Posted in The Ghosts of Springhollow

The Ghost Captain and Son

It was Wednesday, and Grandma and Grandpa had gone to town. It was the perfect time for the girls to confront the ghosts.

They stood at the bottom of the stairs looking utterly ridiculous. With cycling hats covered in tin foil, metal lids from the trashcan for shields, and both wearing earplugs for communicating and infrared goggles, they stood at the stairway door debating their sanity.

“Piper? Is this a good idea?”

“Probably not.”

“Fine. Just checking.”

They stood a few more minutes listening to the sound of crashing overhead. Neither of them really wanted to do this, but something had to be done.

“Turd says we’ll probably die,” said Piper.

“Shall we go out screaming then?” grinned Pickles nervously.

“Sounds good to me!”

The girls let out blood-curdling screams, threw the door open and dashed up the stairs holding their shields in front of them.

The throwing stopped. The girls had caught the ghosts off-guard with not only their screaming but their ridiculous tin foil hats.

“What on earth are you supposed to be?” asked the old captain.

“Your worst nightmare!” growled Pickles in a wild attempt to sound menacing.

The old captain stared for a minute. “You just heard me? You’re not dead.”

“Our dads invented a communicator when they were kids so they could talk to ghosts.

The Captain tugged at his beard. It was obvious being a ghost wasn’t going to scare these girls. They were used to them. “And what’s that contraption over your eyes,” he asked.

“Infrared goggles,” replied Piper feeling much more confident now. “It allows us to see you.”

The Captain wasn’t liking this. The element of surprise was gone. The girls could see every move he made. “I suppose another invention of your dads,” he growled.

“Indeed they are!” said Piper with pride.

“Well,” growled the Captain. “What do you intend to do?”

“We’re throwing you out!” said Piper. “This isn’t your house. It belongs to Turd and our grandparents!”

“Turd?” laughed the son. He had been standing off to the side watching. “What kind of name is that?”

“Theodore Ulysses Reginald Davenport,” replied Piper. “He built this home, and it’s his. Not yours. Now get out!” she commanded.

“We’re not going anywhere, Missy. But you are,” said the Captain.

Just then, the son threw a book and hit Piper in the chest. It threw her off balance and she fell backwards down the steps.

“PIPER!” cried Pickles. “PIPER!!!”

Posted in The Ghosts of Springhollow

THE TURD TELLS HIS TALE

The next morning, the girls decided to investigate Grandma’s upstairs. “Turd,” asked Pickles. “Why did you push Grandpa down the stairs?”

“Me? It wasn’t me!”

“Then what happened?”

“About six months ago, there was a boat fire on the river, just beyond the woods. An old captain and his grandson lived on the boat and died in the fire. Neither of them wanted to leave the river area, so they moved into my house. I was fine by that. I liked the idea of having company.

The first week everything was fine. Then, for some reason they started throwing things, and causing all kinds of havoc. They wanted the house to themselves. Grandpa came upstairs to see what all the camotion was about, and they pushed him back down the stairs. It happened before I could stop them. Then, they threw me out. I’ve been living in the old cellar here in the woods ever since.”

“Wow. Are they really that mean?” asked Piper.

“Worse. You can’t go up there. They’ll hurt you.”

“Do you think they possessed Grandpa, and that’s why he shot at us?” asked Pickles.

“No. Your Grandpa has been a whack-a-doodle for over a year now.”

“But it’s still possible.”

“No, it isn’t. I was watching his eyes. No one else was there. Plus, the other two ghosts never leave the house. It’s like they’re afraid if they do, I’ll take over again and find a way to keep them out.”

“Well, I say we go have a look,” said Pickles.

“Indeed,” said Piper. “We need to confront the enemy head on, and then we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”

Turd shook his head. “I promised your father I’d watch you till he got here.”

The girls laughed. “Oh, please, Turd,” said Pickles. “Dad knows what we’re like.”

Posted in The Ghosts of Springhollow

Piper Attacked

The girls hauled their gear, piece by piece, up the wooden ladder to the hayloft. They were beginning to wish they hadn’t brought so much stuff, but Pickles father had insisted on it. “The tent,” he said, “might prove to be a necessity.”

They laid out their sleeping bags, and set up their battery operated lamp on the small cooler Emma had given them packed full of goodies. They giggled and talked about the day, avoiding any mention of their grandparents memories failing. “Let’s tell ghost stories!” suggested Pickles.

They turned out the light. The night was anything but still. Spring Peepers were singing, Bullfrogs croaking, and other critters of the night were holding conversations loud enough to wake the dead. Off in the distance they could hear screech owls hooting along the river beyond the woods. Each girl held up a flashlight under her chin as she told her story. They told stories long into the night, till they eventually fell asleep.

“SCREEEECH!!! SCREEEEECH!!!” came a loud call above them. Both girls bolted straight up. A thud hit Piper’s sleeping bag. “OUCH” cried Piper. A tiny squeal, and the weight was gone.

“What happened?” cried Pickles. “Are you ok?”

“Something grabbed my leg. I think it was the owl.”

“GRABBED YOUR LEG?”

“Not bad. I think it just scared me more than anything.” Piper reached inside her sleeping bag and rubbed her leg. It was wet. “Oh my gosh! I’m bleeding!” she cried.

Pickles grabbed the first aid kit, as Piper crawled out of her bag. Piper grabbed a water bottle and washed off the light scrapes on her leg. Pickles followed up with alcohol swabs. Piper let out a yell. “Sorry, but we don’t want it infected.” They waited till it dried, added a trible-antibiotic ointment, and covered her leg with gauze.

The girls were so wrapped up in Piper’s wound that they didn’t notice the dozens of mice roaming around the loft. Neither of them wanted to go back to sleep for fear something else might happen.

“I don’t want to sleep up here anymore,” said Piper.

“It’s too late to go to the McFaddens. I know they wouldn’t mind, I just don’t want to wake them,” replied Pickles.

“Wanna set up the tent?”

“Sounds good to me.”

The girls carefully dropped their gear down on some hay that lay on the barn floor, then carefully climbed down the ladder.

Posted in The Ghosts of Springhollow

Grandma’s Freaky Memory

Farmer Mac helped the girls unload their gear to the porch. Before leaving, he quietly said, “Emma’s prepared a room for you two in case things get a bit too much.”

The girls smiled. “Thanks, Farmer Mac,” said Piper. “We might end up taking you up on it.”The girls got out of the truck and made their way to the pet cemetary. There were little tombstones here and there of family pets. In the back, under Pimples favourite tree to pee was his little stone with a small picture of him on it. The McFaddens had gone all out for him.

Pickles and Piper held on to each other and cried. They’d looked so forward to seeing him. He always got excited at their visits and never left their side no matter how long they stayed.

The McFadden’s had an old-time dinner bell on the porch. Emma rang the bell for the girls to let them know supper was ready. The girls quickly made their way to the farmhouse. The meal was delicious. Fat homemade soy burgers, topped with fresh tomatoes from the garden, homemade pickles, homemade catsup, and Emma’s special mayo.

Nearly everything the McFadden’s ate came straight from their farm. The broccoli, even the cheddar cheese she smothered it with were all made right there. Emma always said the food at her table was best because everything she made she made with love. And the girls believed it. There was no better cook.

After both girls ate a double-serving of apple pie and ice cream, Farmer Mac drove them to their grandparents. He gave the horn a few beeps, but no one came to the door. “That’s odd,” he murmured. “You kids stay here. I’m gonna go have a look.”

The girls sat tight, hoping Grandpa didn’t mistake Farmer Mac for a rat. He knocked on the door several times. It took a bit for Grandma to finally get to the door. Her arms flew up in excitement when she saw the girls. “I didn’t know you were coming! Where’s your father?”

The girls looked at one another and groaned. It was going to be a long summer.

“Stop saying that!”

“FINE!”

Posted in The Ghosts of Springhollow

Grandma’s House

The girls got out of the truck and made their way to the pet cemetary. There were little tombstones here and there of family pets. In the back, under Pimples favourite tree to pee was his little stone with a small picture of him on it. The McFaddens had gone all out for him.

Pickles and Piper held on to each other and cried. They’d looked so forward to seeing him. He always got excited at their visits and never left their side no matter how long they stayed.

The McFaddens had an old-time dinner bell on the porch. Emma rang the bell for the girls to let them know supper was ready. The girls quickly made their way to the farmhouse. The meal was delicious. Fat homemade soy burgers, topped with fresh tomatoes from the garden, homemade pickles, homemade catsup, and Emma’s special mayo.

Nearly everything the McFadden’s ate came straight from their farm. The broccoli, even the cheddar cheese she smothered it with were all made right there. Emma always said the food at her table was best because everything she made she made with love. And the girls believed it. There was no better cook.

After both girls ate a double-serving of apple pie and ice cream, Farmer Mac drove them to their grandparents. He gave the horn a few beeps, but no one came to the door. “That’s odd,” he murmered. “You kids stay here. I’m gonna go have a look.”

The girls sat tight, hoping Grandpa didn’t mistake Farmer Mac for a rat. He knocked on the door several times. It took a bit for Grandma to finally get to the door. Her arms flew up in excitement when she saw the girls. “I didn’t know you were coming! Where’s your father?”

The girls looked at one another and groaned. It was going to be a long summer.