Mrs. MacGinny’s House
written by: Tim Law
“Jimmy can’t swing!” shouted the kids in the outfield. “Jimmy can’t bat!”
Little Jim Thomson stepped up to the home plate, taking a few practice swings with the bat his dad had made for his birthday.
‘You can do this, Jim,’ he stated in his head, a mantra of confidence.
Deep down though he knew it wasn’t true.
Since moving with his mom and dad to Pittsburg Jim had never scored a hit in the annual Halloween baseball game, this would be three years running.
“Three strikes Jimmy and that will be that,” the outfield continued, laughing at their own joke.
“You can do it, Jimmy!” called his friend Lisa from the bleachers.
Jim shielded his eyes as he looked around the old cement factory plot trying to find a place to safely hit. His team had loaded bases and they were only down by four but Jim was their last batter. The rest of the team groaned, Lisa was the only one who had any faith, not even Jim himself thought he could do it. Standing proudly upon the Pitcher’s Mound, Sally Henderson flashed a number of hand signals, confusing and complex. Behind him, Jim thought he heard the catcher snigger.
“Batter up!” cried the umpire.
Jim held his bat tight, swung back, and then closed his eyes as the pitch came in.
“Strike one!” called the umpire, a swing and a miss.
“Nice one Sally!” called out a couple of kids.
“You’ve got him Sal,” cried another.
“Hit it Jimmy!” called Lisa again. A few others in the dugout, Jim’s teammates took up the cry. It didn’t last long.
The second pitch came in lightning fast and Jim did not even have a chance to swing.
“Strike two!” called the umpire. Sally had fired off the perfect pitch.
One more strike and the game would be over. Nobody tried stealing bases. Jim’s team would need all three on the loaded bases to sneak home to even draw. Win or lose it was up to Jim and Sally and this final pitch.
“Three strikes Jimmy!” began the outfield, chanting the words over and over.
Jim sensed the ball leave the pitcher’s hand and he swung with all of his might. Somehow there was a thunderous crack and Jim dropped the bat. In shock, he opened his eyes and watched in amazement. The ball flew long and far, over the outfielders, over the dunes of dirt at the very back of the lot, over the fence. The field was silent as everyone shielded their eyes and strained them, trying to see where the ball landed.
“Run Jimmy! Run!” Lisa called and Jim began to run.
The neighborhood erupted, cheering at this miracle they had all witnessed. Little Jim Thomson had not only hit the ball, he’d won the game.
Jim ran from home plate as fast as his little legs would take him. Before he’d even reached first base though, there was a sudden sound of smashed glass. The noise was that loud it could be heard over the celebrations. As it happened the celebration ruckus died down to a murmur and then faded away completely, gone just as sudden as it had begun.
“Nice one Jim!” called Sally, not happy that she’d lost. “Hurry up and run over there and fetch my ball!”
Jim made sure that he ran all of those bases, smiling broadly as he touched home plate. After that he trudged off, Lisa beside him. Together they headed across the field toward the row of houses that sat abandoned, lifeless ever since the factory had shut down fifty years before.
“That was an amazing hit, Jim,” Lisa said, honestly impressed.
“It was more luck than anything,” Jim admitted. “You helped me believe I could do it.”
Lisa smiled hearing that and for a little while the two walked in silence.
As they strolled past the huge mounds of sand that used to be used to help mix the cement Lisa punched Jim in the arm, playfully.
“What was that for?” asked Jim, giving his arm a rub.
“I don’t think any kid has ever hit a ball that far,” gushed Lisa. “You should be super proud.”
By then the pair had reached the gate in the huge perimeter fence, it was unlocked and hanging half open. Jim opened it wider for his friend and then stepped through after Lisa.
“Oh no,” Lisa said as the houses came into view.
Of the six houses that lined the street and stared blankly back at Jim and Lisa only one looked like it was winking. A freshly smashed window embedded in the roof had the frayed curtain blowing in and out like a set of fake lashes. Far below that the faded red door looked like a thin mouth calling all the kids to dinner.
“That’s Mrs. MacGinny’s house,” murmured Jim.
“Don’t go in Jim, that place is haunted,” begged Lisa. “Let’s turn around and go back, I’m sure the other kids will understand.”
“Sally won’t,” sighed Jim. “She gives me a hard enough time already.”
“Well then,” said Lisa, taking hold of Jim’s hand. “If we have no choice then we just gotta go in together.”
Lisa’s steely resolve gave Jim the bravery he needed. Hand in hand, step by step the pair marched with a determination towards that house. As they stepped up onto the dust-covered porch Jim raised his fist to knock but then laughed.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if somebody answered?” he said, smiling.
Lisa thumped his arm again.
“Haunted Jim,” she reminded her friend. “Mrs. MacGinny herself would probably open it and invite us in.”
“Come on,” grumbled Jim, his jovial mood soured as he thought of what it would be like if Mrs. MacGinny did do that. He shuddered at the thought.
Lisa turned the door handle and the front door swung open inwardly with an echoing creeeeeeeaaaaaakkkkkk.
“Hello!” Lisa called. “May we come in?”
The doorway was clear but for a silent and gloomy darkness.
“Nobody here but us it seems,” smiled Jim.
He gave his arm another rub where it still hurt before walking cautiously in.
Lisa stepped in behind him and tried the light switch. Of course, the power company had switched off the supply of electricity years before.
“Click!” went the switch but there was no light. “Click! Click! Click!”
“Stop it Lisa, we’ll just have to open the curtains and see what natural light we can let in,” scolded Jimmy crossly.
Carefully the two kids made their way through the gloomy darkness over to the front room’s windows. There were two, one facing the street and one at the side of the room. The dust that coated those windows made it hard for the light to get in but what little light could get through the dust did make it somewhat easier to see.
“Come on, Jim,” called Lisa as she weaved her way through the front room furniture. “The door’s this way.”
“I’m coming, don’t rush me,” grumbled Jim as he followed after.
The house was a funny design, straight from the outside porch to the first room of the house. Beyond that, there was a bit of a passage that then curved around to lead to a plain old kitchen. There was a terrible smell coming from the refrigerator.
“Probably a body,” suggested Lisa.
Jim didn’t want to stop and find out. The little light that came in revealed there was no cracked windows and no sign of Sally’s baseball. Checking the other three rooms on that floor both Lisa and Jim came up empty-handed. That left the stairs. Jim took the first step, carpeted and soft. His feet almost didn’t make a sound. With slow caution, he made his way up.
“Come on slow poke!” Jim then called down to his friend who remained on the ground floor.
In two leaps of faith, Lisa managed five steps and caught up with Jim. Together they froze, as up above them there was the sound of a sudden noise.
“Thump!” went the noise again.
“Jim?”
‘Yeah, what is it Lisa?”
“Maybe we should turn around and go back?”
Lisa began edging back down the stairs when another noise came from the kitchen.
“Jim?” asked Lisa. “Is it Mrs. MacGinny?”
“Run,” suggested Jim.
While Lisa ran down the stairs Jimmy ran up.
“No Lisa! Come this way!”
In the gloomy darkness, a pinprick of light revealed to Jim Lisa’s shaking head.
“There is no way you can get me to climb those stairs, Jim,” said Lisa, staying put.
“Fine with me then,” grumbled Jim. “I’ve still got a ball to find.”
One more step, then two, then three. Jim was glad when he felt rather than saw his friend Lisa bound up the steps behind him.
“James Jonathan Thomson, I cannot believe you were just going to leave me.”
“I knew you’d come after me, Lisa,” Jim said, seriously. “And I’m so glad you did.”
“Together to the end?” asked Lisa, thrusting her little finger at Jim’s face for a pinkie promise.
Jim grasped the offered finger with his own pinkie.
“Together to the end,” he promised. “Now come on, let’s go find that ball.”
The top of that flight of stairs revealed four more closed doors and a hatch in the ceiling with a rope dangling down. The rope was too high up for Jim and Lisa to reach. Jim hoped they’d find Sally’s ball before they needed to check the attic. As they turned the handle on the door to the first of the four rooms there came the noise again, louder, clearer. It sounded like something big. Clearly whatever was causing the noise was waiting up above.
Jim threw open the door and he and Lisa gave the dark room a quick glance. There looked to be a big bed, some cupboards, and no sign of a smashed window.
“Let’s see what is behind door number two?” suggested Lisa.
This time she turned the handle and the door opened with a creepy crrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeekkk…
Again there came a thump. Both kids looked upwards before staring at each other.
“The ghost!” said Jim.
“A monster!” said Lisa.
“It must be… Mrs. MacGinny!” they both said together.
A quick check of rooms three and four revealed the horrific discovery that the lost baseball could only be in the last place left to look. All they had left to search was up in the attic.
“Together to the end,” Lisa and Jim said, echoing their pinkie promise from before.
“Keep steady!” hissed Jim in the darkness. “You almost dropped me!”
Smaller than Lisa and somewhat lighter it was Jim who had been chosen to stretch up and grab the rope high above the two kids’ heads. Difficult at the best of times, with hardly any light the job was ten times harder. Balancing on his friend’s shoulders Jim felt twice the cord brush past his fingers.
‘That would be strike two,’ he thought to himself but did not say it aloud.
Lisa was having enough of a hard time making sure they did not both fall over and tumble down the stairs.
“Let’s give it one last try, ok?!” Jimmy urged and Lisa used all of her strength to stand on tiptoe.
That extra inch or two was enough and with a cry of success Jim grabbed hold of that dangling rope. As the ladder to the attic clicked and clacked its way downwards the two kids tumbled back.
“Are you ok?” asked Jim.
Lisa groaned.
“Next time I’m going on your shoulders,” she muttered.
“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time then,” Jim replied.
“Are you going up, Jim?” asked Lisa, her question more of a suggestion.
There was another noise in the darkness up above and Jim gulped.
“I thought maybe, ladies first?” he suggested with a weak smile.
“Little Jimmy Thomson, you get up that ladder right now,” Lisa growled. “There is no way you’ll make me first to meet the monster.”
Again Jimmy gulped but this time he started the climb. The ladder was rickety but Jim was light. Soon he had his head through the hole in the ceiling. Looking around he stumbled back a step as he saw something in the attic gloom.
“Ouch, hey watch it!” called Lisa from below him. “Your bottom is in my face.”
“I saw something, could be the ghost,” Jim told Lisa.
“Get up there Jim, we’ll look together,” Lisa urged.
Reluctantly Jim poked his head through the hole and laughed when he realized he’d seen a mirror half covered over by a greying sheet. A bit braver Jim took the last few rungs of the ladder and stepped into the attic. As Lisa followed after him Jim opened the curtains of the other window and let a little bit of light in. There was a whistling coming from the opposite end to where the glass from the window lay.
“Hey Jim, check this out,” urged Lisa.
Pulling back some plasterboard Lisa showed Jim a hole in the wall with some scorch marks around it. It looked as though a storm had caused some damage.
“Hey Lisa,” cried Jim, triumphant. “I found Sally’s ball.”
The two kids raced over to a patch of shadow near some cardboard boxes. As Jim reached down to pick up the baseball it suddenly rolled behind the boxes.
“Mrs. MacGinny!” yelled Lisa and Jim together.
As they both turned to rush for the ladder there was another noise.
“Mew, mew, mew!”
A faint little sound rumbled from behind the boxes.
Then it came again.
As both Jim and Lisa crept forward and peered over the top of those boxes they discovered six kittens, maybe four months old, and a mama cat nestled amongst some old newspapers. A sooty black kitten and a turquoise sibling battered the ball back and forth between them. All seven bundles of cuteness erupted in a chorus of purring.
As the two brave explorers stepped out of Mrs. MacGinny’s house through that faded red door there was a roar of applause from the neighborhood kids. Jim threw Sally her ball and gave her a wink, but Sally didn’t care. Like all the kids who’d gathered there, Sally just wanted to see the beautiful kittens, hoping beyond hope that she could take one home. It was like Halloween and Christmas all rolled into one. Little Jimmy Thomson beamed knowing he and Lisa were the heroes of that day.
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