Rites of Passage

t’s only an old farm house I told myself. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I swallowed my fear and continued the trek closer to the old house with my friends. Roger and Benny had been my best buddies since first grade. We did everything together. We went to the same school, church, and summer camps. Our parents even took us on many family vacations together. We were brave today, performing a local rite of passage into manhood, or at least adolescence. At only thirteen years old we were ready to challenge the Olsten Place.

The Olsten Place was the local haunted house. It was famous for murders, the disappearance of children, and the general insanity it brought upon anyone who dared broach it’s portals. None of this was proven, of course, but it was known to be fact by all the town’s children, and I think about half of the adults. I asked my Grandmother one time about the house and all the stories we had heard about it. She told me it was all childish nonsense, but I saw her face turn pale before she looked away. The house had stood empty for at least all of my life. It had probably been much longer. All I know is that someone in the past named Olsten owned it and that’s how it got its name. We knew of no one our age who had visited the Olsten Place. We would be the first, the pioneers of fear for our age group. There were horror stories the older kids told about their experiences going into the house. We knew, or hoped, they were just stories made up to scare the younger kids, or to cover up their own fear. I think it was the latter. I was having to swallow a gallon of my own fear just to approach the place. The sight of it gave me the willies.

The house itself was not that different from any other old farm house in the area. It was painted white, although many years ago. It was more of a dull gray color now. The windows were all broken out of the house long ago. Probably broken out by kids like us who had the nerve to get close, but not to enter, using the breaking of windows as a cover for their fear. It was a two story frame house. It had a covered front porch, fruit cellar, and an old out-house 30 yards from the back door. Like I said, it was no different than any other old farm house around town.

We approached the front porch, slowly, pushing each other forward, screaming boo, and grabbing ass to scare each other. A front acted out to cover our anxiety, putting on a macho image just to show each other we thought what we were doing was no big deal. We stand near the steps to the front porch. Roger pushed me toward the steps and said, "Go ahead, Puss."

"Screw you," I replied. "You go first."

"Let’s draw straws," Benny added. That sounded reasonable, so we agreed to it. Benny would pick out the straws, really sticks, and Roger and I would flip a coin for the first draw. Roger won the coin toss. He pulled the first stick slowly out of Benny’s grasp. It looked awful short so I gained confidence. I drew my stick and it was even shorter than Roger’s. My guts got kinda queasy all of sudden.

"OK, Benny, show us yours," I said. Praying to myself he had stuck himself with the shortest stick. He hadn’t. Mine was the shortest of the three. I would have to go into the house first, or look like a pussy in front of my two best friends.

I stared at the front steps, but hesitated. Benny and Roger both started pushing me from behind. "Go on chicken," Benny said. "You lost, get to it. Show us how tough you are."

"Kiss my ass, Benny," was my quick-witted retort. "I ain’t scared," but I still didn’t start toward the door.

Bwak, bwak, bwak, I heard behind me. Roger and Benny’s weak attempt at making chicken sounds. I gathered up my courage and mounted the front steps. I stopped at the screen door, that was all that was left, the main front door was missing. I looked back at Roger and Benny. They weren’t as smart-assed as they were a few minutes ago. I could see the fear in their eyes. They knew if I opened the door and went inside, they would have to follow, or I could hold it over them for the rest of their lives. They both looked like they were about to piss their pants.

I pushed on the screen door. It screeched like a Blue Jay mad at someone invading its territory. I cringed at the sound but managed to push it all the way open. I then took my first step into the haunted house. I turned and called out to Roger and Benny. "Come on, pussies, there’s nothing to it." They looked pale, but side by side they came toward me. I wished to hell they would hurry. I didn’t like being in there alone. They entered the door together, their eyes darting around, expecting a ghost to show themselves immediately.

"So what do we do now," Benny said.

"Let’s look around," Roger replied. Trying to act braver than he really felt. He walked to the middle of the front room, raised his face to the ceiling and howled, "Oooooh, I am the ghost of Mr. Olsten. I’ve come to take your head back to the grave with me." We all had a loud, but nervous, laugh at Roger’s impression of a ghost. It did seem to relax us a little bit.

"Let’s go upstairs," I said. That stopped Benny and Roger’s laughing immediately.

"Your idea, you go first," Said Benny.

"No problem, puss face," I kidded. "You guys just stay right behind me."

The steps were steep, narrow, and noisy. Every step I took sounded like a groan from the grave. Benny and Roger’s weight on the steps behind me sounded even more gruesome. We reached the top of the steps and gathered together in the first of the two small rooms upstairs. It was dark, even though the widows were all out and there were no curtains covering them. There was bird shit every where. Beer bottles and cigarette butts littered two of the corners of the room. "Do you think ghost drink and smoke," Benny giggled. "Maybe they are all laid up with a hang-over and that’s why they aren’t here."

"Very funny, butt-head, Roger replied. "You don’t even know what a hang-over is."

"Like hell I don’t," Said Benny. "I had one last summer after I stole that bottle of wine from my parent’s cellar and drank it."

"You dick head," said Roger. "You only had one glass. That isn’t nearly enough to cause a hang-over. You have to at least drink a twelve pack to get a hangover."

As Roger berated Benny with his vast knowledge of alcohol consumption, I saw something I could have a little fun with. I picked up a stick and flipped a flimsy sheath of latex at them that I had found on the floor, yelling as I did, "Look out!" They both dove out of the way, running into the walls as they dodged the missile. I busted out laughing watching scattering like bowling pins.

"What the hell was that," yelled Benny.

"Just a rubber, used at that, I found it on the floor," I told him.

"Gross," Said Roger. "Who in the hell would bring a girl up here to screw her."

"I would" Said Benny. "I’d screw a girl anywhere I got the chance."

"Yea," Roger chided Benny. "You know as much about screwing as you do drinking."

"Fuck you too," Benny shot back.

"Oooh," Mewed Roger. "Tough Guy"

"Tough enough to kick your ass anytime I wanted to," Said Benny.

"OK, Jerk-offs," I told them. "Let’s get back to what we’re doing here. Let’s check out the back room. Then we can leave."

Roger agreed as he slipped in one last "ass-hole" Benny’s way. Benny replied with a flying bird. Then we started toward the back room. It was darker than the room we were in. It was separated from the front room by a small hallway about 8 feet long. We crept along the beginning of the hall, huddled close enough to touch each other at all times. I was in the lead with Benny and Roger right on my ass.

I was about to take a step into the back room when all of sudden we all heard a horrendous howling. My heart slid into my throat, but my legs remembered what they were for. I turned to see Roger and Benny already taking off toward the stairs. We all flew around the banister, down the stairs and out the front door so fast I don’t remember seeing anything on the way out of the house. We must have ran a half-mile before stopping, not because we wanted to, we just ran out of air.

After catching my breath for a minute, I Said, "What in the hell was that."

"I don’t know," said Benny. "And I don’t really want to find out."

"Shit," Said Roger. "It was just an owl or something."

"If it was only an owl, then how come you ran too," said Benny.

"I ran just because you two pussies started running," Said Roger. "I would have stayed if it weren’t for you guys."

"Like hell you would have," I told Roger. "I was in front of you. When I turned around, you were already five steps ahead of me, running away."

"That’s just because puss-head here scared me when he jumped and took off," Roger replied.

"OK," I said. "We all ran. Just call it temporary insanity. It was probably nothing at all."

"True," said Benny. "But let’s just tell everyone at school how we made it to the back room upstairs in the Olsten Place. We don’t need to tell them about the quick exit."

"Agreed," replied Roger and I at the same time.

The next Monday at school we were looked on as heroes, at least in our own minds, and maybe a few of the girls. The other guys either ignored our exploits, or said they didn’t believe it. Roger, of course, started a big mess when he told Bob Carson to shove it. That he was a pussy that would never have the nerve to go into the Olsten Place. Of course this lead to a shoving match that Mrs. Bowman, our teacher, had to break up. She gave Bob and Roger detention for three days right on the spot. The verbal jabs didn’t end there, though. Bob kept calling Roger a lying puss. Roger couldn’t let well enough alone and said he could go inside the Olsten Place again anytime he wanted to. That was Roger’s biggest problem. He never knew when to keep his big mouth shut.

"If your so tough," Bob challenged Roger. "Why don’t you and your two tough buddies prove it to us."

"And how would we do that," Roger replied.

"I bet you pussies couldn’t spend a night in the Olsten Place," Bob said.

"Anytime," Roger shot back. "I’m not afraid of an old house."

"Then do it," Bob said. "Scott Pearson and I can sleep out in the field in front of the house and make sure you pansies don’t chicken out and make up stories about it this time."

"Anytime," Roger complied. "Just make sure you and Scott aren’t too scared to camp out that close. We would hate to hear you crying for your Mommy."

"You guys are going to be the ones crying," Said Bob. "I know you never went in the house to begin with. I know you won’t make it an hour in there without being scared shitless and running home."

"Name the time, Jerk-off," said Roger. "We aren’t scared." Without realizing it, Roger had just sealed our fate. There is no way he, or we, could back out of the challenge. I felt like kicking the shit out of him. It was bad enough being in the Olsten Place in broad daylight, let alone spending the night there. This would be our ultimate challenge. We would either come out of this looking like kings, or we would never live down the ribbing we would get from there on. Roger, you ass, I thought. Why the hell can’t you learn to keep your big mouth shut.

The plans were made for three weeks from this Saturday. I was nervous as hell. I thought Benny was going to shit bricks when he found out about it. There was no way out of it. We had been challenged. To back out now would be unthinkable, smart maybe, but still unthinkable. Roger, Benny, and I got together and made our plans. We decided what we would need to take with us, and what we could do without. I knew we were trying to make a big adventure out of it. Not one of us would bring up the fact that we were scared to death about the prospect of a night in the Olsten Place. It was easy to act brave, especially when the night of horrors was still weeks away.

I began to act more behaved at home. I knew I couldn’t tell my parents what we were up to. I hated lying to them about the upcoming camping trip we were going to make, but there was no way to explain the truth to them. I wanted them to remember me as a good son. I felt there was a good possibility I would never return from the night at the Olsten Place. I even considered writing a will, but then I couldn’t figure out anything I had that was worth leaving to anyone.

There was one advantage to our plight. Jenny Rawlings had been paying a lot of attention to me ever since she found out about our adventure. She must have thought I was brave to take on a night in the Olsten Place. I had liked Jenny ever since the third grade. She had always acted uppity toward me and would hardly ever look my way. If this changed her mind, maybe I could take advantage of it and get her to go to the movies with me. Like my Dad always tells me, there’s a bright side to everything. Maybe his corny old sayings really do mean something. I don’t think he would agree in this instance, though.

I did get to take Jenny to the movies. The movie really sucked, but I didn’t care. I had the best looking girl in school out on a date with me. The other guys were probably dying to be in my place. As far as I knew, none of them had even had a date before, let alone with the likes of Jenny. Jenny and I stopped for a soda at the burger stand on the way home. I felt like I was finally grown up. Jenny was my woman now. I knew I had made it. She even gave me a kiss when I walked her home. I was dying to try and rub her breast, but I couldn’t get up the nerve to do it. Jenny had given me courage to go through with our night in the Olsten Place. I knew if we failed, she would never look my way again.

The week before our adventure, Roger seemed to be doing well. Benny looked as if he was going to pass out all the time. I was afraid he would back out on us. Roger and I could do it by ourselves, but I would feel better about it if the three of us were doing it together. I told Benny not to worry. There is nothing out there but an old empty house. What we heard that first day was just an owl. You hear them all the time around here. Don’t let it get to you. Everything will be fine. Benny seemed to believe me. I think I even saw a little color come back to his face. I wish I could make myself believe the line of shit I was feeding Benny.

Friday, before the Saturday of our sleep-over, Bob Carson came up to us and asked, "You pussies ready?"

"We’ve been ready, dick-head," I replied. "We’ve been there before. We know what it’s like. You sure you can handle sleeping out that close by?"

"We won’t have to stay long," Bob said. "I know you guys won’t last an hour after dark in there."

"Don’t worry about us," Roger piped in. "Make sure you bring a cell phone along to call your Mommy when you get scared."

"We will see who needs a cell phone," Roger said. "If you guys really last the night you will need a cell phone for your padded cell. Get it, cell phone." he giggled.

"Very funny ass-hole. That’s about as funny as your face," I told him.

"Yea, fuck off, Bob," chimed in Benny. I was impressed. Benny seemed to be getting into the spirit of things.

The afternoon before the night in the house was here. I felt sick, and really wished I was. I would love a good case of flu to hit me right now, anything to get me out of tonight. It was already 3 o’clock. We were supposed to meet at the burger stand at seven. I started getting my gear together, trying to take my mind off what I was about to do. I made sure I had twice as many batteries for the flashlight as I needed, and extra fuel for the gas lantern too. If there was one thing I didn’t want to happen was to be left in total darkness inside that house. I called Roger and Benny a little after 5 o’clock. Roger said he was raring to go, Benny sounded like he could barely speak, but still agreed to meet us at the burger stand on time.

I arrived a few minutes before 7 o’clock. No one else had arrived. I hoped that Bob or Scott had gotten sick or their parents had forbid them to go camping. That would make it easy for us to back out. A few minutes later I saw them both walking up the street carrying their camping gear looking like they were having a fine time. Roger and Benny both arrived a few minutes later. Bob said, "You sure you pussies don’t want to back out now?"

"You wish," Roger replied. "Your just hoping we would so you wouldn’t have to camp out that close."

"I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you," said Scott.

"I would," Said Benny. "How about ten bucks a guy?" Benny was really starting to impress me now. How could this pansy, though friend, that I had known all my life be acting so brave. It amazed me how he was taking it. I was beginning to think I was more afraid than Benny.

"Get ready to pay up," chortled Bob. "This will be the easiest $30.00 we ever made, right, Scott?"

"You got that right," sneered Scott. Scott always was a little weasel. I had know him from the first grade and had never found one thing I remotely liked about him. He sucked at sports, was stupid in school, and was an all around "A" number one ass-hole. He thought he was cool just because his Daddy was on the City Counsel. I knew better. My Dad was on the Counsel too, and came home after every meeting complaining about what an ass Scott’s Dad was. It must run in the family.

"It’s a bet then," I said. "You ass-holes better have the money in the morning."

We all hiked to the Olsten place, or rather the field in front of it. We hung around while Bob and Scott set up their tent. They had gotten quiet. I think they had begun to worry that we were actually going to go through with it. Either that or they were getting scared themselves. Either way, I was starting to enjoy their nervousness. It was only an hour before dark. I told Roger and Benny we had better get going so we would have time to set our things up. They both agreed. We marched off acting bravely toward the challenge of the Olsten Place. Bob and Scott didn’t say a word. They stood there watching us march off to the house. I think by now they really were more scared than we were.

We arrived at the front of the house, paused only for a moment, and walked right in. It wouldn’t have looked good if we had been afraid to go right in. Once inside, my guts started turning in knots. It already seemed to dark inside. It felt like the walls were edging in, wanting to cut off all of the air inside the house. I took a big breath, put on a face of courage and told Benny and Roger, "Well, we’re here, let’s get set up." We lay our sleeping bags out side by side in the front room. I set the lantern up and got it started even though it would still be light out for another half-hour or so. We tried to show no fear to each other, though it was difficult. As night drew near I thought it would be a good idea to bring out the food. I had brought an ample supply of Bologna, cheese, and bread. Roger had brought chips and soda. Benny, to our surprise, pulled out a six pack of Coors from his back-pack. "Wow!" I whooped. "How in the hell did you manage that?"

"My dad buys cases of it at a time," Benny replied. "He won’t miss one six pack." This may not be that bad of night after all. Good eats, good friends, and Coors. Hell, we could make a commercial out of this.

We settled in after our meal, relaxing with our Coors. This was the life. It was just like Dad was when he got home from the office at night. Eating good and having a few beers, it doesn’t get any better than this. OOP’s, wrong beer. We started having some fun after the beer was gone, making howling noises and screaming like we were being skinned alive. We hoped the screams were loud enough to scare the hell out of Bob and Scott. This was better than I had ever imagined it could be. I wasn’t scared at all. Then we got tired. Fooling around like we had been made us forget where we were. The thought of going to sleep in the house put a whole new face on the situation.

The night was already half over when we agreed to try and go to sleep. None of us had brought a watch, so we were just guessing the time. We climbed into the sleeping bags, turned the lantern down a bit, but not off, and tried to sleep. We found sleep was almost impossible. The night had gone well, but it was too quiet now. The old house groaned and creaked in every way imaginable. Each movement of the old place sounded like a demon crying out for our souls. Many of the noises seemed to emanate from the upstairs, where we had not ventured tonight. There were too many memories associated with whatever was up there. Together we could get by, downstairs, huddled against the fear that was growing in all three of us. We stayed awake talking about girls, teachers we hated, and our parents stupid rules. All done just to pass the time and to quell our fears.

Before too long I saw a change in the sky through the window. It was getting lighter. There was a gentle shift from deep black to having just a tinge of blue to it. We had made it I thought, so tired from the lack of sleep, but excited from the triumphant task we had completed. We would live in fame, and be $20.00 richer to boot. We had grown overnight from small scared boys into men, ready to take on the world.

As dawn broke into its full glory we ran out of the house, knowing we had succeeded. We were in a rush to rub our success Bob and Scott’s noses. We ran all the way to their campsite. There we found more fear than we had the entire previous evening. Bob and Scott were still in their tent. They wouldn’t come out, or answer us. As a joke, we grabbed the end of their tent and pulled it off of them, stakes and all. Then we found what fear really was. There they lie. They were stiff, white-haired, and dead.

There was an uproar in the town. The townspeople wanted to know what could have happened to the two small boys. Roger, Benny and I had to explain to our parents, and to the police what we had been doing out there all night. I felt bad about Bob and Scott, but I knew we had nothing to do with their deaths. There was no explanation from any corner on how the two young boys could have died while camping out. The paper graciously didn’t report that the three of us had been sleeping in the Olsten Place on a bet with the other two boys. The glorious feeling of being a man the morning after we had stayed in the Olsten Place died quickly. To see the death of two boys our own age was more than we could handle. We had assumed we were invincible after that night We found out quickly we were wrong. Roger’s, Benny’s, and my friendship deteriorated from that day on. I think being close to each other reminded us of the horror of that night. It was a small town. We couldn’t totally avoid each other, but it was never the same between us. Roger moved away with his parents a few years later. Benny kept to himself, withdrawn, not only from me, but from everyone. Benny killed himself when we were juniors in high school. I hadn’t talked to him in over two years. I will always wonder if the last night we spent together was what caused him to commit suicide.

Years later in college I became a journalism major. I learned how to investigate stories from past records. The traumatic experience of that night had always stayed with me through the years. It came back in dreams, both at night, and during the day. I decided to investigate the past of the Olsten Place. Maybe I could find something that would relieve the fear I still held inside my mind.

What I found shook me to the depths of my soul. When we were young we had all heard the stories of murders and of ghost at the Olsten Place. They were fearful, wild stories that all children make up about abandoned houses in their neighborhoods. It is fun, frightening, like Halloween, but more real. Most of these stories are just that, stories, made from the over imaginative minds of young children. I found during my research that not all of the stories about the Olsten Place were made up. The house really did have a sordid history. It seems back in 1935, long before I was born, there was a farmer named Olsten who owned the farm. He had gotten into financial trouble and was having a hard time making payments on his debts. The people interviewed at the time said he was a proud man, not one that would ask for help from family, friends or neighbors. The type of man that kept everything inside. The type of man who eventually explodes from the pressures inside his own mind. Olsten’s mind did explode. He considered his life a failure, and didn’t want it to continue, but he couldn’t bear the thought of his family going on without him, knowing he had forsaken them. He decided it was best to take them with him, to a new life that had to be better than the one they lived in now. Olsten followed his thoughts through with action. He murdered his wife and two children, and then committed suicide. It was a tragic end to a wasted life. It was no wonder why the rumors and innuendo exist about the Olsten Place. If only we had known the truth about the house when we were young. Grandmother must have known. It’s why she turned pale when I asked her about it. God, why hadn’t she told me? We would have never attempted to do what we had done.

Olsten did commit the murders we had heard about. He had taken his family from their home. He murdered them all, buried them, and then committed suicide. Little did we know, all of this horror took place in the field, just in front of the Olsten Place.