| Growing up, my mother told me many stories. She saved her best stories for the weekend when we would drive to a dairy in Gerber to get a couple gallons of fresh milk. We would go at night and she would wait with me and my sister in the dark car while my dad got the milk and chatted with the dairy farmer. My sister and I would be playing in the backseat and we would hear her start a story without being asked. "It was a night, just like this one." My sister would protest, "No, mom, don't tell us a scary story!" "Plug your ears. April wants to hear it, don't you?" I was scared of her stories, too...deliciously scared. "Yeah," I'd say, smirking like only a bratty younger sister can. "I want to hear it." And so she would tell the story and in the end, my sister would always listen, too appreciative of her storytelling skills to plug her ears. There was one story in particular that has always stayed with me. Here's the background and then I'll tell you what she said. When I was in the fifth grade, we lived in Weaverville for a year. One afternoon, our family went for drive in the mountains to look at some property. I cannot describe how beautiful it was. When turning onto the driveway, we felt like we were entering another world. The trees were the lushest green I have ever seen and the silence that was upon that place was like a curtain, shutting out the busyness of life. I was drawn to the abandoned two story farmhouse with its vintage lace still in the windows. Because it was locked, we peered through the windows the best we could. The wrap-around porch told of another era, and the creek running by the house was an eleven year old's dream. I followed it until I could no longer see the farmhouse. The excitement of finding an ancient cabin was almost too much to take. I wanted this property. My sister and I were prepared to do any amount of begging necessary to see that our parents bought this place with its acres and acres of potential. When it was time to leave, we started in...we wanted the house, we loved it. We told of the fun we would have playing near the creek and in the cabin. We had already made plans to use the cabin as our own little house. We pestered our parents for three days until my mom couldn't take it anymore. She sat us down. "We can't buy the house." Protests erupted but she raised her hand and stopped us. "I had the oddest sensation when we turned onto the driveway." This time, we both said, "No, mom, don't!" "I felt I had been there before. Everything seemed so familiar. The whole time we were there, I was so uneasy. I wanted to leave right away, but you girls were following the creek. By the time you returned, I was overcome with fear. I wanted to leave; I needed to leave. When it was finally time to get back in the car, I wondered what it was about the place that created such unease. As we turned down the driveway again, I felt compelled to look back one last time...and something caught my eye. On the second floor, the curtain moved. It moved and I saw the face of a very young girl...the girl I used to be. I looked up into my own youthful face, saw my panic, and watched my arms beating on the window, eyes begging for help. I saw the screams coming from my own mouth...I couldn't bear to look anymore. I had been here before. Some part of me remained, locked within. Oh, that I could tell the story as well as she did. That's my mom. She is the master. Ahh such great memories! Do you like stories? I've told my kids a few about these local houses. There's nothing better than parking your car in front of an abandoned house at dusk and telling your kids a scary story. |
| A story I've never forgotten... |
I love looking at old houses. Nothing would be better than being able to tour one of these places. The one on your right happens to be for sale. If you should be the one to buy it, please let me know...I'll be right over! |
This one is really small. It looks like it could have been a one room school house. I think this would be the ideal place to explore with a metal detector. I wonder if any treasure hunters have found anything interesting in the Red Bluff area by using a metal detector. If you know of anything, contact me. |
| They'll thank you for it later. Want to tell a good story? Tips from my mom: When looking at an older home, think about trap doors, attics, and trunks in closets. Maybe one of the floorboards are loose, and when you pry it up, you find a... |
| Have fun with your stories. Be creative! If you have a good story, do share it with me. Back to the Home Page at www.redbluffismytown.com |