. Glass crunched under my feet.

"Melinda?" I said in a meek, shaking voice. "Oh Amber!!" she replied and ran from the living room into my arms. She bellowed, "Did you bring the Bible?" "Yes." I said, as I remembered I'd left it sitting on the front passenger seat. "What's this all about?" I inquired. Melinda pulled away from me, eyes huge as Wedgwood saucers. "What the..." I began, as I felt something break over my head.

I turned and saw the cupboard doors flinging open and shut, but not slamming, not making contact with the cabinet as they closed, nor the wall when they opened. The breeze from the flailing doors chilled the blood that began to drip down my forehead. Again, I was conscience of glass crunching underfoot. I looked down and saw a cup, just like the one I'd seen go flying past the windows when first I looked through the back door.

"Melinda," I asked in a stupor, "who threw that at me?" When I got no response, I turned towards her. She stood there, in the middle of the ample kitchen, turning in slow circles, looking at all the cabinet doors swinging madly, open/closed, open/closed.

I knew then why she wanted me to bring the Bible.

I tore at her arm, pulling sharply and shoving her out the back door, which I slammed and locked. Beyond the door I could hear crashing again.

As we climbed into the car, she had to move the Bible to sit down. "Why didn't you bring it in with you?"

"I forgot."

We rode away in silence... not knowing what else to say.

[ edit: added inspiration to post this recounting: www.abovetopsecret.com... ]


[edit on 7/10/07 by Amberlynne]

[edit: dang it my first edit never goes through argh]

[edit on 7/10/07 by Amberlynne]

[edit on 7/10/07 by Amberlynne]

Omigosh! You are quite a writer!
Hope that's not all of it. Your skills are much better than mine!
Maybe you should be my ghostwriter. I don't think anyone in Tampa's immediate family will be around long enough to write a book about her, or Hell House. Someone might as well, if they had all the facts.
I am serious. u2u me sometime.

[edit on 10/10/2007 by janasstar]

AmberLynne,

Please clarify if this is a work of fiction or an actual accounting? I ask only because it's a great story if it's fiction and a scary retelling if it was reality.

Please, do tell!

Cuhail

Amberlynne,
I left a link to your story here when I had the mods close Hell house, This story deserves a lot of attention!! Too bad I didn't get to link it before closing of lincoln co, witch. But I feel sure, everyone will find this story!

reply to post by janasstar


My apologies for delay in response. Work has been brutal as of late, and well, by the time I get home I'm loath to even look at a computer, let alone plant myself in front of one.

Thank you for the compliment Jstar! Very much appreciated. Though I strongly consider your writing to be ace!

I'm unable to u2u as I have fewer than 20 ATS posts. How's about you u2u me? Then I can share my email addys, as I check such frequently.

Yes, this story is entirely true ... not a work of fiction. Truth be told, it was penned many years after the actual event, which occurred in, if I recall correctly, autumn of 1983. I fear there are details I neglected to include, though I did my best in the retelling.

Melinda was my closest friend during my high school years. We experienced many creepy things in those years. I've since lost touch with her ... though I know she's still in Iowa (I now live in Minnesota). I'll see if I can locate her and get her side of the story.

Jstar, I look forward to hearing from you.

Wow that was a pretty unnerving story, i am sorry that happened to you. I would just like to say that if you want ot reconnect with your friend that is great, but I would defintely wait on the whole talking about this story for a bit, it sounds like it would be extremly traumatic to remember. Sometimes it is best to let sleeping dogs lie. I just had a question though what did she really think taking the Bible in with you was gonna do? honestly i don't see the entity really being all that moved by it, just my opinion.

Originally posted by Amberlynne
reply to post by janasstar

 

Yes, this story is entirely true ... not a work of fiction. Truth be told, it was penned many years after the actual event, which occurred in, if I recall correctly, autumn of 1983. I fear there are details I neglected to include, though I did my best in the retelling.

Jstar, I look forward to hearing from you.

Hi again,
Spent a week in hospital. Much better. Truly hope that you don't get the abuse and pure hatefulness from some readers, that I experienced; just trying to share your story. I love it so far. Keep writing Girl!! Can't wait.

reply to post by janasstar


Janasstar I just been reading your Hell house story an I'm coonfused...
I dunno if its just me being confused but it went from that to your sister to a witch to you having an arguement with someone and the thread being closed and... well I never got the end of the story about the house...
(very sorry about you sister and your brother by the way)

Maybe you could fill me in with the rest as I seem to have missed it?

That's some heavy **** right there. Any other stories you can relate would be awesome to hear. And I hope that contact can be made with Melinda...maybe there is more that has happened to her? Was there anything else that has happened in that house?