We used to think it was so fucking funny

So there was this place me and my friends used to go to back in college. We used to think it was so fucking funny. And I guess I still think it's kind of funny, but for an entirely different reason. We used to sit on the steps of this old abandoned church and roll our joints on a King James Bible. It was the early nineties and for a lot of my friends, college was their first time away from their parents. My dad died when I was young and my mom was always working so I was always doing what I wanted to do, for the most part.

~Anonymous

It was supposed to be funny, you know?

It was supposed to be funny, you know? There was this old looking house in our neighborhood that we would joke about being haunted. We knew there was someone living there but we were kids, so we liked to imagine things. Well, anyway, one day when my younger brother and I were playing with a girl from our neighborhood we decided to 'check out' that house's yard. I was about eleven years old at the time and my brother was about eight-ish. I was the oldest out of all three of us. Anyway, I hopped over the fence into the backyard first. There were these big bags of soil that we used as steps, but when I hopped over I realized that I couldn't leave the way I came. There was nothing stacked against the other side of the fence for me to step on. I told my brother and of course he jumped right on over to help me. But then we were both stuck. The neighbor girl that was with us thought that if she jumped over the fence we could figure out something together, I'm sure you can guess that we didn't magically figure it out with her on our side of the fence. If anything, we panicked more. We couldn't go around the front because then we might get caught by the person living in the house. (We later found out they were on vacation and weren't even home.) I could hear my dad calling my brother and I because I had soccer practice soon. The neighbor girl started crying and saying we were going to make the ghosts in the house mad and then my brother started crying and then I started crying. We cried for a good ten minutes until my brother kicked a rock in frustration and it hit these crate boxes. I swear I probably screamed something like, "We're saved!". Long story short, we dragged those stupid things over to the fence and made some stairs and climbed out of there. It was probably one of the most stressful thirty minutes of my childhood and I guess the moral is 'make sure you can get out before you go in', or something stupid like that. I didn't go to soccer practice that day, by the way. And my brother didn't come out of his room for a good five hours.

~Anonymous