Living in the Alley Essay
I am not as rich as all my other friends, or perhaps, new friends that I have made in my new neighbourhood - Living in the Alley Essay introduction. My other house was too expensive to stay in. Living at the end of a dark alley wasn’t the ideal place that I’d like to live in, not after hearing stories about getting robbed and beaten up by street kids twice the size of me. These stories repeated in my head, as if it were real, in every dream that I had since my mom told me that we were moving into this house.
So we moved in, bringing in our old furniture in the house that still had the name of the first owner of it, printed at the bottom, almost coming off, about 50 years old. I did not start to go to school yet and I wasn’t that anxious to either, but even though I didn’t, some boys from my neighbourhood came to say hello. They must have seen me when I was entering the alley in which my new house is located almost forty meters inside. The boys seemed very polite and well mannered.
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The boys were telling me about their other friends that they had in school and I always kept a smile on my face until they started telling their stories about this house. They said that the stories were true. These stories did not add to anything that would make me not afraid of this house. They told me never to come inside this from 2pm to 4pm. I asked them why. They just looked each other with their eyes wide open. One of them said, “Between 2 o’clock and 4 o’clock in the afternoon, hundreds of people have claimed to have seen human figures moving around the house.
Once they got close, the figures disappeared. So now everyone believes that this house is haunted, but the question is, haunted by whom? ” For a minute, I thought that my nerves just froze, but then I felt normal again. The boys said that they were not much worried about these apparitions. Then they looked at me, “are you afraid or somethin’? ” asked one of them. ” No… no, um- of course not. I’ve had -um, many problems like this before,” I replied. The last thing the boys said to me was “It’s more than just a problem.
Find out by doing what we told ya not to do. Then you’ll what we mean. Anyway, gotta go, C’ ya! ” I remembered these words through the whole of the first day of my new school. The School Finished at 2:50pm so I started my way home. I was standing at the entrance of the dark alley when the story flashed back and forth through my head. My mom works late and comes home at 10:30pm so I have to stay by myself in the house. I walked on, through the alley, past a pile of rubbish, then a public phone and now I was about 20 meters from my house.
It was 3:20pm. I started moving towards my house window as I saw human figures moving around the house. Then, I remembered the public phone that I passed on my way into the alley. When I picked it up, there was a voice saying something. I listened carefully, only to find out that it was a person, or something, speaking to me. It was saying: “don’t come home little boy, for your only goods! We don’t want you to get hurt.
You are afraid of ghosts aren’t you? You are afraid of everything! You can’t protect this house little boy… so don’t come home!!! I felt the sound of the voice go down my spine. I turned to run out of the alley, but then I saw something. There was a wire connected from the public phone to my house. I didn’t like what the voice said about me. All I know is that whatever was speaking to me, was speaking to me from my house and I’m going to prove to the person or thing if I can protect the house or not. So I went, disconnected the phone line. I maybe afraid of ghosts, but not everything! I lost my fear. I ran to the pile of rubbish, picked up a large piece of wood and quietly made my way to the house window.
I heard voices. Voices of human beings. Anger built up in me. I ran straight through the front door screaming with the piece of wood high in the air with my eyes almost closed. I started swinging the piece of wood in every direction until I heard a crack, then another, and then another, hearing the thumps of bodies falling on the ground shortly after each crack. I walked to the body of one of the street kids and put my foot on his chest, threatening him with comments that will haunt them for years. I don’t know how they came out of my mouth, but they just did.