literature

Ch. 17--In Conclusion

Deviation Actions

mmpratt99's avatar
By
Published:
313 Views

Literature Text

                                                   
                                                           Ch. 17--In Conclusion


The next few months went by, and save for some hassles at work and having to buy a new set of gardening tools, were quite uneventful.  Now there were only twenty-one days before Halloween perhaps one of the greatest lines of the year in both the Mortal Territories and in Faerie.

The weather alternated between foggy drizzle and summer-like heat.  Jack-o-lanterns sat on every neighborhood stoop and fence, pastry chefs and chocolatiers decorated their shop windows with spooky-theme sweets and chocolate monster masks.  People of all sorts swarmed the streets celebrating with many a druidical rites...which included lots of wild partying and alcohol consumption.

Living in a notorious haunted house had some advantages; one--you don’t have to stock up on candy for the hordes of ragamuffins hammering on your door, even though it was the middle of the night and Halloween wasn’t until three weeks away.  Two--you don’t have to worry about these ragamuffins coming back to TP, cow pie and egg the entire property; three--I could enjoy  a moonlit evening in peace without having to socialize with some drunken greasepainted party-goers.

It happened shortly after I went to bed.  It had been a perfect autumn day, crystal blue skies, birds and crickets chirping away, not chilly or cold at all.  No major disasters happened--supernatural or otherwise.  The evening was also idyllic, comfortably cool with no fog or biting frost in sight.

As I curled up in my bed, I began to mull over the things I was planning on doing during the Halloween celebrations.  Perhaps I would go try out that new corn maze on the outskirts of town.  Maybe I would take in some of the musical acts just as long as they weren’t karaoke or rap.  Soon I was falling fast asleep, lulled by Miss Tabitha’s purring and the faint breeze outside my window.

And yet, as I drifted deeper into sleep, a thought came over me.  Wait, that breeze sounded more like breathing.  No, no, that couldn’t be breathing...could it?

Laying motionless, I listened but heard only the normal sounds of night tine--the gentle ticking of the wall clock, the old house setting, the cat steadily purring.  My pulse slowed though my skin prickled with goosebumps.  Why was so cold in here?  Did I close the window?  Of course I did.  So why I feel cold then?

Then the footsteps began, a soft shuffling, and mixed with that a faint rustling of silk.

Oh crude!

“Mademoiselle Felidae.”

Steps drew near.  I tried to move, but couldn’t.  My limbs were frozen stiff, still wrapped in the heavy web of sleep.

“Ma chère fille.”

The footsteps halted.  Instead of cold air, I felt on my cheek a breeze that smelled of rose blossoms.  Then a sibilant whispery sounded in my ear, “Je t'aime.”

Panicked, I shot up in bed and flailed around for the lamp chain.

“Sod this!” I cried. “I’m through!  I’m totally through!”

I spent the rest of the night packing and left around the crack of dawn.  I never went back even after I heard the house burned down.

Would of went on with my life until you guys showed up with that picture.  That picture you snapped that was supposed to show a burnt-out ruin.  He’s still there apparently waiting for someone to come along and let him out.  Someone like you maybe.

You probably came along after my former landlord refused an interview.

Well, I told my bit, but I’m not going to help you poke around those old stones looking for a basement door.  No way in hell am I going near that damned place again.

You’ll probably end up like all those previous tenants dead or worse.  Maybe even like those three guys--sentinels at the gate of Hell or some world worse than Hell.  I don’t know where I was I went to in those dreams, but they stopped shortly after I hung that dress and scarf in that large old oak tree in Emerson Grove.

Don’t bother asking that old shaman about it.  The ravens keep their secrets well and aren’t willing to share them with nosey outsiders.

And if there is a secret door I don’t think I’ll be able to open it...for shortly after I left that place, I lost that rusty old key.



                                                       
                                             
                                  The End
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In