Mountain Magic

Gathering herself together, she called her aunt's name again, then Ronald's. There being no response, she slid her hand along the wall as she made her way slowly, quietly down the hall. Always, she was aware of her surroundings: before her, behind, and up the stairs. Only the cold, the stench, and silence accosted her, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

When she pushed open a door on her left that was slightly ajar, complete darkness greeted her. Ginny waited, listening before feeling for a light switch. When she pushed the little button, she was rewarded with the fact that her aunt had no electricity. No electricity means no useful inside facilities--no water in the kitchen or bathroom.

Cautiously making her way to a window, she found its heavily drapes were pulled closed and the window blind pulled down to the sill. She changed that in a hurry, to allow the beautiful sun's rays, which had evidently conquered the cloud mass, to stream in.

Recessed bookshelves, paneled walls and an intricately patterned ceiling with crown molding, caught her eye. The room was a library. It contained a chaise lounge which had bedding piled on it, a library table under a large painted picture of her aunt and uncle, a roomy rocker padded with leather, a manly desk with a leather swivel chair on wheels, and a fireplace around which books were strewn. Partly burned books were also on the grate, and there was a mass of fur on the floor beside the chaise, which she had missed stepping upon in the dark room, on her way to the window.

The house is a mess, but that bulk of fur is not right. It could be a bear rug, or a covering of some kind, but the way it's piled . . . With her gun drawn, she approached it with respect and pulled back into her throat the gasp that tried to form, when she saw something white in its midst. Before checking it out further, she allowed the tremor that spread about her, actually shaking her head and shoulders, to settle, before tiptoeing out into the hallway to look around. With strained ears, she listened for anything disquieting. Silence. Up stairs and down.

She leaned against the hall wall for a minute collecting her thoughts and emotions. She walked to the door on the left past the stairs. A smidgen of light from around the drapes and blinds revealed a dining room. She backed away and closed the door and then went to the next which stuck as she tried to turn the knob. Forget that, I'll go on down to end where I can see lots of light.

The kitchen or what was left of it. It was total chaos with every flat surface topped with dirty dishes, pot and pans, discarded food, smelly cloths and a sink full of filthy water with dirty dishes sitting in it. The disorder flowed over unto the floor . "Oh, upon my word! The stench! With her hand flying to her face to cover her nose and mouth, regardless of the noise,she turned and fled back to the library door her heart beating a mile a minute.

Staring at the kitchen door, unbelieving what she found there, she looked into the library--at the fur--piled there. I guess there's nothing to do but to do it, but she was not expecting to find a person.

"Aunt Clara!" Ginny cried, jamming the gun back into her pocket. She knelt beside the insensible being, pulling the fur the fur coat away from her face and neck, to find a neglected, old, emaciated reflection of her father.

Certain that her aunt was dead, she tore back through the house, calling Burt's name. She stumbled down the rough porch steps, and was half running, half falling down the stone walk and steps, screaming Burt's name. Then out unto the road, before realizing Burt was gone.

You wanted to stay, you knew, the same as I, that there was some horrendous dilemma awaiting me in that house. I sent you away. Oh, please dear God, don't let me be alone!

"Burt, she screamed at the top of her lungs, her heart beating so ferociously, she felt faint. More quietly, "Burt," she sobbed, hiding her face in her hands. "Come back Burt, please come back.'