At the age of seventeen, I was much like any other teenager. I loved hanging out with friends, music and had dreams of grandeur. At that time, I wanted nothing more than to learn bass guitar and start a rock band. It was just the right mix of cool, a teen rock band demanded attention but the bass gave me the security of not being the front runners. That year for Christmas I received a bass and a small amplifier from my grandparents, it was my first step to being a rock star. After a year of rigorous practice I was up to snuff for my friends to start taking notice. The greatest thing was that they had the same glorious dream as I did.
Black Envy, mind you I didn't pick the name, started practices in the lead guitarist's basement. We practiced after school twice a week and we were sounding great but much like every teenager that starts a band, the parents got sick of the racket. That fall, we moved from house to house more times than I could remember. Black Envy was running out of places to practice.
Lucky for the band our second guitarist's dad bought and remodeled old houses around the town especially a significantly spacious one close to the high school. So it was decided that we would meet at the house after I got off work. Our guitarist snagged the key from his father that night, letting us into the two story house. It was amazing, the house was huge! Black Envy finally had a space to play without annoyed parents getting in the way.
We set up our gear in the living room, waiting on one more member to arrive. It was quiet for a while before we heard footsteps above up on the second floor. We ran up the stairs to check out the noise, no one was there. No one else was in the house but us and our vocalist was on her way. When she arrived we started practice right away, it was getting late and the next day was a school day.
The acoustics were great in that old house, we sounded awesome. However, I think someone didn't appreciate our music, the footsteps started again this time it sounded like someone was stomping across the second floor. We weren't going to be deterred from practice by some angry stomping. Black Envy practiced though the stomping ghost after a short explanation to our vocalist.
When the stomping finally stopped it was close to fifteen minutes of clean practice before the back door slams hard for no visible reason. Suddenly all three of our amps started to give out some serious feedback and the temperature in the room dropped. We all stopped at the same time, looking at each other with similar frightened expressions. Without saying a single word, we unplugged our amps and the electronic drum set, rushing out the back door. We couldn't get out fast enough.
It was on the street corner that our second guitarist finally told us how his dad got the house and it had to do with the two distinctly active ghosts. He said that the two scared off the past owners with enough force for his dad to get a great price. In the same breath, he explained that his dad had plans to knock the whole place down to build a new house on top of it. We all had read enough ghost stories and watched enough horror films to know what could happen to the house.
Black Envy broke up shortly after that from the fatal relationship killer named teen drama. It's been seven years since that night, I still live in my hometown and every so often I pass by that house. Since the rebuild there has only a few short-term owners, the current one has been there for a year but I still hear rumors that the pair of ghost moved just fine into the new house.
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