House by George Bard
Some people swore that the house was haunted, but I knew better, I had lived there most of my life, and I knew better. It was me who had pried the nails from the floor boards so the floors would squeak. It was me who had rigged the wires so the lights would blink. I was me who put things in the attic where the winds would move them and they would thump in the night. It was me too, who changed the shape of some of the sheet metal in the heating ducts. When the wind was just right, a low moan would echo through the building. And it was me who changed the piping so it would thump and bang every time the toilet flushed. Sometimes they would thump for no reason at all. I hated that house from the day we moved in. I was twelve and my room was at the end of the hallway, the little one with only one window. It looked out onto the brick wall of the house next to us. All the other rooms opened onto the hallway and everybody used the same bat...