The Spook Hole

When I was a kid, I was a big fan of horror movies. Well, specifically, TV horror movies. I was too young to get into most of the theater kind. But there was always an old scary movie on TV. Saturday nights were the best, because it was the night for "Creature Features" and "Chiller Theater". I'll always remember "Creature Features", who's opening showcased a 6 fingered, disembodied hand reaching up from the swamp, and somehow, being able to utter one word "Chillleer!" (Cool trick, not having a mouth and all...), before retreating whence it had come. Classics like "The Crawling Eye", "The Brain From Planet Arouse", "The Manster" or the every popular "Them!" ran over and over again, and filled my brain with creepy images. They even sometimes gave me nightmares. Yet for some demented reason, I loved every one of them. I liked being creeped out, I guess. My imagination seemed to run in that direction. But was my everyday real life devoid of such thrills and chills? Nope–in my real life I had “The Spook Hole”.

Let me explain. As I've mentioned before, my apartment building was fairly old; originally built in the 1920s. Back in those days it was a fairly fancy place, and I would guess the building had a staff of a few caretakers. It follows that there were naturally parts of the building that were used solely by that staff and for those reasons, some parts of the building. – In the basement especially ­– were forbidden to us. Locked gates and NO TRESPASSING signs were everywhere down there. Actually, only a small portion of the basement was accessible to the tenants. The vast majority of that subterranean labyrinth was locked and shuttered. That made excellent fodder for a sick imagination like mine.

There is a certain sense of justification that comes from growing up in that type of place. I mean, you just don't live there, as a kid it's yours. You own it – all parts of it. NO TRESPASSING? Ha! They've got a lot of nerve! I'll go wherever I want. That is, I COULD, if I wanted to... and that was the problem. Some parts of that basement looked downright eerie. Black tunnels to who-knows-where, locked rooms with grey, cracked wooden doors that permitted slivers of dim light to escape under them. Broken cement floors that were abruptly partitioned by various forms of plywood, chain linked fences and wrought iron gates.

And on almost every wall, at every turn, was the faded black and orange triangle in a circle sign with the CD (Civil Defense) symbol in the center, with an arrow informing you that the "Public Defense Shelter" was THIS way. It was a happy thought that when the atom bombs came, this was the "safe" place to be. Even as a naive kid, I know I said to myself "bomb shelter... down here... very safe, yeah, sure." All that cracked concrete and plywood would serve as an excellent barrier to the horror of an atomic blast, I thought, “right.”

I remember once, when I was down in the basement laundry room with my mother, I noticed one of those forbidden doors that were always kept shuttered had, for some reason, been left unlocked, just slightly ajar. Taking a chance, I pushed it open all the way, and peered into the darkness beyond. The lights from the laundry room gave just enough illumination to be able to see towards the back wall. There, water stained, sat several boxes labeled "Survival Supplies – Civil Defense Survival Ration Crackers", and others labeled "Carbohydrate Supplement". There were also barrels labeled "Sanitation Kits". I'm not sure what THOSE would be used for, but I could hazard a disgusting guess, noting the absence of any toilets in the area. Some of the boxes had been chewed on, ripped apart really, and since I was not in any hurry to find out by whom, I quickly pulled the door back to where I found it. I shook my head. If the Department of Civil Defense had given me a sense of security before, I REALLY felt “sheltered" now.

Suffice to say, the basement and its various chambers were fascinating to me. What WAS behind that locked door? Where DID that tunnel lead? My friends and I spent a lot of our time using our imagination to answer those questions, and often leaning in the "horror movie" direction. Of course that could make things quite interesting, because some of those places were the spots where we would play.

One of them was in the building's backyard. The building's structure was basically three sides of a square, and the backyard filled the space in the middle. 6 stories loomed around us on 3 sides. There we would play Stickball, Tag, Kick-The-Can, Ring A Levio, Red Light, Green Light 1-2-3, and Hide and Seek. A couple of those necessitated looking for dark places to hide in and around the building. Alcoves, doorways, tunnels, and crawl spaces were all fair game.

Etched in my memory for all time is one particular game of Hide and Seek. I believe it happened during the first summer when my parents said it was okay to play outside without their supervision. I felt very grown-up.

My friend Eddie was over visiting. We were in the backyard, joining several of my neighbors. My building had several families with kids who went to the same school as Eddie and I (St. Michael's). Someone suggested a game of Hide and Seek, and we decided to join in. Our neighbor, Patty, covered her eyes and faced the backyard brick wall, and began counting to 100. We all scattered in different directions. I ran around the side of the building were it was attached to another apartment building next door. There I saw a staircase, leading down to a dark tunnel.

This would be the first time I dared to venture there. I'd seen it, of course, when I was younger, but my mom would always warn me, "Stay away from there, you'll get all dirty, that's not a place to play." But she wasn't here now, was she? Not knowing where it came out at the other end, at first I hesitated. But I could hear Patty counting to 100, and getting close. So down the staircase I went.

The tunnel was dark, narrow, and damp. The walls almost seemed to sweat, and the sounds of my sneakers on asphalt echoed loudly. I noticed that the temperature had suddenly dropped, like entering a cave. There was no indication that any light had ever been installed its entire length, and I immediately decided that I would never go down there at night, it was creepy enough in the daytime. My eyes had not yet gotten used to the dark, it had been a bright and sunny day before I had ventured into the tunnel. To keep my footing, I kept my hand against the right wall as I walked. Half way down the tunnel, I jumped, not realizing that an old wooden door had interrupted the wet bricks. Naturally, being the “curious George” that I was, I tried the doorknob. It didn't turn, the door was locked shut.

My eyes were starting to get used to the darkness, because now I could start to make out some details. I noticed that there was a small window next to the door; on it's far side. It was the type of window that would tilt open, but from the look of it, it had been painted shut years ago. It was glazed with wire-embedded glass, and was dirty, like it hadn't been cleaned in ages, if ever. I pressed my face against it, cupping my hands on both sides to block what little light there was in the tunnel, but could see nothing.

I continued down the tunnel to its end, where there was another staircase leading up, in worse shape than the first one. I climbed them but I was careful, as some of the steps were partly broken off. They led to a tight airshaft, a dead end. Windows looked down from three sides, and on the fourth side did a bent chain link fence on top of a 4-foot cement wall. If you climbed over that, I could see you'd be on the property of the apartment building next door.

Although it was a sunny day, the light had a difficult time making it down the shaft, so I was mostly in the shadows. This seemed as good a place to hide as any. I sat myself down on the ground and waited.

The wind whistled down the shaft, like a low sad moan. Off in the distance I could hear someone's TV, and the "wiff-wiff" sound of pigeon wings as they bounced around on various ledges above me. I'd like to say I made myself comfortable, but that would be untrue, because I wasn't. The cement ground was cold, and I was cold, and seemed to be getting colder. I wrapped my arms around myself, but that didn't seem to help. I wasn't long before I started to rethink my hiding place.

It wasn't just the cold, however... something else felt wrong. I realized that the hair on the back of my neck was standing up, and I had goose bumps. Was I THAT cold, I thought, how could I be this cold, it's summer?! I felt more and more uneasy, like this was a dangerous place to be, which I KNEW was ridiculous. A cloud must have crossed in front of the sun, because suddenly it became much darker. A pigeon suddenly dive-bombed in my direction, just missing my head. I squealed, just a little bit, with fright, and the sound of my own voice scared me. That was enough; I was out of there.

I got up quietly, and turned to go back down the tunnel, making sure my steps were as silent as possible. Down the broken steps I went, back into the darkness, staying close to the wall. After all, if the game was still afoot, I didn't want to get caught. It was then, standing in the middle of the dark tunnel, that I heard it... A low, deep voice, that seemed to come from all around me, growling "YOU! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!!" My eyes grew wide, and I froze. Then, louder and angrier... "MOVE"!" And oh boy, did I do just that, as fast as my feet could carry me. I blindly fell up the steps and tore around the side of the building right into Eddie, who was looking for me. We collided, and both fell to the ground.

"Ow!" yelled Eddie, "What the hell are you..." but he never got to finish, because I scrambled myself back to my feet and headed for the street. I was getting the hell out of there, just as instructed, you bet.

I only stopped after I plopped myself down on a bench in the little playground of the building across the street. My heart was pounding like a trip hammer; I was almost dizzy from fright. Eddie followed me into the playground, looking confused and concerned.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

I tried to answer but my mouth was so dry that nothing came out. I raised my hand, as if to hold off his question, and swallowed to get my voice back.

"Finally, I spoke. "I think... I think..., I think I just heard a ghost...., and it YELLED at me to get out!", I explained.

"What?” questioned Eddie, "What are you talking about?"

It was then that I told him the whole story–the cold, the moaning sounds, the goose bumps, the sudden darkness, the attack pigeon, the disembodied voice commanding me. He listened intently. He sat silently for a minute, pondering, and then he nodded.

"Sure sounds like a ghost to me,” he stated, in full agreement of my proposition. For a moment, we both sat in silence.

Then Eddie asked a question that had never occurred to me–"Who do you think it was?" he asked.

I thought for a second, and then it came to me in a flash. "Oh, I KNOW who it was...” I stated with complete certainty. "It was Mr. Laney. I recognized his voice, for sure!"

Mr. Laney had been the superintendent for our building when I was very little, and he had died several years ago. I heard his daughter had found him in his apartment when she couldn't get him on the phone. His apartment had been where the super's apartment always was: in the basement, right around the corner from the tunnel.

"Oh man, that makes sense!” Eddie exclaimed. "He's still looking out for the building!"

And so it was decided. The tunnel was haunted, for sure. From that day on it was always referred to in its proper name: The Spook Hole.

"So what do we do now?" Eddie asked.

"Do? Do what? I'm not going back down there, no way!" I exclaimed.

"No, come on, we HAVE to. We have to check it out, to be sure!" stated Eddie.

"I don't know..." I said, "Maybe we should just leave it alone, out of... respect” I muttered, but even I didn't buy that line.

"I guess so, but... Come on! A real ghost! Here! "We've GOT to check it out, right?" asked Eddie.

Much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right. We had to check it out. I mean... this was Creature Features, right HERE, right in my backyard. Come on! How could we not?

It was decided that we would check it out the next day. That was a Sunday, so we figured that might be a good ghost-hunting day. We would make sure we'd be safe by praying extra hard at church that morning that the ghost wouldn't kill us, or worse.

After mass, Eddie went home to change out of his Sunday clothes and into something more suited for the task at hand. I did the same, with plans for Eddie to meet me back at my apartment around 3 p.m.

At home, I got some supplies together, out of the watchful eyes of my mom. I grabbed a little bottle of holy water, sent from my aunt in Ireland for my family, and I put a set of rosary beads I had gotten for my first holy communion around my neck, under my shirt. I grabbed my sister's set for Eddie. All this was done in complete secrecy, knowing full well that if my mom or dad knew my plans, I'D be the ghost haunting The Spook Hole.

All too soon it was coming on 2:45 p.m., and thus fortified for battle, I told my folks I was going out to play. After getting an okay, I went out to the hallway, to wait on the roof steps for Eddie.

Eddie came off the elevator, right on time. As soon as I heard the door squeak open, I jumped up to meet him.

"You ready?” he asked.

"Yeah", I answered. "I've even got stuff, for protection," I said, and showed him the holy water and rosary beads. "These are for you,” I stated as I handed him my sister's set.

"Good idea!" Eddie exclaimed, “You can’t be too safe. This should protect us, for sure."

Eddie put on the rosary beads, and tucked them under his shirt. It would not do for any of my neighbors to see us wearing them in such a way; surely it would get back to my mom.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I guess so..." I mumbled. I was still not so sure this was such a good idea, but the die was cast.

We bounded down the 6 floors of stairs; we almost never took the elevator down. It was always more fun to make as much noise as possible. In the lobby, we took one look around. No one was waiting for the elevator or coming in, good. We'd rather not have anyone question where we were going. We went out the back door, and into the back courtyard.

The first thing I noticed was it had gotten a lot darker since this morning. Oh GREAT, I sarcastically thought, just what I wanted. The tunnel was dark on a SUNNY day. This should be peachy. I looked at Eddie. I think he was thinking the same thing, but of course neither of us said a word. With a nod from Eddie, we walked around the side of the building, and there it was: The Spook Hole.

"How do we do this?" I asked.

"I guess we just go in and see what happens," Eddie stated. Seemed easy enough, but neither one of us moved.

Finally Eddie started toward the steps down to the tunnel. I followed, feeling for my rosary beads under my shirt, gathering strength from my armaments, and then down the steps we went.

It WAS dark, darker than I remembered. "Don't forget about the door, and the window," I whispered to Eddie.

Eddie squinted a little. "I see them," he whispered back. As we got closer, we stopped. The window had a light coming from it. It had been completely dark the last time I was here. The light, however, gave no illumination to the tunnel– it was very dim because of the caked dirt on the window. We looked at each other, and both knew – we HAD to see what was in there.

Carefully, we stepped slowly and lightly past the wooden door. No matter how hard we tried, the crunching sound the broken concrete floor made echoed in the tunnel, and we winced as we stepped. Finally, we both made it to the window. Standing next to each other, we pressed our faces against the dirty glass.

Inside you could make out pipes, a couple of large valve handles, and what look like a wooden work bench, scattered with various tools. A single light bulb hung from a cord with a pull chain, slightly rocking in a pendulum. Then Eddie pointed to the right of the light, just behind it. It was only visible as the light rocked in that direction. It was a body, hanging from a ceiling pipe.

Eddie mimed silently with his mouth, and I lip-read as he said "DO YOU SEE THAT?" I nodded very fast back at him. The body was dressed in a grey cover-all, hanging very limply. it must have been too big for the person inside, because I was not sure I could see any hands, let alone feet. Between the bad lighting and the dirty window, it was hard to see. But that was a body, we were both sure of it. We were still trying to recover from the shock of uncovering a murder when suddenly, a shadow crossed the window on the inside. Someone, or something, was in there.

We panicked, turned, and both started running – in opposite directions. Eddie ran towards the airshaft behind me, forgetting that I told him it was a dead end, and I headed for the stairs behind him to the street. So once again we crashed into each other. Any effort to be stealthy now was out the window. We both scrambled to our feet and I shouted, "NO! THIS WAY!" and we headed towards the stairs that led out to the street. As we got to the top of those steps, we both heard, in a loud deep voice, as clear as day, echoing down the tunnel behind us: "I SAID, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!!"

We didn't look back, we never turned around, and we just kept running and didn't stop until we were blocks away. We finally stopped and found a seat on a brick garden wall of the apartment building of my friend Tom, the fireworks entrepreneur.

"Ghost... that was a ghost... for sure..." Eddie said, between catching his breath.

"Yeah, I think so too," I said and coughed. "But what do we do now?" I asked.

"We follow instructions, that's what," Eddie answered, "And we stay the hell away from there!" And we did, for the rest of that summer, anyway.

It was hours before I would want to go home, but it was getting late, and the streetlights had come on, the official signal that playtime was over. I figured as long as I followed instructions, I'd be safe. That night, lying in bed, I smiled. I'd hate to admit it, but while the thought of a real live ghost in my backyard was scary, it also kind of cool.

Of course later, we told all our friends the tale, but they just said we were full of crap, we were making the whole thing up. We swore on our lives we weren't, but no one believed us. That was just fine. We knew the truth.

Now as an adult, I look back on The Spook Hole incident, and certain things occur to me. Sure, that voice COULD have just been someone who had an apartment off the airshaft who was yelling at some kid who was in a place he shouldn't have been. That body COULD have just been a wet cover-all, hanging from a heating pipe to dry. Sure, that's what it could have been, my adult mind thinks.

Then my other mind... the older mind, (the better mind), the one that goes back to when I was a kid, knows better. That WAS a body, and that WAS a ghost. It had to be, and they couldn't possibly have been anything else. After all, we saw and heard it all, and remember it to this very day. And it all happened in The Spook Hole.