My grandparents had sold the Covington house not long after my disappearing act in the woods, which had finally prompted Jude and eventually the rest of my cousins to come clean about their own paranormal encounters with that house. I hadn’t actually been back to the area since, which was nearly two decades ago. But after all of the new questions that Gabby’s cryptic-as-fuck answers had left me with, I decided it was time that I finally returned.
There was even a part of me that was genuinely pumped to possibly get a second chance to face off against the demons of my childhood now that I was an adult (or a close proximity.) Plus, I was psyched to visit the house itself, after all these years. And that’s when I ran into an interesting problem…
I called my now 88 year-old grandmother to get the Covington house’s exact address so I could scope out the area on Google beforehand, but Grammy couldn’t remember it. This was a discovery which seemed to frustrate her to no end. I chalked this up to old age and didn’t give the issue much thought until I asked my uncle and all four of my aunts about the address, and none of them could remember it either.
Sure, it was a long time ago but they seemed just as frustrated by this realization as Grammy was. Each of them tried to give me directions to the house once I was over the Causeway Bridge, hoping to jog their own memories in the process, but every set of directions conflicted with the others.