The Ghost Window

The Ghost Window

By Mary L. Cryns

1,567 Words

It was 1966 in San Francisco when the gang and I met on our front porch after school. This was my favorite time of day: school over, no parents around, and we could do anything we wanted for at least a couple of hours.

Wisps of fog drifted in from the ocean as it did almost every day during the summer.

My house was on Second Avenue, a street crowded with Victorians and old buildings. Second Avenue ended at Lincoln Way and Golden Gate Park. The triangle of grass, bushes, and trees of that park stretched before us. Golden Gate Park our own giant backyard and hangout area.

But that day, we were on the porch, our other hang-out area

Behind us, our flat. It was built in 1908, right after the big San Francisco Earthquake of 1906. My family lived on the second floor. The Maputi family lived upstairs. Ours was called a railroad flat because a long, dark hallway stretched from one end to the other, and all the rooms were off the hallway. Sometimes that hallway served as a skating rink. We would slide down it in stocking feet. Other times, our hallway was creepy – always dark because there was only one window near the den which looked out onto an alleyway.

David Hirrell from around the corner sat on the left stoop, his longish brown hair hanging in front of his chubby face. He was way bigger and heavier than the rest of us and the president of all clubs and the leader of the pack. His wiry younger brother, Barry Hirrell, sat close to him on the marble steps and kicked at a step with his cowboy boots. They looked as different as night day, and it was hard to believe they were brothers. Michael, my brother who was just a year younger than me, also sat on the steps but was next to my sister Jennifer. Michael was skinny, wiped his nose a lot, and always looked like he was in deep thought about something (how to show this). Jennifer was tiny and cute with brown hair and huge blue eyes. It seemed like everyone in the neighborhood loved her and called her Jenny Pooh. Then there was Ricky Solis, one of the six Solis boys from up the street. Ricky had wavy black hair and dark skin and eyes, He sat on the stoop too. He and Michael were best friends, which seemed odd because they were so different. Ricky often hung out at our flat until it was time to go home. He was a tough, smart kid whom I admired because he wasn’t afraid of anything. His five brothers also hung out with us, but today it was just Ricky. His stingray bike with the banana seat leaned against the stoop.

I was holding my favorite book of all time. The Witch Family by Eleanor Estes. I read it several times and never tired of the fantasy mixed with reality.

“Why do you always have that book?” David Hirrell asked.

He pointed to the tattered large paperback book with the green and white cover and an illustration of the old witch and the little witch girl forced to live on Ice Mountain with the old witch and her cat.

 “Because I like it.”

“Oh, leave it alone,” Michael said.

“What do you want to do today?” Ricky asked.

“I don’t know, what do you want to do?” Michael answered.

We always asked each other this for a while before we figured out where to go or what game to play. Would it be Star Trek this time? Or maybe we would all be superheroes today? Or maybe we’d just hang out at the Greens across the street?

I opened my book and read about the old witch who was banished by Amy and Clarissa to live on an ice mountain.

 “Oh no, look!” Barry said.

His eyes were as wide as saucers. He pointed to the window with the long white curtains. There was always something about that living room window that none of us could explain.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Ricky said.

 We all peered at the window. The front part of our living room jutted out a little bit.

The curtains moved.

 I jumped inside my skin.

“I think I did,” Barry whispered.

“It’s just the wind,” David said. “You’re an idiot!”

“But the windows aren’t open,” Michael looked as scared as Barry. “And it does get creepy in there sometimes, especially near that window.”

Michael was right. Sometimes I felt as if someone was watching me while I sat in the nicest room in our flat, the living room with the Chickering piano, the record player, and candelabra adorning the fancy marble fireplace. I always felt like something or someone stared at me, and it was always next to that same window. And it didn’t help that Mom told us stories of ghosts which she believed in and that she knew our flat was haunted.

David laughed. “Aw, come on! Nobody’s in there.”

“I thought I heard a piano play!” Jennifer piped in.

“No, you didn’t,” said David. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”

“But – but,” Barry looked doubtful.

“Are you chicken?”

I fumbled with the key that hung around my neck. I was responsible for keeping track of the key so we could get into the flat when Mom or Dad wasn’t around. I was frightened, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was a chicken.

I walked to the door, pushed the key into the lock, turned it. The latch gave way. I opened the door.

I looked over my shoulder at the gang. They all stood, shoulder to shoulder, looking into the house.

I went in.

They followed behind.

Everything looked normal – a long, dark hallway with hardly any light.

“What’s that?” Michael asked. He was the one who was closest behind me. “Did you hear it?”

“Hear what?” David said.

A swooshing noise from the living room.

I peeked around the corner into the living room with candelabra on a pillared mantelpiece, which often formed rainbows on the ceiling, the Victrola, couch, French antique chair, and blue cushioned chair. It was the nicest room in the entire flat.

A curtain rustled.  

We crept down the dark hallway, huddling close. Past our bedroom and into the kitchen, we stopped.  My pet guinea pig, Timmy, was in his cage munching on sunflower seeds. He squealed.

“See! It was probably just Timmy!” I said.

I ran over, unhooked the door, and scooped Timmy into my hands. He was a black and white guinea pig with a white stripe that went from his nose to the top of his head. He made soft, squealing noises.

The others closed in and pet him.

“Swoosh!”

Everyone looked up, eyes wide.

“What was that?”

I don’t know.”

 “I’m getting out of here!” Ricky said. He beelined for the front door.

I had been leading but followed now. A plastic bucket sat next to a bookcase by the door. I grabbed the handle, dropped Timmy in.  

I remembered all the ghost stories Mom told us and how she hung a small cross by the front door to keep evil spirits out. “That way, only the good spirits will hang out,” she had assured us.

We sounded like a stampede as we ran out the door, down the steps to the sidewalk.

“I thought I heard someone play the piano,” Michael said.

“Someone’s in there,” David said.

“What do we do now?” I asked. “Should I get a hold of Mom?”

“No! They can’t help us now! We’ll get help at the Park Police Station.”

We all ran as a group towards the Park Police Station, a creamy white building located close to the Greens where we played and Kezar Stadium. They would help us if someone was hiding in our house.

We burst into the police station and we were greeted by a policeman dressed all in dark blue wearing a star like a sheriff on his chest, greeted us at the front door. “What is it this time kids?” We’d been there before.

“We think there’s someone in our house!” I didn’t say that there could be a ghost, just that someone might be in our house because we heard noises.

A police officer followed us back to our flat because it wasn’t far from the station. I unlocked the door for him, and we all watched as he burst into the flat and searched every room. He kicked at a closet door and opened it real fast and took his gun out of the holster – just like they do in the movies.

“Wow!” Ricky said.

“Well, kids, the coast is clear!” the police officer said. “You can go in there now. Now be careful,” he said.

We were in awe of the police officer who gave us a great show. But we also knew there was probably a ghost in our flat who liked to hang out in the living room and sometimes played a few notes on the piano and move the curtain.