*This is the short story I entered in my 4-H project of Creative Writing.
*Warning: Longer than the average post 
Miss McGuffy
The recently stationed Reverend Chambers, dressed in his habitual black suit, strode down the main street with the poise of a parson and yet with the aura of a lord. He carried his prideful brow as firm as the large leather Bible beneath his arm, while his step contributed to the overall profound image he was aware he was making. His thick nest of black hair sat awkwardly upon his forehead, and his overall features seemed to be lacking a sense of life. He was pale, he never smiled, and he spoke with a voice as uninteresting as a cow.
Benjamin, the boarding house manager, saw the reverend making his way down the street as he swept the rickety front porch. He called out to him, knowing that the reverend did not like to be stopped when he was so intently headed for a destination, “Are you making another visit,?”
“Yes,” he replied with a sigh, “to a Miss McGuffy. A friend asked if I would go call on her, for she respects men in my profession and is sort of a lonely woman. He thought that the visit from myself would do her some good. Are you acquainted with her?”
“Ol Katy? Yes, she comes into town once a month and buys a small load of supplies, but as silent as she comes, she goes away. She owns nothing but her old farmhouse, has no family to speak of, and lives all by herself across from Hanson’s Lake. A few people have tried to visit her, yet she makes it clear that she isn’t fond of company.”
“She must have something joyful about her spirit. Surely she can’t be a cast out by desire?”
“She does like the children of the town, and the ministers. So, Mr. Chambers you should be in the good company of profession when you visit Miss Katy.” Benjamin heartily smiled to his proud friend and left him to go about his business, which Reverend Chambers was glad to continue.
He walked with the same prideful gait for a near two miles until he reached the spinster’s home that seated itself on a minute hill. Reverend Chambers, somewhat tired after his journey, was too proud to admit that he desired a rest and a good conversation, so he pushed himself up the lane leading to Miss McGuffy’s door with steps as a crane; slow but long in stride.
The house was tall and regal, the white paint chipping from every board and shingle, with a great bell tower that was boarded up and covered with ivy. A wide porch wrapped itself around the entire house and a few pear trees dotted her lawn.
Once on the porch, Mr. Chambers rapped upon the door with his thick knuckles and stood eagerly for a few moments until he heard footsteps and then found himself before a slender elderly lady who was holding a tabby cat in her arms.
“Miss McGuffy, I am the new minister Reverend Chambers. I was hoping to get to visit with you for a while to learn more about the people I will be serving.” Taking off his hat, he tried to smile and encourage the woman of his visit, but his smile was painfully unattractive, yet after a few moments, Miss McGuffy nodded her head and opened the screen door.
When Hezekiah Chambers walked into Miss McGuffy’s parlor, he was astonished to find it well furnished and complete with exotic treasures from foreign travels and the latest inventions of technology. She had a telephone on the wall, a phonograph playing a whimsical symphony on the top of her fireplace, and it looked as if she had been experimenting with photography as he saw the familiar stance of a box camera in the other room. She led him to her sitting room and he sat himself on a couch opposite what looked like her favourite chair, for its seat was worn and the shape had adjusted to fit a tiny woman, whose impression could still be seen against the back.
She seated him then disappeared for a few minutes into the kitchen, while Mr. Chambers did his best to observe everything he could from his chair. A few conventional items were in Miss McGuffy’s house, but he noticed more than the average supply of things not seen elsewhere but in the homes of those grand families. Miss McGuffy had three large portraits in ornate frames hanging above her fireplace, two busts of men sitting near her entry, and elaborate curtains, paperings, and carpets. She appeared to live humbly from the outside, but her lifestyle when none were concerned was grand and full of wealth.
Cheerful and calm, Miss McGuffy returned with a silver tea set that she sat in front of Mr. Chambers and patiently waited for him to speak. He noticed that she carried a rosy complexion that she did not have when she first invited him in, and that her mouth seemed to be suppressing a small smile. They sat together in an awkward silence for a few moments while the phonograph filled the room with a background of violins.
“Miss McGuffy, I am sorry to have come unannounced, but I felt a desire to meet the most beloved citizen of our fair town. I have heard many respectful things about you and have eagerly awaited to create a standing friendship between us.”
“I too, Reverend Chambers,” she replied, her inherited Scottish accent slipped through her words as she spoke. “I don’t get company very often, but I do enjoy a cup of tea with a fine person of character.”
“Agreeably so Miss McGuffy.”
“My late brother lived with me for some years before he died, and I was so fond of his profound company. He enjoyed the philosophies of the ancient historians and would often read to me the great classics of literature aloud before the fire.”
“I am sorry that you had to bear such a loss of wise companionship, but I am glad that you were able to be blessed with such a companion and brother.” Miss McGuffy bowed her head gratefully and poured a cup of simmering tea. Reverend Chambers sat his Bible upon his knee and looked around once again at the lovely things adorning her home.
Suddenly, a young boy about ten wearing a safari hat, bolted down the stairs and out through the kitchen door without saying a word. Reverend Chambers noticed how misbehaved the child was in the presence of a minister, and shook his head slightly.
“Really, Miss McGuffy, who is that child’s guardian? He is quite unruly,” he stated as he took the cup of tea prepared for him. Miss McGuffy looked up almost quizzically.
“Is that young vagabond messing with my chickens again?”
“What? No, the young boy that just passed through the house. He is quite rambunctious if I must say so. Most children have the manners of a saint when in the presence of a reverend.” Miss McGuffy tried to brush off the comment and she continued to mix the cream into her tea.
Reverend Chambers started again, his ruffled feathers now settling down, “Miss McGuffy, you seem like a fascinating woman, and seeing your home decorated as it is, may I inquire something? How did you come to own such treasures?”
“Oh Reverend!” chuckled Miss McGuffy, “I used to travel with my late brother and his grandson, Oswald. He was such a dear boy. We traveled to Egypt, Paris, Peru, and New Zealand collecting relics of every sort until we came back to America and settled in this house. Oswald grew to love the old tower that you must’ve seen when you came.”
“I did see it, but it was boarded up.”
“We were ordered to board up the tower when Oswald came down with the fever. He had contracted a disease from our last destination in Africa. We left and came home, but the incubation for the disease was fulfilled the day after we arrived. We buried him in his safari hat, for he loved Africa more than any other place on this earth.”
The Reverend Chambers stopped sipping his tea and widened his black eyes curiously as he remembered that the boy he had seen was wearing a safari hat, and yet Miss McGuffy had not acknowledged him. “How long ago was this unfortunate occurrence Miss McGuffy?”
“Seventeen years ago Reverend. Sometimes I can still hear his little feet pattering down those stairs. He was such a wild little boy.” Slowly the Reverend thought it over, and pondered his sanity and eyesight for minutes until he mentally concluded that he was just seeing things. Then the maid came in.
Reverend Chambers noticed the bun of curly red hair and the freckled cheeks immediately and smiled as she began to organize a few items and then went back into the kitchen to check on what smelt like fresh cinnamon bread. He continued on with his conversation and tried to forget the young boy he saw. He and Miss McGuffy continued to talk while the maid cooked and cleaned, and Miss McGuffy continued with her stories of travel and the memoirs of her past years.
“My mother and father were lively people with such spirits for adventure, in a time where dullness was etiquette, which is probably where George, Oswald, and I received our traveling natures and mischievous characters.”
“How lovely. Family dynamics are so important in heritage. Excuse me Miss McGuffy, may I beg you to ask your maid for some more tea,” Reverend Chambers motioned towards the maid that stood in the kitchen baking.
“I wish I could Reverend Chambers, yet I haven’t had a maid since a year. Poor thing died mysteriously. There was never a maid like her, so red and plump with a good hand for cooking. However, I can get the tea for you myself,” offered Miss McGuffy with a smile. (The phonograph now seemingly played a melody of suspense and mystery which offered to Reverend Chambers a canon to aid in his own theatrical which was slowly filling with suspense and mystery.) He shook his hand in refusal and then looked once more into the kitchen, and to his astonishment, he saw the young boy who had before ran through the house, tugging on the skirt of the maid, who had apparently died the year before, for a piece of bread.
Reverend Chambers’ eyes nearly popped out in the sudden bout of worry that overcame him, the same worry he had suppressed when he heard of the dead little boy. He was in an eerie home where the elderly lady who he visited had a maid and young grandnephew running about the house when both were dead. His forehead began to sweat as he realized that it was not his sight that was playing tricks, but it was the spiritual world. Clammy and shaky, the Reverend’s hands sat down the cup and grabbed his hat in one swift motion. He looked at Miss McGuffy to see if she noticed his troubledness yet the old woman just continued to sip and look about the room.
“Miss McGuffy, are you well physically?” he stuttered, keeping a firm eye on the maid and boy.
“Why yes Reverend Chambers,” she replied slowly, “Doctor Jameson came by the other day and told me that I was in the best of health. He mentioned specifically that I have a superiority of mind at my age.” Miss McGuffy smiled heartily and then watched as Reverend Chambers jumped out of his seat and ran hastily out of the door and disappeared behind the bend without a moment of breath. His thick legs shuffled as fast as he could. And distinctly, he could hear Miss McGuffy’s phonograph now playing a lively tune that coincided with his present situation.
If the reverend had looked back he would have seen the little elderly woman laughing hysterically behind the parlor curtains along with the red haired maid, and the little boy who still wore his safari hat. Each one was scarlet with laughter and added another notch to their list of reverends that had run out of their door with the thought that Miss McGuffy was a woman who lived with the ghosts, and that suited her.
