—The Long Night—
When I was younger, around ten years old or so, it was pretty common for a boy to stay home by himself. You do it today, and Child Services will get involved. Times were different then, though.
I remember one night that my dad got called into work. He worked for the power company, and if people reported their power out, dad would get called into work.
It was around 8 PM when dad got called into work.
Nobody else was home to stay with me, so dad had to leave me home alone. —Mom had gone somewhere with both my brothers.
Now, we lived in a house that would fit right into any scary movie you’ve ever seen.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, we were right next to the train tracks and woods—I was also well aware, from watching shows like “Unsolved Mysteries,” that there was a man who roamed the train tracks and killed anyone who came into contact with him.
It was a dark and windy night.
The wind blew the trees hard enough to make them “Creak” as they bent over. …And this ten-year-old got scared real quick.
In my mind, every sound I heard was caused by the “train track killer.” I convinced myself that he had made his way to our house.
I picked up the phone and dialed “0” for the operator.
Back then, the quickest way to call the police was to dial “0.”
“Operator, how can I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am, can you get me the Police, please?”
“One moment.”
“Police Department, how can I help you?”
“Yes, sir, is ‘Blackey’ workin’ tonight?” I asked.
“Blackey” was a police officer that most people in the town knew.
He was a nice guy, and I wasn’t scared to ask him to come and save me from the killer outside trying to get in the house to kill me. —In my mind, at least.
“He’s not in tonight.”
“Oh. Can you send someone out to check on me?”
Again, If this happened today, Child Services would probably get involved, but times were different back then.
“Sure. You mind telling me what’s wrong?”
“I think someone is in our basement.”
I gave them the address and waited for the police car to show up.
I remember holding my pellet gun in my hand—Fully loaded and pumped up six or seven times. It would have left a hefty welt on someone for sure.
The officer shows up, and I meet him in the driveway—Pellet gun in hand.
“You alone, son?”
“Yeah, dad works for the power company and got called out.”
“Oh yeah, a lot of lights are out tonight: the wind and all. It stormed not far from here.”
I was tired of talking about the minor stuff and wanted to get to the point. “I think somebody’s in our basement!”
“Is the basement door around back?”
“Yes, sir, can’t miss it.”
“Wait here, and I’ll go check it out.”
“Um, can I just follow you?”
“I’d rather you stay here. You’ll be fine.”
“Okay, sir.,” and I wait.
I remember popping off a shot into the woods to scare off anyone else who might be out there watching me.
I then pumped my pellet gun back up six or seven times. Again, enough to leave a good welt on anyone I had to shoot at.
The officer returns. “You’re safe and sound. Nothing in the basement. In fact, I checked all around, and you’re good.”
“Okay, thank you, sir. I feel better.” I didn’t, though, but I didn’t want to bother him anymore.
The officer gets in his car and drives off, and I go back inside.
The wind kicks up again within a few minutes, and the trees “Creak” as the trees bend over.
“Operator, how can I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am, can you get me the Police, please?”
—It was a long night.
