Petey (Part 1)

Part 2: [agnostic.com]

© 2009, RWS All Rights Reserved

Do I know any ghost stories? No, no ghost stories. But let me tell you about a couple of boys: Petey, and my friend Larry.

It was 1952, and I was eight, I lived on Grand. The week before the start of football, and I went over to Larry's. He lived on Forest, one block over from me. Larry was 8 too and we were best friends.

I went to play ball with him and some friends. Larry was the only one there. We were throwing the ball around in Larry's front yard when I saw a boy staring at us.. He was standing on the front porch of the old Johnson house. I came to find out later that that boy was Petey.

I told Larry that a boy was watching us. “Yeah,” he said. “I saw him. He’s been hanging around for about a week now. First time I‘ve seen him on the porch, though.”

Petey had light blonde hair and was very pale. He was wearing a striped polo shirt and navy blue shorts. I couldn't tell how old he was. But, he looked younger than Larry and me.

He stood there for a while, watching us. He didn't say anything and neither did we. The next time I looked, Petey was gone.

“He’s probably watching us from one of the upstairs windows. I’ve seen him watching me from there before.”

“Where,” I asked, tossing the ball to my left.

Larry ran to catch it. Stopped, and said, “The old Johnson house. Upstairs. The end window on the right.” He threw the ball back to me.

"No way," I told him. "No one has lived in the Johnson house for a hundred years. He probably lives on 13th Street. A new family moved in last month."

To us, the Johnson house was really ancient. It was covered with bare ivy vines. The house was two stories and had a basement, a turret, gables and lots of windows. It had a big old front porch and a large front door. The front door and all the first floor windows were boarded up. There were lots of dead weeds in the yard too. Nothing seemed to grow in the yard at all.

The paint was all worn off and the wood was gray and weathered. The windows that weren’t boarded up were all cloudy and dirty; some cracked or broken. It looked like the house had been dead a very long time..

“Look at it,” I said. “No one would want to live THERE!” We had both turned to look at the house when I heard my Mom calling me.

"Jimmmmmmmmmmmmmmmy, Dinnnnnnnnnnnnnner!"

"Okaaaay Maaaaaa!" I yelled back. "Gotta go, Larry," I yelled over my shoulder as I started to run home. Then, I stopped, turned around and, as I drew my index finger across my throat in a cutting motion, said "Besides, who wants to live in a house where 7 people were murdered?:"

I ran home, laughing.

For us kids, it was gospel truth that 7 people had been murdered in that house. And, of course, we all knew that the killer still lived there, in a house haunted by seven ghosts. Probably lived in the basement, waiting for one of us to come too close. None of us would go near it. If I had to walk by it, I would cross to the other side of the street first.

At dinner that night, I asked, "Dad, were 7 people really murdered in the old Johnson House?"

"Tommy. Not at the dinner table," Ma said.

Dad replied, "Marion, it's all right. Let the boy ask."

He turned to me. "Tommy, no, no one killed seven people in the Johnson house. In fact, no one was murdered at the Johnson house.”

“What happened then?” Why does everyone think that seven people were murdered there?”

“Well, Tom, sometimes people like to believe the worst. Sometimes, they like to believe all sorts of rumors and they will take bits of truth and blow them up into something big and scary. Even when it isn’t true.”

“Why? What happened there,” I asked, looking carefully at Mom to see if she would object.

Dad looked at Mom. She shrugged her shoulders and just nodded her head.

“Well, Tom, there was a family named Johnson that lived in the house about 30 years ago. They had two children, a boy and a girl. The boy was nine. His sister was 5. The Johnsons had been over to see some neighbors who were sick. When they came home, their kids were in their rooms, asleep.

“No one knows how or why,” Dad continued, “but, the next morning, when they went to get both children up, they found them in bed Dead. Sometime, during the night or early morning, they died. They never did find out why or how.”

"Why doesn't anyone live there now, Dad?"

“The Johnson's moved. They didn’t want to live in the house any more. Living in a house where their children had died made them sad.”

Mom added, “That's what happened, Tommy. End of story.”

“Mom. Has the house been empty since then?”

Mom laughed and smiled, briefly. “Of course not. Several families have lived there.”

“Well, why doesn’t anyone live there now?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It was a very nice house.”

I asked, “How long has it been since any one lived there?”

“Look Mr. Nosy. That is the last question we are going to answer about the Johnson house. Okay?”

“But, …”

“I said last question. Okay?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Mom looked over at Dad. I looked at him too.

“Well, Tommy, after the Johnsons moved, it was bought by another couple, who lived there for about a year. They moved. Then another couple bought the house. After that, it was sold and bought a couple of more times. I don’t know why any of them moved. Or where they went. They probably just did not like the house is all. No one has lived there in about 20 years.”

All excited, like I had found a treasure, I blurted out, “I bet the house is haunted by ghosts. It’s haunted isn’t it, Dad?”

“No, son. There aren’t any ghosts and the house is not haunted. Now, no more questions.”

"But Dad ..."

"Don't but your Dad, dear. We both said, ‘no more questions.’"

"OKaaaaaaay, mooooooom.”

“Now, see Hubert,” she said to my Dad, “You have the boy all excited and worried about ghosts. He won't sleep a wink tonight."

"I'm OK Mom." I wasn't really. But, I wasn't going tell her and look like a little boy.

Later that night, while I was in bed, I heard my parents talking in that low kind of voice we parents use when they don't want you to hear. "Hubert," Mom said. "I just don't believe you. How could you tell Tommy about THAT. You know how impressionable children are."

"Marion, we shouldn't shelter kids from everything. They need to know that life is not all a bowl of cherries. It won't hurt the boy to know that people die. Even kids. Besides, he seems fine. Didn't appear to be worried in the least."

"Well, at least you didn't tell him that the Johnson's children were both murdered. I heard someone broke in through their windows, butchered them and that there wasn’t a drop of blood left in either of them."

"Marion. You don't believe that crap do you? It was probably nothing more than they didn't find any blood, not that there wasn't any blood at all. The police never released any details. It just isn't possible to drain all blood from a body and not leave any evidence.

“Besides, I talked to Vic Timms before he died last year. He was the Johnson’s neighbor. He told me that none of the windows were broken. They were just open and a bit of ivy had been pulled into the their rooms. The kids probably left the windows open for fresh air. And, you know how fast ivy grows.”

I didn't hear anything more after that. The news came on and they quit talking.

I spent a lot of time over at Larry's the next couple of weeks. Each time Larry and I were playing, Petey stood on the porch of the Johnson house or on the sidewalk in front and watched. He never said anything. We hollered over and asked him if he wanted to join us. He would just shake his head no and continue to watch. We both thought he was strange.

About that time, I started having the dreams. Not nightmares. Larry had them too he said. His were a lot like mine. Strange dreams. I did not have them every night. But, when I did, the dreams would last all night. At first, they were ok... just kids playing. But, then….

I would dream about Petey and the Johnson house and playing in front. Petey was always in the dreams, standing and watching. So was Larry and some of the other kids from the neighborhood. All of us, except Petey, would be playing, something like tag, or kick the can, sometimes football.

Just after school started, I saw Petey again. A bunch of us were playing football in Larry's front yard. Suddenly, Petey was right there, on the sidewalk in front of Larry’s house. That was the closest I had ever been to him.

He was wearing a polo shirt and navy shorts. Petey was really pale, like he was cold or something. His skin was pale and his eyes were a pale blue. His lips were bluish too. It was like he stayed inside all the time and never got any sun, like the rest of us. I shivered just a bit when he looked back at me with those pale eyes of his.

Larry said "Hey, what’s your name. My name is Larry. This is Tommy, and …," Larry went on and named the rest of the kids in the front yard.

Petey said "Hey" back. “Name’s Petey. Mind if I watch?” Petey’s voice was soft and flat. He didn’t smile either. Just looked sad.

"Wanna play instead?” said Larry. “We could use an extra to even up the sides.”

"No. Just watch." was Petey's reply. Probably a good thing too, when I think back on it. We played rough and he looked like he would break if we tackled him hard.

So, Petey stood and watched most of the game. When we finished, I looked for him. But, he was gone. "Hey guys!? Did y’all see where Petey went?" I asked.

"Noooo," said Larry. No one else said anything.

After that, Petey would come across the street and stand there anytime a bunch of us were playing ball. He never said anything. Never played with us. Just stood there, all sad looking. And, he always disappeared without any of us seeing where he went.

Around the first of October, the dreams started to get scary. They started out the same way as before, with us playing and Petey watching. Then, Petey would start asking us to come over to the Johnson house. He said it was a great place to play hide and seek because the yard was bigger and there were all sorts of places we could hide and be hard to find. I don’t know how, but suddenly, I would be on the Johnson porch, going inside. Then, I would be running around in the halls. It was a maze -- with lots of dark corners and other places to hide. And there were big spider webs and strange things on the walls, furniture with sheets all over and lots odd noises – like little animals scurrying in the dark. Finally, I would get scared and start to leave. I looked for Larry so we could go, but couldn't find Larry, and I couldn’t find my way out either. Finally, I would wake up -- tangled in my sheets – sweating. My hair was wet and I would be breathing hard. It was morning. I was relieved that I was still in my room.

Larry had the same dreams. Except, he would be looking for me and his little brother, Bobby.

In early October, I saw Petey again. Larry told me that Petey had been over talking to him a couple of times, trying to get him to go over and play at the Johnson house. Larry wouldn’t do it and I knew he was thinking of the dreams we both had.

Anyway, I had gone over to Larry's to see if he could come over to play. He couldn’t. He had to watch his brother, Bobby, who was three, playing in the dirt by the front porch. Larry and I were talking when I saw Petey crossing the street. He looked like he was coming from the Johnson house. But, I knew that wasn't possible. No one lived there.

"Here," Larry hollered. "Catch!" He tossed the ball to him. For a brief moment, it seemed to go right through his fingers. But, then, the ball seemed to stick to his hands.

Petey said “Hey,” and handed the ball back to Larry. Then, he walked over to Bobby and sat down next to him. Larry threw the ball to me and we tossed the ball back and forth in Larry's front yard and talked about the Vols and how we knew they would win another championship, even though Neyland was not coaching any more.

Petey sat and played in the dirt with Bobby.

Eventually, Larry and Bobby went in to dinner. I headed home. Petey left too. We were walking across the yard, to the sidewalk when I turned to ask Petey a question; he was gone. I hadn't even noticed him walking away.

Part 2: [agnostic.com]