It is bright spring day. A brisk wind tosses through the playground, carrying the young voices high into the air. Most of the children play ship on the jungle gym. Some others are engaged in an exciting game of kickball. Still others play on the tire swings, pushing each other and playing “Ping Pong” until their eyes swim from dizziness. But only a few, maybe two or three, linger near right side of the playground. It is generally deserted, avoided at all costs.
The house sits on a small hill, enclosed by a barbed wire and thick bushes. On any given day, if you come too close you will hear the whispers of the house, creaking and shuddering, warning the young ones of the dangers hidden within.

A girl and a boy stand several feet from the fence, fidgeting uneasily.

“Dare you to go in.” An eight-year-old boy whispers. The girl next to the boy eyes the fence.

“Why, are you too scared?” She retorts.

“No, I dared you first.” He says.

The girl clenches her fist. But inside of her she wants to go. She wants to break the barrier and see what no one else will see. She wants to exterminate her fear.

The girl takes a step forward and clenches her first. Then slowly, she lightly places several fingers on the barbed wire. She takes a glance back at the boy who is watching fearfully. The next moment, she has scaled the fence and dropped onto the other side.

It is silent, the voices of the children muffled by the thick bushes. The boy shouts at her, but she ignores him. Where are you going, girl? A woman’s voice seems to whisper. Turn around child, a man’s pained voice echoes through the air.

The girl knows what she is hearing. Bloody Mary and Tom. Everyone in Malcolm S. Mackay Elementary School knows exactly what happened within the walls of the red house the girl stands before. Bloody Mary killed Tom ten times. She stabbed Tom with a knife ten times. Bloody Mary’s ten husbands have portraits hung up on her walls, all wearing deathly knife wounds. Children who strayed too far lie starving on her floor.

Bloody Mary is the ghostly queen of mirrors. She will kill you if you take even the slightest glimpse in the mirror at 1:00 am. Your mirror will begin dripping in blood, and then you will see Bloody Mary’s haggard reflection staring back at you. By then, you have no hope. Bloody Mary is the wraith of dark bathrooms. If you are alone in the bathroom, never turn the lights off. Never spin ten times, eyes closed, in front of the mirror with your forefinger pointed out. Because if you chance to be pointing at the mirror when you open your eyes, you will see the blood of her victims again and her face peering back at you. At that point, you will have no hope. She will kill you in your sleep that very night.

The girl places a foot forward, heart beating heavily. Her fists are clenched at her sides and she feels a growing trepidation. She steps forward a few more agonizing inches and suddenly notices a basement door. It lies open slightly and is loosely bound by a chain. The black jaws yawn out at her as the wind blows. It groans slightly.

Heart in mouth, the girl whips around and flees, her feet scrambling against the barbed fence, her hands cutting into the thorns in multiple places. She feels her beaded bracelet snap and sprinkle into the tall grass. She knows the bracelet is lost to her forever.

Flee, youngster, flee, Tom’s voice calls out to her. Flee. The girl lands heavily on her hands and knees on the other side, and the boy immediately runs toward her and yanks her away from the fence. No questions are asked. The two run as far away from the red house as possible, to the jungle gym on the other side.

I will get you, girl. Bloody Mary’s voice rips a tunnel through the air. Tonight.