Still unimpressed, and growing rather impatient, she went in to seek Jimmy who she had suspected to be jokingly hiding inside by the front door. But as she courteously closed the door behind her, it latched shut. James lived on happily, but never forgiving himself for that fateful day; he had safely climbed out the rear window while no one was looking.

The door had not been opened since.

Many children speculated that this was just a story that parents concocted to frighten their children to stay away from the place, as its floor boards had most likely deteriorated to the point of being extremely dangerous. But the class of 1953 had never forgotten that fateful August day, and especially not Gertrude.

Sixteen years later the boldest and eldest of the fourth graders was Jimmy, who had been held back repeatedly and was constantly ridiculed for being dressed strangely by his mother. The epitome of dumb brute force, his large forehead was like that of a bison, and his jaw was like that of a bulldog.