Long ago my grandparents lived at 17 Exeter Avenue in West Pittston, Pennsylvania. My grandfather died in August of 1959 , shortly before I was born and my grandmother died in September of 1978, right before my nineteenth birthday. Their next door neighbor during the 1940’s and 1950’s was Bob Weaver, an eccentric recluse. Although Jared Jennings, a local attorney, had purchased the house during the 1960’s, locals have always claimed, to this very day, that Bob’s ghost still haunts it. A few months ago, the current owners decided to do some renovating. One otherwise uneventful Saturday morning, the carpenters showed up to get started. Little did they didn’t know what they’d find when they started pulling up the floorboards. By now several decades have passed since Bob’s day so the current neighbors only know of him by way of old legends and hearsay. That’s why all were so stunned to see, underneath the floorboards, thousands of dollars in unmarked bills, and a bunch of obscure esoteric booklets and pamphlets indicating that the long-deceased local oddball may have been involved with an underground satanic cult. As far as anyone could tell, that must have been why he always kept to himself, and never spoke to anyone. Pittston and West Pittston, in his day, were quite a strict old-fashioned Christian couple of cities, where the Catholics and Protestants weren’t even very easily able to handle each other, and most certainly were not the least bit willing to countenance a proponent of black magic and witchcraft who would even be willing to sell his very soul to Satan. At least now the locals understood quite well why their grandparents and parents had always claimed to have been so overwhelmingly terrified of the one-time neighborhood misfit. As a general rule no one should be in a hurry to believe old neighborhood folklore and gossip. This time around, though, the truth turned out to be even much scarier than people’s suspicions. At least the good news is that things are all finally out in the open. From now on, whenever people in the local boroughs want to tell about Bob’s legendary exploits, they will have a lot of available subject matter to work with instead of having to make things up. Besides that, now that they have an explanation for all the odd occurrences in the neighborhood over the course of the past half century, they can feel much more comfortable driving through the long and winding local country roads on very dark, stormy, foggy nights.