by MJ Ware
"It’s over here, Elly," Ann beckoned from the other side of the large room. She was already removing a panel. Elly Farnham joined her friend as the second panel was taken from its fittings. She peeked into the dark space behind the wall and could not tell if it was large or small.
"This is where you hide?" she asked.
"Yeah, one of us gets in there and we board it up again. Then we bring someone in and tap on the wall and call the ghost. It usually scares the bejesus out of them."
"And Dick is bringing someone in tonight?"
"Yeah, Dan Breen. Dan says there are no such things as ghosts and even if there were, he wouldn’t be afraid of them. He says he would just walk up to a ghost and poke it and tell it he wasn’t afraid. Dick is bringing him in after tea, at seven o’clock. Do you want to come?"
"Oh yes! Absolutely."
Ann removed the third and final panel and Elly was able to crawl in, though she chose to venture just a little. She could see no discernable boundaries.
"How big is it in there?" she asked, returning to the solid floor of the basement.
"Just big enough to hide a person," Ann replied as she began to replace the wood.
"I can’t wait until seven o’clock!" Elly exclaimed. Then she had an absolutely brilliant idea.
"Can I be the ghost Ann? Can I be the ghost, please? I’d love to be the ghost."
Her friend considered the proposal.
"Gerald usually does it. He’s very good," she said
"But I could be a great ghost, listen to this," she began to make a low droning noise.
"Wooo, wooo, wooo," she continued, crinkling her fingers in front of her.
"All right Elly, you can be the ghost tonight. But you have to be here by a quarter to seven, so I can put you inside and you have to promise to stay inside on your own until we bring Dan Breen in."
She looked at her friend and waited for confirmation.
"I will. I will. I promise," Elly promised.
"Elly! Elly Farnham!" Ann’s older brother Gerald stood at the top of the stairs.
"Sinead is at the door. She says you’re to come home for your tea. It’s on the table."
Elly turned to go immediately.
"I’ll be back at a quarter to," she promised as she passed Gerald and left for her own house and her tea. The boy raised a finger to the bridge of his round spectacles and pushed gently to resettle the things on his none. Then he sauntered down the stairs.
"Our tea is just ready too," he said. "Mammy is looking for you."
"I’ll only be a minute," Ann replied as she replaced the third panel.
"Elly Farnham wants to be the ghost tonight, when Dick brings Dan Breen in," she told him.
"Really?" he said, imagining Elly Farnham waiting in the dark space he usually occupied before the ghost was conjured.
Unlike Elly Farnham, Gerald O’Reilly knew the parameters of the space behind the panels intimately. He knew exactly how many children could hide in there. He knew there was ample room for two.
"I have an idea," he said.
* * *
Elly Farnham showed up at twenty to seven. Ann had already secured an ivory candle on an old saucer. She lit the candle at the top of the stone stairs and led the way down. As they crossed the floor in silence Elly was increasingly mindful of the changed nature of the room. There was no light from outside. Illumination from the lit wick barely seemed to reach the dark, heavy walls.
"You won’t be long, will you?" Elly asked as her friend began to remove the paneling.
"No. I won’t be long. I’ll bring them straight in. Remember to stay really, really quiet until you hear me call for the ghost."
Elly nodded. Ann lifted the third panel out. It was time. Elly looked inside. Then she turned again to her friend.
"Ann, are you sure you won’t be long?"
"I promise."
Elly Farnham climbed into the pitch dark hole in the wall. Ann O’Reilly replaced the panels.
"OK in there?" she asked, tapping on the wood.
"Hurry," came the faint reply.
"I’m going to get Dick and Dan," Ann assured, but she did not leave the basement. Instead she waited.
On the other side of the wall Elly Farnham turned on her hunkers and groped with an outstretched arm. She was hoping to find a solid reassuring boundary, but there was nothing solid within her reach save the cold gravelly floor and the rough side of the paneling. She thought of edging further into the space but she did not want to move even a little from the entrance. She knelt and sat back on her knees and crossed her arms holding her shoulders high and tight as she waited in the dark and listened intently for the return of her friend. Then she heard it. A scratching sound, as if something had moved on the floor behind her. She froze. Wide eyed, she listened. There was no other sound, but she knew something was in there with her. Terror rose inside her. She opened her mouth wide, but no sound emerged. Then something pulled gently on the green ribbon in her hair. The scream came. It was full and piercing.
"Get me out! Get me out! Get me out! Sweet Mother of Jesus, get me out. Get me out!" She began to bang at the paneling repeatedly with her fists all the while crying out for release.
"Elly, it’s OK. It’s only me!" Gerald tried to reassure. But it was useless.
Ann was already working on the paneling, her quick fingers finding the familiar lifting positions automatically as she too tried to comfort her friend.
"Elly, it’s just Gerald. It’s just Gerald."
Ann removed the second panel and the girl slumped out gasping. When the third one was out of the way, she scrambled onto the floor of the basement. Gerald climbed out behind her and crossed the room to the light switch. The illumination changed everything.
Elly Farnham looked around taking it all in. The stairs, the door at the top, the now black windows, a discarded skipping rope strewn on the floor. A book shelf with some well thumbed monthly editions of adventure and derring-do. The gas meter in the corner. She was back. She pulled herself to her feet and looked at the friend who had conspired to set her up.
"That was great!" she declared.
Ann O’Reilly smiled, let out a big sigh of relief and looked to her brother.
"Well," he said polishing one of the glasses in his spectacles with a white handkerchief, "I better get back in. It’s nearly seven. Dick will be here with his friend any minute."
"It’s all right. I told him to wait in the garden till I came to get him," Ann assured. "But we better get set up."
Then Elly Farnham surprised the pair.
"Can I do it? Please, it was supposed to be me."
Ann checked silently with Gerald.
"I don’t mind," he said.
* * *
Ann and her brother walked half way down their large garden and stopped. At first they could see neither their young brother Dick nor his friend, Dan Breen. This was not because neither of them were present but because of the throng of little children which Dick had gathered to hear the ghost. "Dick!" Ann called to summon the ring leader. He emerged from the crowd flanked by Dan Breen.
"C’mon," she said, "bring Dan in."
"They’re all coming," Dick replied. "They all want to hear the ghost." Ann and Gerald shared another glance.
"All right," she said. "But tell them all to be quiet."
Dick O'Reilly led Dan Breen and a hushed multitude of small children behind his older sister and brother. The silent snake of children left the dewy grass and negotiated the silhouette of the concrete shed near the house, then it filed into O’Reillys’ through the side door.
Not a word was uttered as the troop descended the stone stairs to the candle lit basement, which was all but filled by the throng. The only sound to be heard was that of settling as little feet shuffled to find their place when those in front of them stopped. Soon they were all in and stillness descended on the gathering. Dan Breen had not left Dick’s side. Ann looked over the hushed crowd. Then she raised her candle high eli
citing several audible gasps from the multitude. Little fingers began to find each other as friends drew close. Ann turned to the wall. There was a definite ripple of anticipation as she tapped three times and then called out, "Ghost, ghost, are you there? Are you there?"
For a moment none of the visitors dared even to breath. All eyes were on the wooden wall.
"Wooo, wooo I’m here. I’m…." Elly Farnham started from behind the paneling.
Pandemonium erupted in an instant and the scramble to get out of the basement was accompanied by screaming and crying and flailing of little limbs. Dan Breen was among those calling for his mother as he fought his way to the stairs. The three O’Reillys stood and stared with satisfaction at the spectacle in their basement as Elly Farnham continued to utter guttural ghostly moans from her secret hiding place.
* * *
It was a long time before Ann O’Reilly could pass unmolested on Vernon Avenue or any of its adjoining roads. To set foot outside of her own garden was to risk the ire of someone’s mother. She didn’t even know some of the women who accosted her, as their children where friends of Dick’s and far too young to interest her. Mass was a nightmare for weeks and if summoned by her mother to go to the shop at the end of the road, she would run all the way there and all the way home least she fall foul of the ever waving fingers.
The ghost of Vernon Avenue never made another sound, but to this day a dusty green ribbon lies on the floor in the dark space behind the wall paneling in the basement of what used to be home to the O’Reillys, when they lived in Woodside, Vernon Avenue, Clontarf, Dublin.
About the Author
Jean Cross lives in the beautiful county of Mayo in the West of Ireland. Her cottage is so small that she can vacuum all of it from one socket. As yet she has written one book, The Boots of Saint Felicity. This adventure is set in Splickety Village and you can visit it, have a look around, meet some of the people and read the local newspaper at https://thebootsofsaintfelicity.com
Read an excerpt from Jean Cross' The Boots of Saint Felicity.
Grunge is the New Cool
By Tess Oliver
Amy laced up her new riding boots. She stood and nodded with approval at her spectacularly clad feet. So far, her first day at summer camp had been perfect. She’d managed to land the stack of pancakes with the most maple syrup, her cabin had a great view of the boys’ camp, and she’d won the coin toss for the top bunk. But the real test of the day was still to come, and it had nothing to do with pancakes or bunk beds. In a few minutes, Amy would find out which horse would be hers for the week. Everyone wanted Silky. Silky was a beautiful palomino with a thick, white mane and luxurious tail. Anyone looked good sitting on Silky.
Megan walked in from breakfast clean-up duty. Her mouth dropped open. "Are those your new boots? I’m jealous." She tromped over to her bunk, slid out her duffle bag, and rummaged through her clothes. With a sigh she pulled out a pair of red cowboy boots.
Amy fought to hold back a grin. "Didn’t you wear those—"
"On Halloween?" Megan finished for her. "Yes, they were part of my costume." She sat down hard on her bunk. "It’s so humiliating. And worst of all, they don’t actually fit."
Amy came and sat next to her. "I do seem to remember you tripping over your feet a couple of times at Jen’s costume party."
Megan reached in and pulled a rolled-up sock out of the toe of the boot. "I’ve got to stuff the toes so they stay on my feet." She flopped back on the bed. "My life sucks."
"Come on, Megan, they’re not that bad," Amy said. "And once you’re in the saddle, you won’t have to worry about tripping."
Amy couldn’t wait to ride. She’d taken lessons all year, and she was determined to leave Kaitlyn Archer, the camp big shot, eating her trail dust. Amy imagined herself cantering confidently down the trail on fabulous Silky. She’d imagined herself waving and flashing a confident smile at the boys as they stopped their soccer game to stare in awe as she floated by.
Megan slipped on her boots and frowned down at them. "I guess I’m ready. With my luck, I’ll probably end up with Patch. He’s the perfect horse for my hideous boots." Patch was a squat, brown horse with a shabby coat and a splash of white on his butt. One of his ears had a small chink taken out of it. Patch was grunge on four legs. And that was not the worst thing about the horse. He was mean.
Amy slipped her a sympathetic smile, and they bounded down the cabin steps.
The soft snorts of horses and the warm, earthy smell of the barn area greeted them as they reached the corral.
Amy hopped up on tiptoes to peer over the white fence of the paddock. "There’s Silky," she sighed. The mare was nibbling tiny patches of grass until the horse next to her swung its head at her with pinned ears and bared teeth. It was Patch. "I see Patch is still suffering from his personal space issues. My new shoes are going to bring me luck, Megan. You watch. I’m going to ride Silky this week."
"Ha! Fat chance." Kaitlyn walked by with her fawning entourage. She, too, wore new riding boots. They were the tall, sleek black boots.
"Those boots would look really good on someone with long legs," Amy called to her.
Megan laughed behind her hand. "Hey, they’re picking names."
Amy closed her eyes tightly and clenched her hands into fists. "Please, please, please let it be Silky," she whispered. She was not sure how long she’d stood there with closed eyes, but by the time she’d opened them, seven of the girls had already been matched with horses. Only Silky, Patch, and Ole Molly remained.
"Megan Fisher," the camp leader called out, "you will ride Ole Molly."
"Figures." Megan’s shoulders slumped as she plodded toward the swayback horse standing at the mounting block.
"At least it isn’t Patch," Amy called after her trying to sound enthusiastic. Poor Megan, Amy thought. Then it dawned on her. Only Silky and Patch were left. She scanned the corral. The only other girl without a horse was Kaitlyn. Amy’s stomach climbed into her throat. This was it. The moment she’d been waiting for all year. Silky was hers. She clicked the heels of her boots together hoping they would bring a little magic.
"Amy Walker," the counselor called out her name, and Amy swallowed hard. "You will be riding Patch." She froze in disappointment. How could that be? Kaitlyn squealed as if she had just won a beauty pageant, and Amy had received the crappy runner-up award.
Amy shuffled in a cloudy haze of disbelief to the mounting block. Kaitlyn raced ahead to Silky. Amy’s new boots felt like lead weights as she dragged herself up the steps of the block.
Becky, the lady who ran the stables, was wearing her red checked cowboy shirt and white straw hat. She smiled at Amy. "So you’re the lucky girl who gets to ride Patch this week."
Was she being sarcastic? How could she be so mean? "I’m the lucky one all right," Amy muttered.
"You sure are. In his younger days, Patch was a star. This old guy could chase down a calf faster than any horse twice his size."
Amy plopped herself into the saddle and stared down at Patch’s neck. There were several bald places where he’d rubbed his mane out. His damaged ear looked like someone had forgotten to put the last piece in the pony puzzle.
"You let Patch know who’s boss right from the start," Becky advised.
The string of horses fell automatically into a single file line. Naturally, Patch and Ole Molly dropped to the end of the pack. Amy could see the satiny sheen of Silky’s mane up near the front of the group.
Even though she was stuck with Patch, Amy tried to enjoy the ride. The fields were covered with tiny yellow and purple wildflowers, and the sky was a rich shade of blue. The usual clump of afternoon clouds helped to cool the summer heat.
Amy was determined to pull herself out of her grouchy mood. After all, being at camp and riding a horse, any horse, was still better than watching her two younger brothers throw their smelly socks at each other as they fought over which video game to play.
The lead horse had picked up to a trot and A
my couldn’t hold back a smile as Patch picked up his pace. She glanced back to see if Megan was all right. The only time she ever rode was at summer camp. She was bouncing all over the saddle, but she seemed to be having fun. Amy faced forward again and realized they were nearing the boys’ camp. Some of the guys were out playing soccer. She could see Justin’s tall, blond head amongst them. Amy had been in love with Justin Carter since the third grade. He’d only grown more in glorious cuteness since then. Then Amy reminded herself that she was sitting on grungy Patch at the back of the line and Justin would never notice her, especially with Kaitlyn and her fancy boots and beautiful horse leading the way.
The line of talkative girl riders grew quiet as they rode past the boys. The boys took a second from their soccer game to blow a few whistles and howls toward the girls. Amy could see Kaitlyn sitting tall and proud on Silky and felt like melting into the saddle. Out of the corner of her eye, Amy could see Justin’s cloud of blond hair float down the field as he ran to kick the ball. Boom! The soccer ball shot up in the air, arced over the fence, and headed straight for the horses.
The horses lifted their heads in curiosity. Then the perfect line of horses scattered. Silky went straight up on her back legs, and Kaitlyn slid to the ground with a thump. The counselors were trying to calm the agitated animals and riders. Amy reached down and patted Patch’s neck. While the other horses were freaking out, Patch stood calm like a steady warhorse.
Suddenly, Megan screamed. Ole Molly was trotting quickly across the field and away from the trail. Megan flopped around in the saddle like a rag doll.
"Sit back and pull the reins!" Amy shouted. But her friend was too scared.
Amy pulled Patch’s head toward the field and kicked him into a lope. Patch seemed to know instinctively what they were doing. They rode up alongside of Ole Molly just as Megan lost her stirrup. Amy reached over and pulled back on Megan’s reins. Both horses came to an abrupt halt. Megan’s face was as pale as snow as she pushed her foot back into the stirrup. She gave Amy a silent look of thanks, and they walked back to the trail.
"You are a great rider," Megan said, her voice still shaky.
"Patch helped." Amy reached down and gave the horse a hearty rub. "I’m the luckiest girl at camp."
