Dad pulled our station wagon up to the hotel, we hopped out and started to explore.
“Watch yourselves. There’s probably rattlesnakes and ghosts and stuff.”
Ghosts? Wow, we thought. Jennie took the lead.
“I bet there’s a old player-piano somewhere around here.”
All we found were rusted cans and old bed springs.
“You think the painted ladies bounced around on these?”
A dry wind blew through shredded curtains, moth-eaten to look like lace.
“Maybe they stashed their nest eggs under the floorboards?”
Jennie spied something shiny and reached through the gap.
“I’ve almost got it. Just a little bit further.”
The ghost town has one more ghost, now.
Dad wrecked the station wagon driving home drunk one night.
He stumbled away, turned and watched it burn.