Note: I will fill things in as time goes on. I will put a list in here to help myself keep track of the stories. 

Friday:

Friday morning, Denver International Airport was a deserted shitshow. Due to very strong, hot winds roaring down the mountains, sporadic ground stops at the airport delayed flights and scared away passengers. That meant our original flight was delayed for several hours, at least. 

However, my dad was determined to get us on a much earlier flight that had also been delayed. We just had to rush to the gate agent to change to that flight. 

The moment I set my stuff on the conveyor belt to go through security, the security X-ray machine broke, forcing myself and other passengers to unload our unpacked bags onto another belt. From security, we boarded a cramped train to our terminal, then made a mad dash to our gate towards the very end of terminal C. 

At the gate, Dad and I asked the gate agent to change our flight to that earlier (yet still delayed) flight.

“Well, you’re in luck!” she smiled, “Lots of people cancelled today.”

“Really?” my dad nodded. 

“Yup.” the lady nodded, “My husband’s a pilot and flew in this morning telling me he’s never experienced turbulence as bad as this morning’s turbulence was in all his years of flying. It really scared him.”

I shot my dad a very obvious, fearful glare. 

“Ah, we’ll be fine.” my dad laughed, “It’ll be fun, like a roller-coaster ride.”

“That it will be!” the gate agent giggled, “Good luck! Here’s your tickets.”

Unfortunately, I didn’t have any time to decompress as my boarding group was announced right as I was handed my ticket. Hardly anyone else joined my dad and I onto the jetbridge and into the plane. 

“Let’s sit somewhere behind the wing.” I mumbled to my dad as I followed him onto the Boeing 737. 

“Why? So we will survive?” Dad mocked under his breath.

When I didn’t answer, Dad glanced back to see me staring at him with huge, fear-filled eyes. As a result, he himself fell quiet and chose a seat just a few rows away from the very back of the plane. 

To be continued...

Red Wing, Friday night, the first restaurant we went to (I will fill in the context as time goes on, but I had to get this conversation written down because it was just so insane):

I ended up bringing up the fact that the old farmhouse burned down, and my cousin, Andrew, turned white. 

“My daughter saw gramma and grandpa at the house.” He said in a quivering voice. 

“She what?” My aunt Stacy gasped. 

“Yeah, I was in the livin’ room one morning and was about to sit down in the recliner, and my kid exclaimed, ‘Don’t sit there! That’s where grandpa sits!’, and she wasn’t even born until years after grandpa died. She never knew him. She couldn’t have known that he always sat in that corner where the recliner was.”

We all stared at my cousin, wide-eyed and jaw-dropped. 

“And then,” he continued, “My daughter was in her room talkin’ up a storm, and when I asked her who she was talking to, she told me ‘I’m showing gramma my toys!’ Scared the shit outta me!” 

“I knew it!” I shouted, “I fuckin’ knew that place was haunted!” 

“Yeah, I didn’t like livin’ there.” Andrew shook his head. 

“I didn’t like bein’ there alone, either.” My uncle Wade chimed in, “When I was there fixin’ the place up for you guys, I remember feeling so goddamned creeped out. I wouldn’t stay there past dark.” 

“I’m pretty sure gramma tugged on my hoodie and whispered my name in my ear.” My cousin, Kael, added. 

“Really?!” my aunt Stacy gasped, “That happened to me, too!” 

“What?!” 

“Yeah. I felt something pull on my necklace and when I paused I heard gramma say, ‘Stace’ like she always used to.” 

“Holy shit!” I yelled, “And I just thought I was just a wuss, goin’ crazy, and/or letting my imagination run away from me!” 

“You were definitely none of those things.” My uncle Wade said, “There was somethin’ seriously goin’ on with that house. Not sure if it really was gramma and grandpa, but regardless. Somethin’ was up with that place.”

“And when it burned,” my aunt interjected, “A handful of toys were found untouched on the lawn. All of ‘em- except for a stuffed animal- had some sort of sentimental value.”

“Really? Like what?” I asked. 

“The cast-iron tricycle, a bigger cast-iron tractor, and a few other things were found on the lawn.” my aunt answered, “Firefighters thought that maybe they got sucked out of the room when the windows exploded, but they didn’t find anything else besides those toys sucked out and untouched. Plus, it had to have been one hell of a blast to pick up cast-iron toys and gently leave them on the lawn.” 

“Damn…” I yawned in disbelief, “That’s insane!” 

“Gramma must’ve thought those were important.” my cousin Andrew posited. 

“She must’ve.” My aunt nodded, “She must’ve.” 

Saturday:

Sunday: