Ghosts and Other Creatures at the Grain Elevator

One of our favorite playgrounds was the old abandoned grain elevator alongside the Wabash Railroad, about ten miles from our house, which also sat alongside the Wabash.

It was an all wood structure, the timbers of which had long before rotted to the point of being close to collapse. It seemed we could see forever from atop the old elevator. We deliberately tried to scare each other and ourselves by telling stories of ghosts that inhabited the old building. These stories were especially frightening when we camped out overnight. A long spout came out one side of the elevator and hung over the railroad, while another long pipe hung on the opposite side to suck the grain from farm trucks. These were a source of fear when illuminated by moonlight under a somewhat cloudy sky. They became giant arms that could swoop out, grab you, and shove you into the cavernous mouth, which was actually a large window near the middle of the building about half way up its side. From a distance, the old grain elevator became a huge creature from some mysterious faraway world, where monsters hung out.

Years before, someone started the tale of a major accident at the grain elevator in which a half dozen people were killed. The owner was responsible for their deaths due to his lack of maintenance on the dangerous old building. That's why it was no longer used. Of course, we knew the angry souls of the dead men still inhabited the place at night, then went back to their place of rest during the day. In our hearts, we knew it was just a story someone invented to scare us, but we consciously forced ourselves to believe it, so our sojourns to the elevator at night would be more exciting.

I believe the nerviest thing I ever did as a kid was climb all the way to the top of the grain elevator on a dark, moonless night. An old set of stairs wound their way around inside the walls of the building to the very top, and half the wooden steps were rotted away. There was always the danger of a step breaking under your weight, sending you plummeting all the way to the bottom and your death. That's what made it such a great dare to take on! That, and all the ghosts and assorted creatures we knew inhabited the place after dark.

One night, as we camped out next to the haunted grain elevator, one of my sisters called me chicken. I decided to show all of them just how brave I really was, by doing something no one had done - journeying to places where man had never before gone. I would climb all the way to the top of the haunted building at night! Never mind the fact that Louis Angeles, my best friend, was with us. I had to prove, at least to him, I wasn't chicken. Heck, I'd already proven I wasn't chicken any number of times. After all, wasn't it I, who climbed aboard the untried, unproven raft we built and took it on its maiden voyage, nearly losing my life when it sank? But there seemed to be a need to continually prove ones bravery at that young age.

With a lot of hoopla about my doing the unthinkably scary and dangerous deed, I worked up the nerve to go through the open doorway that was large enough to drive a truck through. The doors which once closed on this opening had half their boards missing and hung on hinges thoroughly rusted solid in the open position.

After carefully working my way through all the rusty old machinery, filling the floor space of the elevator, I made it to the bottom of the stairway. Very carefully and, with a constant, nervous swinging of my eyes from side to side to spot a ghost before he spotted me, I moved up one step. I stood frozen into silence, listening for any ghosts that I might have disturbed. Then, another step, and another, then another. Each time I moved up a step and stopped, I desperately hung onto the iron pipe rail with one hand and felt for the next step with the other.

All the while, my sisters and Louis moaned and groaned, trying their best to scare me. But knowing what a real ghost sounded like, I could differentiate between their amateurish moans and groans and those of a real ghost, so they didn't bother me.

The smell of dust, rotten wood, bird droppings and old doo-doo covered bird nests permeated the stale air. The bird nests filled every nook and cranny of the old building. Just enough breeze was blowing to rattle a loose piece of tin somewhere on the outside of the building. At least I hoped it was the wind doing it! As I conquered each step, I knew a ghost was waiting to grab me by the arm and fling me to the bottom, where my body would be smashed to a thousand pieces, and I'd become a ghost myself! The thought of being a ghost wasn't so bad, really. I could haunt my sisters and scare the hell out of 'em!

My mind raced from one scary scene of my death to another, as I slowly made my way step by step toward the top. Now, as an adult, I find it hard to put into words what I felt when I finally found myself standing on the platform which ran around the top of the building. I'd made it all the way to the top without being gobbled up by a space monster or being flung off the stairs by a ghost!

I stood stark still, barely breathing, expecting a ghost, who'd let me make it to the top so I'd have farther to fall. He would envelope my body and mind and claim me for his victim. After several minutes of survival, I leaned out one of the openings to yell at the chickens below. After yelling a half dozen times without a sound coming back to indicate they were still about, I panicked. They ran off and left me in that God forsaken, ghost infested place all by myself!

I could see the bonfire below, but no one sat or stood around it as they should have. An overwhelming fear engulfed me. What if the ghosts got all of them and saved me for last? Again, I stood perfectly still, awaiting the fate I knew was surely assigned me. Looking back, it is so funny that I could have been so afraid, but when you're eight or nine years old, ghosts and goblins and kid-gobbling space creatures are as real as night and day.

Starting down the old rotten steps, I heard every tiny sound the creaking boards made. The loose piece of tin banging against the building became the death beat of the ghost's high pitched drum. I also heard the loud drumbeat that was my heart pounding in fear. The old musty, dusty smell of the place now became the smell of ghosts closing in on me - circling ever closer until they were right upon me. When they had me surrounded, they would throw me down the stairs and laugh, as my body was crushed on the rusty old machinery below. I could already hear their laughter!

Creeping slowly down the stairs, moving one step at a time, I shook so badly, my hands barely hung onto the iron pipe rail that ran along the stairs and was attached to the wall of the building. The other side of the stair was open to the depths below, so both my hands gripped the one rail with an intensity never before, nor since, equaled.

It seemed an eternity until I had but ten or twelve steps to go, when, because I was keeping such a good eye out for the ghosts who surrounded me, I didn't keep an eye on my footing. I stepped where there was no longer a step and found myself hanging precariously from the handrail. Had I not had a strong heart, I would have been dead of fright right then and there. The only reason I could think of for my hanging there in the blackness of space was the ghosts had torn away the bottom of the stairway, and now they'd have me after all, even as I was nearly down the stairs. But I managed to get my foot back on the step below and saved myself. I stood there for some time, shaking, a death grip on the old rusty pipe handrail, looking and listening for the tell-tale signs of the ghosts before looking down at the steps below me. For some reason, I assumed the ghosts would come from overhead.

The small amount of moonlight now filtering through the sides of the building, where sheets of tin were missing or pulled apart, made it even spookier, as I moved downward one step, then stopped to look and listen. At last, I was at the bottom of the stairway and knew if I could make it to the door on the other side of the building I'd be safe. But there was all that old machinery between me and the door. The ghosts could be hiding anywhere among it. That's when I figured out why they hadn't thrown me off the top of the stairs. They were probably playing a game with me, or trying to lull me into a false sense of security. They let me go safely through the machinery on my way into the building, and they let me make it all the way to the top and back down again, just to play an evil game that only ghosts would think of. But now, I was on the way out and they couldn't let me escape!

It wasn't a straight shot to the door, but rather, I would have to weave my way in and out among the derelict machines to gain the outside and freedom from the evil things that dwelled within. I wondered if I dare risk trying to run through the gauntlet in the dark, or walk slowly and quietly to avoid disturbing the ghosts or alien creatures, whichever they might be. Perhaps they were unaware I was in their haunt. No, it would not only be foolish, but dangerous to fall into such a trap of wishful thinking.

I finally decided to move slowly and cautiously and started my trip to the door. My legs seemed to have a mind of their own and would barely respond to my commands to move. You must remember, it was pitch dark inside that ghost infested old building, save the tiny amount of light from the moon filtering in. I decided to dart from one piece of machinery to the next and wait to see if the ghosts were after me before darting to the next.

I ran two steps and something grabbed me, flinging me to the rough, cracked cement floor. I writhed about, grabbing at the unseen creatures ensnaring my legs. Their arms felt like the old rubber and cloth belts that wound between pieces of machinery. I fought off their grabbing claws, jumped to my feet and to hell with it, ran for the door!

Just as I got to the door, there was the scariest banging and racket on the sides of the building you could imagine! The ghosts were making one last effort to snare me! I ran out the door, past the campfire, and directly into the large patch of blackberry bushes surrounding the old haunted building!

I'm sure many people are familiar with blackberry bushes, but for those of you who aren't, they have very big, very sharp thorns - far worse than the worst thorns of a rose bush. My mad dash into the bushes resulted in my being scratched all about the face, neck, arms, hands and everywhere else a thorn could penetrate my clothing. But I had escaped the place of ghosts! The pain of the blackberry thorns tearing at my body was little price to pay for having been spared the awful tearing at my soul by the ghosts and my death by being thrown from the top of the dusty, musty, bird dropping littered, old building. Everyone knew if you ever went into the ghost infested old grain elevator at night, you'd never come out again alive!

As I attempted to backtrack out of the bushes without further physical damage to my being, I heard the laughter. This wasn't the laughter of ghosts. It was quite familiar laughter. After carefully extracting myself from the clutches of the blackberry bushes, I walked back to the campfire and found all my sisters sitting on the ground, laughing their fool heads off. It was they who beat on the sides of the building, not the ghosts coming after me. My first inclination was to get mad, but I thought I'd get one up on them. I'd show them!

"I knew it was you all the time."

"No you didn't! You thought it was the ghosts!"

"There ain't no ghosts!"

"Then why were you afraid?"

"Why do you think I was afraid?"

They had a hard time answering for all their laughing. "Because you ran into them bushes like the devil was after you."

"I'll prove there aren't any ghosts. You're nuts if you think there's ghosts in there." I walked back through the door of the building, carefully made my way up the half rotten stairway again and threw the handful of rocks I scooped up outside the door at my sisters below. When they yelled at me, I told them, "Come up and get me if you're not too chicken! But don't forget the ghosts! They like girls! They'll eat you for supper!" Needless to say, none of them found the courage to enter the gaping mouth of the haunted place. And they never again went into the old building when I'd gone in first. They knew I'd be waiting somewhere in the dark to scare them half to death, as they had scared me.