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 commotion 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.”