The Haunting of Spill House

Julian and I wrote the framework of this story over some Bueno Y Sano nachos while John danced hip-hop next door.  Our first story The Scary Derriery focused on potty talk.  The second was about a kid who can’t stop picking scabs.  This following is a short one warning kids what happens when kids don’t pick up after themselves.


Mary and Edgar Hallahan kept a clean house.  One hundred years before Magic Erasers and Tilex they battled dirt and grime in their own way and loved every second of it. They adored their country manor so much that when they died, they stayed. In 1912, they were laid to rest under six feet of dirt but they continued on as the home’s quiet, invisible caretakers.

For the next one hundred and six years they quietly watched other families love and nurture the home. The Hallahan’s would assist where they could and were so silent no resident knew they had ghosts for roomies. However, that peaceable coexistence ended when the Farber’s moved in. There were Mother and Father Farber and their sons Frankie and Freddie Farber.  The boys were six and seven and as the ghosts would learn they had the unfortunate habit not having any good habits.  They left toys out, the smelled a little weird and broke nearly everything anyone had gifted them.

The Faber’s were so sloppy that Mary and Edgar haunted the house completely accidentally.  They didn’t want to scare the living daylights out of the Farber family (at first) but there was no avoiding it.

It all began when Mary happened up Frankie Faber picking, flicking and licking boogers in the living room. She, like anyone living or dead would do, reflexively moaned, “EWWWW.”

Frightened by the ghostly holler, Frankie rolled off the couch in surprise; finger still lodged in his nasal cavity. While the embarrassed Mary floated away with her invisible hands covering her invisible mouth.

Later that week, Edgar was adjusting a painting on the wall in the upstairs hallway.  He didn’t notice Freddie’s skateboard at the top of the stairs because there has never been any object left at the top of the stairs especailly one with wheels.  So, when he turned around to go downstairs he stepped on the board and skated halfway down before tumbling and landing at the bottom with a thud. Edgar was, of course, unharmed but the didn’t stop him from shouting, “Blazes I’m such a floozler.”

The sloppy joe eating family put their sandwiches paused to investigate but found only a skateboard.  “What’s a floozler?” Franker Farber asked.  His parents shrugged fearfully.

The following day. The boys were painting in the family room unsupervised for just two minutes before taking off. They left the paint opened on the floor and table.  Again, Edgar unaware there’d be can of paint on the floor accidentally kicked it.  The red paint exploded over the white carpet and walls. His eyes opened twice as wide as a living person could at the ghastly scene. When tried to clean it up, he left footprints and smeared the paint.  Unable to pick up a towel he tried to wipe it off with a skeletal hand but instead left large red hand prints. Not easy to do hardcore cleaning as a ghost he learned.  Later, when Mother Farber came into the room she screamed a blood-curdling scream seeing the adult handprints in what looked like blood and adult shoe prints over the rug.  It looked as if she had stumbled upon a murder scene.

The Farber family’s first and only week in the home came to an abrupt end when the boys decided to play amateur scientist with multiple gallons of vinegar and several boxes baking soda.  The result was sticky, foamy explosions.  One was so large they tried to move it outside before they’d get in trouble. While running with the vats outside they ran into Ethan and Mary who were sipping ghost tea outside on the patio.  The tacky concoction spilled over the friendly ghost and found themselves half-covered and therefore half visible.  The boys screamed and ran inside  When the parents came to the kitchen to see what the fuss was about they came face to half-face with the ghosts, spun around and ran away.

“How Rude,” Mary says pulling pieces of the oatmeal-like substance from her face.  “Do you think they’ll return to clean this mess, dear?”
“I fear not, dear,” Edgar responds.
“I hope the next owners are tidy,” Mary says.
“If they are not,” Edgar takes Mary’s hand. “A haunting we will go.”

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