I originally wrote this for a Ghost Story series on Funny Life Stories.

A childhood friend had a farm that we visited frequently.  We spent hours upon hours riding horses or just running around the acres of land.

But there was one area we would never venture near.  At the back of the property was a house.  An old abandoned house.  THE house.  The HAUNTED house.

There were many rumors about mysterious noises heard and sights seen.  We had heard all the stories and had always steered clear.

Until the day we didn’t.

We stubbornly decided to prove our bravery by visiting the house.  We walked for what seemed like miles, getting more nervous with every step.  We crossed field after field.  Climbed fence after fence.

As the house came into view, we were each too proud to turn back.  Then we saw it.  Movement behind one of the broken windows.  We gasped.  We crept closer in an attempt to get a better look.  We saw more movement.  We climbed the fence into the final field separating us from the house.  We were so intently trying to get a better look at the shadowy figure, we didn’t notice anything else around us.

We were shocked to see more movement, but this time in the field instead of the house.  There was no doubt this time.  It was clear as day, and running right toward us.  It was huge and terrifying and we were momentarily frozen in fear and disbelief.

We snapped out of our stupor and ran as fast as we could, screaming all the way across that field in front of the haunted house, with the giant beast on our heels.  We sprinted until we reached the fence and hopped it in a quick jump.

In our quest to solve the mystery of the monster house, we had inadvertently entered the field of a different kind of monster.

A bull.

After being chased by that behemoth, the shadowy figure didn’t seem quite so scary after all.