Today, I walked around looking for the spookiest house in our neighborhood. Here’s one I found just down the street.

Is that a scary old lady in the front window?

When Nevada Girl and I were growing up in Virginia, we would sometimes visit our great aunt who lived in a spooky house. It was old and dark and crowded with dusty dangerous things we were too scared to touch. She knew it was spooky and she liked it that way. She kept a mannequin at the top of her stairs dressed in her dead husband’s WW1 uniform so people looking in her window would think someone was upstairs. We loved visiting her because it made us feel brave…even though the place was slighltly creepy, how frightening could our lovely great aunt’s home truly be?

Then we’d run across these framed pictures that scared the pants off of us every time:

What kind of old lady would have these other than a spooky old lady in a scary house?

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