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A Ghost’s Baseball

  By Michael James Brogdon

  A Ghost’s Baseball

  Michael James Brogdon

  Copyright Michael James Brogdon 2011

  Dedicated to my sister, Mom, Dad, and fourth grade teacher Ms. Babson. Also, my dog Casey. She’s sitting here scratching her ear so I just had to.

  A Ghost’s Baseball

  By Michael James Brogdon

  “Why do you always walk home from school? You’re two miles away.” Dwayne always walked home with Charlie. Charlie does live two miles away but walking holds off homework. “Why do you walk home all the time? I bet it’s not reasonable.”

  “My teacher doesn’t give a lot of homework and my parents don’t have to pay four-hundred dollars for the bus pass.” Dwayne said in a matter- of- fact tone.

  “That’s a… good… reason.” Charlie studied his ankles.

  Dwayne also lives two miles away. Actually, Charlie and Dwayne are neighbors. “Want to practice for baseball season?” Dwayne asked as they finally reached home. “I heard Rich Bremarda is trying out. He hit a ball so hard one time it hit the Dunkin Donut sign.”

  “Yeah sure,” Charlie said.

  “Unless you have homework?”

  “Ummmm….. No…?”

  “Okay.” It was a nice October day on Halloween. Their neighborhood was like any other. A straight array of houses with nice trees, clean grass… oh, and about a million Halloween decorations. Skulls peered down with cold empty eyes every single angle. Jack-o-lanterns eyed them with an evil grin. Dark decorations everywhere. Seriously, everything was black.

  “What are you going to be for Halloween?” asked Dwayne.

  “A zombie remember?” Charlie threw the ball.

  “I’m going to be a skeleton. It’s just a dark shirt with bones, but it will be dark out so I don’t think anybody will notice.” Dwayne hit the ball with force.

  “Are you going trick-or-treating at Mr. Rollon’s house?” asked Charlie.

  Mr. Rollon was an old man. He’s one of those “Get off my lawn!” types. Cranky, lonely, except for his brother, whom he didn’t talk to, even though they share a house. And he hates kids. He always tricks the children instead of giving a treat. It was better than candy. The tricks were so scary some of the teenagers got into trick-or-treating. His brother gave out baby carrots.

  “I’d have to ask,” said Dwayne. “My mom says his tricks are too scary.”

  “Let’s go,” Charlie dropped the ball.

  Inside his mom disapproved. “Absolutely not!” she cried. “You will not knock on a dead man’s door!”

  “Dead man?” Dwayne asked.

  “Yes,” his mom said in aggravation. “He died of pneumonia three months ago. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

  “No,” Dwayne said.

  “Well you won’t knock on his door. Go outside and get your mind off it.”

  They went outside. “Jeez,” Dwayne said. “My mom babies me.” Charlie picked up a ball. Dwayne picked up a bat.

  “Dude,” Charlie threw the ball. “Maybe Mr. Rollon is a ghost. Like all translucent and stuff.”

  “There’s no such thing as ghosts. I’d prove it but…”Dwayne faltered.

  “What is it? You afraid of a little ghost that will chop your head off?” Charlie mocked.

  Dwayne grunted and hit the ball. Crack! “Whoa,” Dwayne marveled, surprised by his own strength. His hands felt numb.

  “Dwayne… Dwayne!” Charlie shouted. “Look!”

  “No, no, no,” Dwayne watched as the ball rising, rising … heading right up to the window of dead old Mr. Rollon and… his brother.

  “No!”

  Except then… just then… the window opened and a voice like a sick bird screeched “What’s that racket? I’m calling the- OUCH!” the ball made contact then fell onto the doorstep in Mr. Rollon’s yard.

  Pause.

  “What,” Dwayne looked at Charlie. “Was that?”

  “Ha!” Charlie raised his fist in triumph. “I was right! Ghosts do exist! Except… I’m not sure if that’s good or not.” He looked at the open window.

  “I’m telling, you they don’t exist. I mean… look I’ll go inside and ask my mom,” said Dwayne.

  “Well?” asked Charlie when Dwayne came back outside.

  “Mr. Rollon’s brother caught pneumonia too. Apparently they were too stubborn to call an ambulance and stayed home arguing. That’s what my mom said because she didn’t have an answer to the belief in ghosts’ thing.” Dwayne picked up a bat. “Let’s keep playing.”

  But they couldn’t. Their only ball had landed on Mr. Rollon’s doorstep. After a lot of arguing and a number of noogies they walked to Mr. Rollon’s house. You wouldn’t guess the house was possibly haunted. It was normal, except for the unkempt grass, trees, bushes, and any sign of life. As their feet crunched on dead grass and leaves, Charlie wondered what would happen. Would Mr. Rollon really chop their heads off? Or do something worse? Would his brother make them eat poisoned baby carrots? But Charlie’s biggest fear was if he was proved wrong. And that was only if Dwayne was confident enough to get Charlie to go inside.

  Charlie was so lost in his thoughts he almost tripped over the doorstep. “Here’s the ball. Okay let’s go.” He started walking away but Dwayne grabbed his shirt. “We’re not leaving until I prove ghosts are real.” He reached for the door knob but it fell off before he touched it.

  “Oh no,” Charlie said. “Now we can’t get in. Too bad, so sad, let’s go.” He started to walk away, but Dwayne once again, caught him. “That was not a ghost. Let’s go through the window.” He made a move for the window, but it was Charlie who stopped him this time. “But – but - that’s trespassing!”

  Dwayne turned. “Not if you’re dead.” He started opening the window but the curtains dropped and the lock closed. “Okay,” he improvised, “chimney it is.”

  “Chimney? Chimney? Are you serious?” Charlie asked. “We’re not Santa Clause! Trick-or-treating starts in four hours, and you want to get a ladder and climb up the roof of a house that’s haunted by ghosts?”

  Dwayne opened his mouth to protest, but Charlie interrupted. “Possibly,” he added.

  “That’s exactly what I planned.” Dwayne spread out his arms.

  “Fine,” Charlie grunted. “I’ve never been on a roof before.”

  Dwayne and Charlie moved like smooth running water into the garage, each grabbing one side of the ladder and hurried out onto Mr. Rollon’s lawn. They set the ladder against the house and Charlie climbed up.

  “The ladder isn’t tall enough!” Charlie called. “I think I should get down…”

  “Not yet!” Dwayne lifted the ladder on his shoulder.

  “ARE … YOU … INSANE?!” Charlie screeched now hanging on as tight as he could on by the gutter.

  “Insane?! Everyone is, on Halloween!” Dwayne set it down, climbed up the ladder and pushed Charlie up on the roof. Then he climbed up himself.

  “It’s slippery,” Charlie got on his hands and knees, “because of the leaves. Let’s get down now.” His eyes grew wide.

  “We’re so close to the chimney. C’mon Charlie, I’ll help.” Dwayne grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and half pulled, half dragged Charlie to the chimney.

  Dwayne leapt in. As he fell he knew it wouldn’t hurt when he reached the bottom.

  FWOOMMM!

  Fire lit at the fireplace. Dwayne landed on his feet and immediately dashed around frantically. “I’M ON FIRE!!! CHARLIE! GET HELP! IT BURNS!”

  Charlie scrambled down the chimney. “AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! IT DOES BURN!!!!”

  “STOP, DROP, AND ROLL!” Dwayne screeched. They dropped on the ground and rolled as fast as they could.

  On
ce the fire went out, Charlie groaned “Can we leave now?”

  “Yeah.” Dwayne sighed. “We’d better leave. And look,” Dwayne pointed at himself. “I look just like a zombie. Like Mr. Rollon and his brother.” They laughed at this and headed for the door.

  “Not so easily, you twerps!” Dwayne and Charlie looked at each other. “Did you hear that?” asked Charlie. “I want to say no,” Dwayne looked worried.

  “You snuck into my house and ruined it!” echoed the invisible voice. “You’re in for the punishment of a lifetime!”

  “I can’t pretend I didn’t hear that.” Dwayne looked around nervously, until a rough hand grabbed his neck. “Ackk!” cried Dwayne.

  “You can’t see me… but I can see you!” The ghost cackled like a laughing hyena. Dwayne swung around clutching his throat.

  Charlie stood paralyzed. He always thought if he had a situation like this he’d stand and fight. But he felt like his feet were glued to the floor and his hands shook terribly. Move feet! Charlie urged his legs. Dwayne’s face was purple. He swung nearer and nearer to Charlie until… “OOF!” They were knocked away to the floor. Dwayne gasped and spluttered.

  “You’ll make great skeletons. The kids will love it!” There was that cackle again.

  “Brother, brother,” said a different voice. “They’re children,” it said. “Give them baby carrots. And don’t poison these ones.”

  “I knew it!” Charlie shouted. “He does poison them! Glad no one eats them.”

  “George! Enough with the baby carrots! These kids ruined the house. The trick-or-treaters will absolutely eat up this trick.” Mr. Rollon squeezed their necks tighter.

  “Just like they’ll eat up baby carrots!” George finished.

  “WOULD YOU PLEASE GIVE IT UP WITH THE CARROT THING ALREADY?!?” Mr. Rollon cried losing control. “It’s time to waste these kids. Get into the kitchen you brats.” Mr. Rollon made a shoving motion and they stumbled inside.

  “Now,” Mr. Rollon opened a draw filled with knives. He grabbed one.

  “Wait!” George screeched. “Can… you let… me have the honor?”

  “Of course dear brother. You may have the honor.”

  Charlie and Dwayne cringed. Real ghosts. Real knives. The smell of death. They looked at each other, silently communicating. Apologizing for everything they didn’t apologize for. Clearly sorry they had ever been so curious. Sorry that their parents must be worried sick when they didn’t come back for trick-or-treating. When George took out the drawer of knives and chucked it out the window. And the one knife he was holding. Charlie and Dwayne took back the apologies.

  “Sorry Bill, not today.”

  “Okay I’ll use forks.”

  Again, George threw them out the window.

  “I curse the day you were born, George!” Bill cried.

  “Same to you!”

  “Um… I second that,” Charlie squeaked.

  “Me three,” Dwayne muttered.

  “Okay then.” A latch Charlie and Dwayne hadn’t noticed opened up. It was dark, dusty, and seemed endless. For all they knew, it probably was. A sudden shove from behind locked them in. They seemed to fall in slow motion. Until finally-

  “Ungh!” They hit the ground hard.

  “Why do I see stars???” Dwayne moaned. “And how come everything is blue?” Charlie waved his hand in front of his face. “Ninety-six,” groaned George.

  “Say, is there a clock down here?” Dwayne asked, after the confusion. “We go trick-or-treating at nine-o’-clock.”

  “No,” George whined. “And isn’t that sort of late for you?”

  “Not in our neighborhood,” Charlie said. “And never mind trick-or-treating. Is there any way to get out of here?”

  “Nothing at all but that trapped door way up there.” George said.

  “Where is it?”

  “I’m pointing right at it.”

  “We can’t see your hand.”

  “Oh, right. Well we have to leave fast. Bill is going to poison everyone… I assume. He talks in his sleep. Not that I listen…” George faltered.

  “I could break the lock with my baseball,” Dwayne said. “I forgot Charlie had had it.” Charlie tossed it to him.

  “Ow!” Dwayne said.

  “Sorry. It’s dark.”

  “I was the best pitcher on my team when I was little,” George said.

  “Here,” Dwayne threw the ball.

  “Ow!”

  “It is dark.”

  George chucked the ball. Clank! “It worked!” George cried a little too loud.

  “You can’t escape! I found the knives, and I’m coming for you!” Bill screeched.

  Dwayne’s ladder clanked to the floor. Heavy footsteps came down the ladder. Dwayne ran forward and pulled it down. “Ahhh!” came three voices. Charlie, Bill, and George. Charlie lurched just before the ladder came down, but it landed on his ankle. Bill and George got completely covered. Dwayne lifted the ladder and helped Charlie climb up, while Bill and George did some creative cursing.

  They hurried toward the door and pulled out the ladder. The handle was still gone so they rammed it opened with the ladder. Quickly they dashed to their own houses (Charlie sort of limping) and pulled on their costumes. Their parents asked a lot of questions but they both answered “Just playing catch.”

  That night, as they walked past Bill and George’s house they could have sworn they heard the door open and a voice like a sick bird screeched: “Eat your candy! Once you have a taste of my baby carrots and rusty knives you’ll be sorry you ever stepped foot in this house!”

  And another different faint voice: “Traitors! You can’t see us… But we can see YOU!”

  Charlie and Dwayne trembled. This was truly the scariest Halloween they’ve ever had.

  The End