2/22/2013

House at the End of Satter Field Road






 Once again, prepare to settle in and read another long blog post concerning my experiences with the supernatural.

[Editor's Note:  This story is written by the former blog owner and author, JD Weldy. This is not a guest post]




My last post on my experiences at Crybaby Bridge in Saraland, Alabama, as a small boy, got me to reminiscing about other supernatural or unusual occurrences that I experienced over the years.  I was 12 years old at the time of my Crybaby Bridge experience.  What I'm about to talk about occurred about 3 years earlier when I was all of 9 years of age. It is something I'm relatively sure you have heard mentioned before or seen on TV.  A house at the end of a cul de sac that seems spooky, the owner who seems strange and kids who simply can't resist going there.  That was me and my aforementioned friend, Charlie Foster, who I mentioned in the Crybaby Bridge post.  Charlie was killed after stepping on an anti-personnel mine in Vietnam in 1969.  Poor Charlie had only been in Vietnam 3 months.  Anyway, Charlie and I simply could not resist sneaking onto the property of Mrs. Wiezten's house at the end of Satter Field Road, which was about a block or so from where I lived.  She had these old Spanish moss oak trees on her property that made it appear as if ghosts were dancing in mid-air at night.  The house itself screamed "haunted" to anyone who saw it.  But, even more, Mrs. Wiezten was a strange person.  Many said she was a witch.  This was heady stuff if you are 9 years old and looking for adventure.  Mrs. Wiezten constantly was yelling at us and other kids to get off her property or you will regret it.   The last 4 words are what caused us to always come back for more.  We were kids and kids being kids, we couldn't resist snooping around.

It was early May as I recall (two weeks before the end of school for summer) when Charlie and I thought we going to be sent straight to hell.  It was a Saturday night, which is when we always got ourselves in trouble.  We had decided we were going to wait for Mrs. Wiezten to leave for her nightly pilgrimage to God knows where.  It never failed at 7 PM sharp, Mrs. Wiezten would leave in her rickety old, dilapidated VW Bug.  Where she would go during this time, no one ever really knew.  But, we knew she would be gone for about two hours.  Charlie and I thought she might be going into the woods to get herbs and spices to brew for her next curse.  We hid in the high grass of an open field that was directly behind her house.  Right on time, Mrs. Wiezten got into her VW Bug and left, with plumes of smoke billowing out behind.  Charlie said she needed to trade in that old car for a new broom.  After we stopped laughing, we started sneaking toward the back door to look inside.  It was difficult to see because the windows were covered with dust and very little lighting inside.  Suddenly, Charlie said, "David....look over at the stairway (I forgot to mention it was your traditional two-story haunted house)."  What I saw absolutely shocked me.

At the end of the stairway, was a small black box with something green glowing inside.  The green light was emanating around the edges of the black box.  The green light would ebb and rise about every minute.  Of course, we had to go inside now to see what was in that damn box.  We tried the back door.  Of course, it was locked.  So, Charlie starting trying to raise the window we had been looking through.  He managed to get it to open.  That was surprising to me.  Something didn't seem right.  I told Charlie lets just go home.  He wasn't having any of that.  It seems Charlie always wanted to become close friends with danger (which probably led to his ultimate demise as well).  Charlie was the first to go through the window, with me hesitantly going in behind him.  The house itself smelled like an animal had died inside.  It was a terrible smell.  There were dried animal skins along the wall leading into the kitchen area.  Cats, dogs, squirrels, rabbits, and others I have forgotten. The house was filthy and had probably not been dusted since before I had been born 9 years prior.  I told Charlie I was leaving.  Just as I said that a noise started coming from the black box.  It sounded like a siren on an ambulance at first.  But, that soon changed.  It now was like a jet engine.  The noise was unbelievable. It also had become unbearably loud.  I didn't have to tell Charlie to leave, he was already running toward the window.  The noise had kicked up about 100 decibels.  We were both screaming by now.  Charlie pushed the flimsy, thread bare curtains back.  The window had closed on us.

The room was becoming filled with a bright green light as we struggled to get the window opened.  I told Charlie to forget the window, let's go out the door!  The door would not open either.  It was padlocked from inside.  So, back to the window we went.  It still would not open.  The jet engine type noise was now causing the house itself to vibrate. We were getting out of there even if we had to bust open a window....which is exactly what we did.  Charlie took a poker from the fireplace and busted out the window we had used to enter the house.  Glass shattered all over the back porch as we both went out the window much faster than we had entered.  As soon as we were on the back porch, the noise and green light inside the house stopped.   We both looked at each other and went running as fast as our feet would carry us.  I am doubtful any Gold Medal Olympic sprinter could have caught up with us that day.  As we were almost within sight of our homes a block away, we saw the old VW Bug of Mrs. Wietzen coming back down the road toward her house.  She had been gone for less than 30 minutes which is something neither one of us could explain.  We both ducked down.  Just as we did that, she stopped her car.  She was at least 200 yards away from us.  She looked straight ahead, never glancing toward us.  She sat there for about 5 minutes, I guessed.  Then she slowly started making her way to her home.  We both belly crawled until we got to the dirt road leading to our homes.  Once we were sure we were out of sight, Charlie said, "You peed on yourself!"  I looked and saw I had.  I also noticed Charlie had done the same thing.  Ordinarily, that would have been reason enough for raucous laughter.  But, we were too unhinged about what had just happened.

To my knowledge, Mrs. Wiezten never called the police about her window being broken.  I suspect she didn't want police snooping around her house.  We both couldn't figure out the black box, green light and incredibly loud noise coming from that small black box.  To this day, I can't explain it.  I only told one other person this story prior to posting here on the internet.  I told my girlfriend at the Junior-Senior prom about 8 years later.  She didn't believe me.  I can't say I blame her. Charlie said he told his grandpa about it.  His grandpa looked at him and said, "Some day, you may pay for that, son.  I hope not."  About the same time, Charlie stepped on that land mine in Vietnam, I was involved in a terrible car accident about 3 weeks before I was sent to Naples, Italy to serve my time while in the U.S. Navy.  Two people in the car with me were killed.  I walked away with just a few lacerations.  Make of that what you will.  Charlie and I never went back to the house at the end of Satter Field Road.  We would occasionally talk about the incident.  But, not very often and it was only very briefly discussed.  As for Mrs. Wiezten, I only saw her one time after we broke into her house that Saturday night.  Just before Christmas of that same year, I had been sent to pick up the mail at the post office.  We were getting our mail general delivery which was not unusual in that time period.  As I came into the post office, I saw Mrs. Wietzen in line to pick up her mail as well.  Once she got it, she looked right at me.  I thought I was going to pee in my pants again.  She looked right at me with the blackest eyes I had ever seen.  Then, she slowly walked to the door with the slightest smile on her face.  I don't recall ever seeing her again since I never went back to Satter Field Road.  I avoided Satter Field Road like the plague.  Even now, I won't go back there.

There is only one other person who can confirm this actually happened.  Unfortunately, Charlie is deceased. Was it some kind of alarm that was unheard of in that era? That's very doubtful.  I don't think they had anything like that in 1960.  I could be wrong.  It seems the supernatural has followed me all my life.  This was just one incident of a multitude of incidents.  But, this incident is the one that seemingly I can never forget.  I can't explain what happened.  Nor do I expect anyone to believe this story.  But, as I approach the beginning of the end of my long life, I felt it was time to make this story known.  I just wish my old friend Charlie was here to back me up.

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1 comments:

Cool story! I enjoyed it very much.

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