Monday, December 3, 2012

The Girl in the Ghost House - Chapter 4







Chapter 4

Evelyn ducked the second she heard the flap of the wings behind her. She fell onto the dusty carpet and rolled over. She pulled her bow out and pulled the arrow back and hoped she could aim better this time. She let the arrow go, not really knowing what she was shooting at. And she just barely saw something black in the corner of her eye flying across the room. But when she shone her flashlight there was nothing there. Evelyn was shaking. The Thing with Black Wings had almost gotten her.

“Oh, deary. Looks like it left again.” Lacrymosa sighed before laughing, “That was a very good try. But maybe next time deary, you should try aiming for it instead of the stairs.”

“I was aiming for it.” Normally Evelyn wouldn’t get so cross with people but she still felt her heart beating fast and her stomach felt all twisted in knots and she did not appreciate Lacrymosa making comments about her aim, “Anyway, you weren’t helping very much.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve made you mad, haven’t I?” Lacrymosa said and began to sniff, “I always do that. Make other people sad or mad. It’s not nearly as fun as when I make people happy.”

“Well, I’m not mad. I was just frightened that’s all.” Evelyn said, shining the light up the stairs to where the golden shaft of her arrow stuck out. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, dear, you mustn’t shine your light so directly at the gap in the stairs. You’ll make it angry.” Lacrymosa said as Evelyn was climbing the stairs.

Friday, November 30, 2012

It is the same


I see them sitting there
He looks out the window
She looks down at her lap
Neither is talking
Both should
But who can start this conversation?
It is the same
They have a choice
Do they keep fighting 
Or do they quit while they're ahead
Cut their losses and throw their lines farther this time

I see him frown at the computer screen
The reports are back and he'll have to fire some more
It seems that's all he'd doing
Just doing his job
Try to forget that it's Christmas time

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Breaking Dawn: Part 3 - The Hunt for Renesmee


Jacob sits in the coffee shop. He’s uneasy and uncertain and he’ll admit it, just plain scared. Which is stupid, he knows, but he has to be honest with himself about all his emotions right now. He has to be. It’s what Carlisle had said. And as much as he still felt uncomfortable around the Cullens family he had gotten to spend a lot of time with them lately. Even more than before. It had been the only way to see her. Renesmee. Just the thought of her did it. He tried not to listen to the fearful voice echoing in the back of his mind.

* * *

“But, I mean, just what if!” Jacob was visibly frustrated as he paced back and forth.

“It’s a risk you’ll have to take.” Carlisle spoke softly.

“No! Not again!” Jacob spat with a harsh, wolfish growl, “Not after last time. And not after Bella! I couldn’t stand it to happen again!”

“Would you rather she had no choice? Like...” And Carlisle paused.

“Like me?” And Jacob’s eyes were filled with pain.

“Like some kind of machine.” Carlisle placed a cool hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “You still choose to lover her. You still choose to stay. You want her to choose you too. It means risking that rejection. But it also means that it is genuine love.”

Jacob hung his head. He knew Carlisle was probably right. He usually was about most things. But Jacob couldn’t shake the feeling like he was being talked into something he didn’t want to be talked into.

“Jacob.” Carlisle increased the pressure on Jacob’s shoulder, “You have to trust that the same fated love that helped you find Nessie through Bella will help her find you.”


Monday, November 26, 2012

The Girl in the Ghost House - Chapter 3




Chapter 3

There was a loud crash as the bronze hand smashed through the wood of the door and turned the handle from inside. The door opened and Trevor ran inside, followed by Faucet who had smoke coming from all sort of corners of his clockwork body. The telephonescope extended into the room and the old man’s voice cried out, “Run! Get out!”

“Fool!” And the Singing Lady glowed red with anger, “You will regret this!”

And she picked up a key from her bowl of keys and snapped it in half. From the hallway outside of the room Evelyn heard a loud crash. It woke her up and she ran towards the door. She grabbed Faucet’s hand and they ran out with Trevor leading the way.They’d just barely got past the door when it slammed shut and started glowing red. Evelyn couldn’t even get close to it because it was so hot.

Monday, November 19, 2012

The Girl in the Ghost House - Chapter 2




The Girl in the Ghost House

Chapter 2

“Excellent dive!” The old man yelled as he set the bow down and smacked his leg, “And good form as well.”


“What! You almost killed me!” Evelyn didn’t usually take a tone like that with her elders but she did have a point, the old gentleman had almost killed her.

“Ah, yes, well, I promise my aim will be much better next time!” He beamed at her, “Now then, do you fancy a cup of tea? Faucet?!”

From the other side of the room there was a loud clicking and whirring sound and as Evelyn shone her flashlight on the corner a metallic clockwork man walked out from between the trees. He bowed stiffly to the old gentleman.

“Ah, Faucet. Excellent. Be a chap and fetch my arrow.” The old man put a normal looking telescope down on the table beside him and Evelyn wondered if it was his telephonoscope. “Oh, and put the kettle on. The young lady and I would like some refreshments. See if we still have any of the thin, wafer mint cookies. There’s a good lad.”

Sunday, November 18, 2012

The Thanksgiving of 1953



Maude sits in front of the glass and looks into her own eyes. They are grey. But not a flat kind of grey. No. They are the kind of grey that changes color depending on the light in the room and the time of day and whether it is raining or sunny outside. Her eyes move away from her eyes and move across her head. Her face. Her hair. Her lips. She takes it all in. And she wonders if she is doing the right thing. Her eyes trace down her lips, across her chin, to her neck. And the ugly purple and green bruise that is forming there.

There was a time when she would have defended Richard. She would have said that he didn’t mean to be so rough. That he didn’t know his own strength. That he would never want to hurt any of them. But it has been a long time since she has felt like defending him to others. Or to herself. Instead, she reaches for the make up and applies the cover like a mask across her neck that says everything is okay. Everything is fine.

Friday, November 16, 2012

No More Bungee Chords



He stares at his eyes in the mirror and wills them to go back to normal. He can’t stay in the bathroom forever. And he can’t leave it looking like this. Everyone in the office were close, and on some level they may even understand and have sympathy for him. But on another level if they could tell he was crying they would judge him and look down on him as weak. And what’s more, he would judge himself even more harshly for showing weakness in front of the employees. Maybe a few more minutes in the bathroom would do it.

He couldn’t believe the call had come. It had literally been one of those bolt out of the blue things. Well, maybe not completely out of the blue. After all he and Owen had been talking over the phone a lot lately. Some internal part of himself wanted to kick himself for not putting it all together sooner. And now Owen was moving up to the city and he would have no more excuses. He would have to face Owen. And talk to him.

He slipped out of the bathroom and made his way to his office, his eyes downcast at his phone as if reading an email. From the corner of his eye he saw one of the interns start a beeline towards him and he quickly slid the phone to his ear as if he had a call.

“Hello?” He waited a beat for the imaginary greeting from the imaginary caller, “Yes, I can get that to you by Tuesday, I think, let me check real quick.”

And then he ducked into his office and closed the door. And locked it. And slid along the grain of the wood until he was on the ground. At least the tears had stopped. Now it was just the pounding pain. He could call someone. Maybe Mick or Bane or Trevor. One of the guys. But he hadn’t seen any of them in a long time. And after the last time... well... maybe he wouldn’t call them after all.

“Rough day?” The familiar, gravely voice came from his chair faced out towards the window.

“Jesus! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” He gasped, quickly getting up and wiping his face.

Sal was the secretary for the whole office and had been since as long as anyone could remember. She was sitting there, looking up at him over the tops of her thick, black rimmed glasses. “Ha! You’re not even thirty yet! When you’re fifty we’ll talk about heart attacks.”

“Sorry, Sal. What do you want?” He straighten his tie.

“Well, I mean, I don’t want to bother you.” She rolled a pen up and down the desk with her flat palm, “Especially not if you’ve got stuff on your mind anyway.”

“I’m fine Sal.” He smoothed his hair and felt the mask settle in place again. Everything was fine. “What is it?”

“Well, you see.” And she began to tear up, “My cat died today. Mr. Tweedles. And I know I shouldn’t be crying about it... but it’s just been a rough week for me first with the car accident and the damages I have to pay and now this. I’m feeling overworked and overstressed and I think I might quit soon.”

He walked over and took her hand, “You’ll be fine. Just take it one step at a time and make it day by day.”

“You really think so?” She looked up at him with hopefull eyes. “Of course, a raise would make it all much easier for me. Especially with the payments.”

“Yes, well, we’d all like one, wouldn’t we. Now, better get going.” He motioned towards the door, “Phone’s aren’t going to answer themselves. But anytime you want to talk.”

“Thanks.” She said as she stepped out. “Even just talking made me feel better.”

He sat down at the desk and as she left she took the momentary distraction with her. And the pressure on his temples increased again, his skin on his skull feeling too tight. He massaged his head with his fingers. Options. He needed options.

He could tell Owen not to come. He could avoid the whole conversation. But Owen might come anyway. And then he’d be upset and even more likely to make a scene. Especially with Dahlia. And how would he even begin to explain Owen to Dahlia? Sorry, honey, remember when we took a break for six months? Well, while you were sleeping with that old rich guy I found someone else too. Meet Owen. That will go across well. Especially now that their relationship was finally back on track. He ran his fingers through his hair, wanting to pull it out by the roots.

“You’re way too nice.” It was McKenna, his intern, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her lithe frame accented by the little black dress and high heels she was wearing.

“Oh, you mean about Sal?” He asked looked up as she sauntered in.

“I mean, for God’s sake, she’s a fifty-three year old woman. She should have her own life figured out enough by now not to have to come in here and complain about the small shit that we all have to deal with and waste your time.” McKenna may have been his unpaid intern but she was not the sort to be pushed around, and he liked that and let her speak her mind, most of the time. “I mean, look, do you honestly think you’re actually helping her?”

“No.” He said shaking his head, “But if I just let her crash and burn, you know how it all ends up. She has one of her fits and then we’re short a secretary for a week because she needs serious bedrest.”

“Right.” McKenna rolled her eyes, “Anyway, the boss sent a message. He wants you out at the upstate location tomorrow to oversee the new shipment personally.”

He groaned, “Thanks. Hey, you don’t wanna be Director for the day, do you?”

“Hmmm, only a day? Sounds fun.” She said winking as she walked out, making sure to swing her hips as much as she could, “Then again. There are lots of stuff that sound like fun.”

And again, as soon as she was out of the room the distraction was also gone and instantly he felt the quiver of fear at his core. He got out of his chair and walked over to the window, looking at his reflection in the glass. He remembered Lana. She always made fun of him for checking his hair in the glass. He had been thinking a lot about Lana lately. Which was not a good sign.

“I’m over you.” He whispered to himself and the ghost of their past.

They had been engaged. She had been his first love. And she had wanted to go to Australia. To live a wild and free life in the Outback as backpackers and migrant farm workers. And he kept telling her maybe, while secretly knowing that he would never. After she left he had told himself that it had been her fault. Her unrealistic comprehension of how the world worked. And maybe that was why it didn’t work with Dahlia either. Because while she was much more grounded she also had trouble dealing with how the real world worked. She had never even had a real job. And as he thought about it, the same was the problem with Owen. They had a one night stand and then Owen had started calling him. Saying he was in love with him. But Owen couldn’t tell the difference between love and lust. So really none of them had a firm grip on reality. He sighed as he leaned his forehead against the cool of the glass.

Did he just attract people like that? Was he just attracted to them? Was it that he was so grounded that they, with their wild and dreamer like personalities, were something refreshing and attractive? He groaned more, looking down at the cars zipping down the road below. Oblivious to the man groaning against the glass far above them. Maybe he was like those cars. Maybe he was oblivious. Maybe he was just as disconnected from reality as Lana and Dahlia and Owen were. He wouldn’t even be able to tell if he was, would he?

The phone rang. He caught his breath and held it. The caller ID was blocked. Which one of them would it be? Could he bare to talk to any of them? Maybe it would be Mick. That would be a godsend. He could really use someone to talk all of this out. But on the other hand it could be Dahlia. And he did not have the strength for another one of her mental breakdowns. She was ten times worse than Sal. He looked past the ringing phone at McKenna who leaned out of her cubicle and raised a manicured eyebrow at the ringing phone.

He nodded and walked over. His hand was above it. If it was Owen he would just tell him right now that there was nothing going to ever happen between them. That it had been a mistake. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed what they did, but because he wasn’t attracted to Owen as a person. Owen the person was a rat, always scurrying around for attention and sneaking things behind people’s backs because he didn’t trust them. Just describing Owen was exhausting. The phone kept ringing.

“PS Architects Incorporated.” Sal said in her answering voice. “Yes, the Director is in. One moment please.”

“Who is it?” He hissed at Sal, his hand over the receiver, ready to accept the transfer.

“Don’t know. Didn’t ask. Sorry.” She shrugged and hit the button.

“Hello––” Came the voice and he dropped the phone back into the cradle.

“Sal, if that person calls again, do me a favor and don’t answer it this time.” He seethed and then gave a pointed, “Please.”

Sal sniffed and turned back to her keyboard and tapped loudly on the keys with her four inch hot magenta fake nails. McKenna mimed typing behind Sal’s back, hacking at an invisible keyboard while pulling bored and snooty faces. He grinned at the two’s antics and stepped back into his office, shutting the door again.

He sat down in his chair and sighed. He felt like one of the drivers down on that road. One that had just looked up and realized there was a man staring down at him from the window in one of the buildings. He felt like he was looking into a mirror looking into a mirror and seeing the back of his head slowly emerge. A part of him he had someone never seen before even if he’d had it everyday and now it seemed so obvious. It wasn’t Owen or Dahlia or Lana. None of them were the problem. He was.

It had always been him. Because he wanted to change himself. Because he wanted be so rational. He fought himself into being rational. And being rational meant denying that wild and carefree side of himself. And that was what drove Lana away. And it had hurt so much, that he had retreated not only from irrationality but from love itself. And so when he and Dahlia had gone out he had not felt anything. And he had told himself it was because there was nothing. And so when they took their break it had all been fine to him. At least he had told himself that he was fine with it. But he hadn’t really been. He wanted people to like him. He wanted people to approve of him. That was why he had always changed himself. To be more rational. To be less emotional. But none of it seemed to work. And so when Owen had shown interest, there had been a part of him that had reacted to it. That wanted to be wanted. And so even though he hated Owen’s opinions and even though he hated Owen’s arrogance and even though he even hated Owen’s music, still he had spent that night with him. And was it Owen’s fault that he had shown interest? Was it Owen’s fault that he had stayed the night? Was it Owen’s fault that he had let Owen fall in love with him?

“So, what now?” He whispered and his breath fogged up the glass where his lips hovered inches above it, “How do I fix this?”

And as he spoke the words he felt the irony of it grip him. Because he wanted to change himself again. The very thing that had caused all of this. But then if he was not supposed to change himself  what then? Was he just supposed to be himself? But how? He’d changed himself time and time again and now he couldn’t tell what had been there originally and what hadn’t been there. So, would he just stay as he was right now? None of the answer seemed right to him. Because even if he just strove for the things that felt right, they may just feel right because they were familiar, not because they were actually right for him. And he had already proved that he had no compass for picking and choosing who he would be.

“What’s the use of having an epiphany about how much you suck as a person if you can’t do anything about it? What do I do now?” He sighed and as usual instead of thinking of some useful answer his brain thought about something random instead. About last summer.

Last summer when he still had his friends in his life. Last summer when they had gone bungee jumping. It had been the most thrilling and most frightening thing he had ever experienced. And after the first few jumps he had realized that he looked forward to the feeling of falling. Something Lana would have loved about him. There he was thinking of gaining her approval again. Did it never leave? But that feeling. That exhilarating feeling. Everything else fell away. And then there was just the sweet nothing of the free fall. He looked out at the cars passing below. He could do with letting everything fall away. He was about twelve stories up. He could really do with a solid, clean break. None of them. Leave Lana and Dahlia and Owen behind. Leave Sal and McKenna behind. No, McKenna was a smart one. She’d be leaving the firm soon. Leaving them all behind. And then he really wouldn’t have any reason left. Anything tying him down. No more bungee cord. As if reading his mind there was a knock on his door and McKenna peaked in.

“Hiya.” She stepped in and closed the door behind her, “So, yeah. I thought I’d let you know. Ben Johnson’s firm has offered me a position in junior management. I think I’m gonna take it.”

“Leaving us already.” He said with a smile that felt old and worn, “No surprise, though I don’t know what you’ll do without Sal to bother all day.”

She smiled, “So, did you want to grab dinner and maybe drinks after work? Since after five you officially won’t be my boss anymore.”

“Sure.” He smiled back at her and watched her figure slide out of the doorway.

No more bungee cord he thought to himself. He packed up his desk. Set all of his files for the night and left instructions for Sal for tomorrow morning. He undid his tie and felt a small breath squeeze past his collar and reach his lungs, the pounding in his head letting up.  And then he took a running start. The glass shattered around him, blossoming from the side of the building. The air was cold and sweet as it passed him. It was the thrill of the free fall. Everything else fell away. No more bungee cords.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

The Girl in the Ghost House - Chapter 1





Chapter 1

Evelyn was not what most grown ups would call a well adjusted child. What they meant by that was that Evelyn was the type of little girl who did not care very much for television, who didn’t do with nonsense such as boogeymen, and whose very absolute favorite thing in the world was climbing out of her bed at night, opening her bedroom window, and escaping to explore the forgotten houses.


There was a row of them. They’d been built by a millionaire who had been sure that everyone would want a house on the land he owned. But then the city had put a graveyard up right next to his houses. And no one wanted to live next to a graveyard. Except for Evelyn’s parents. Because really, most grown ups would not call her parents well adjusted either.

Evelyn’s parents were not the type of grown ups who forbade her from playing in the abandoned houses. Instead, when they first moved in, Evelyn’s mother had gone one night to explore the houses herself. And then the next day Evelyn’s father had taken the screen off her window and built the steps that went down from her bedroom to the garden. And they had put up enough trees and bushes that she could run between without being seen. Because Evelyn’s parents thought it was a good thing for Evelyn to play and a good thing for her to explore. And because they had both already checked and knew that there was nothing dangerous in the abandoned houses.

And of course they were wrong.

It was on an ordinary night of exploration that Evelyn came to the yellow house with the number 23 on it. And that Evelyn walked up the creaking steps. And that Evelyn grabbed the old, rusted door knob and pulled the old door away on its squeaking hinges. She stepped into the house and the dust motes rose into the air.

Evelyn never left her room without her flashlight. She turned it on and shone a beam of light into the house. The house looked just like all the other abandoned houses looked inside. Except this one wasn’t empty. The old house was filled with old furniture. The walls weren’t bare. They had faded and peeling wallpaper on them. There were old paintings and pictures and a big chandelier that was covered in spider webs. Someone had lived in the old house. A long time ago.

Evelyn shone her flashlight around as she stepped inside and let the door close behind her. It didn’t swing shut like the other houses. It slammed and the slam echoed into the darkness above. She let her light fall on the door just in time to see the key in the door turn. Evelyn did not realize that the doors of the abandoned houses had keys. She pulled the key out of the door and placed it in her pocket. That was when Evelyn heard the singing.

It was coming from upstairs. Someone else was in the house.

At first Evelyn thought about her parents. They had taught her how to explore safely. They had also taught her that it was impossible to never speak to strangers, and instead the best way of speaking to a stranger was to come across as pleasant and well mannered while still avoiding danger. Evelyn could just leave. She could unlock the door and go back home.

But where was the fun in that.

The stairs creaked as she walked up to where the singing came from. One of the stairs was missing a slat and went down into the inky darkness below the stairs. And as she stepped over it, she felt her whole body get goosebumps. In fact, it was so cold she could see her breath fog in front of her. And then the next moment, as she stepped on the other side of the gap in the stairs, she was fine again. Evelyn knew that this was very odd. And so she stopped and thought about whether she should just go back down the stairs. Whether she was in any real danger.

And she decided that it must have just been a draft and that she was still fine. So Evelyn continued walking up the stairs. The top of the stairs ended in a very short hallway. On her left and on her right were doors. And ahead of her was a third door, this one outlined in blue light from underneath. The singing was coming from the blue lit door. Evelyn swallowed and wondered what kind of person came into abandoned houses at night and sang.

“Pssst.” A voice came from the door on her right and frightened her so much she dropped her flashlight.

Evelyn reached to pick it up and as she stood up the doorway opened up. The room was dark and inside Evelyn could hear a sort of wet, dripping sound. She shined her flashlight into the room. It was a bathroom. That would explain the dripping. There was a massive white tub with lion claw legs and thick copper handles. Above it a shower head came down and at the end of the shower nozzle another drop was forming at the tip, ready to splash down in the bathtub.

“Psst.” Came the voice again and this time she was sure it came from the big bathtub.

“Hello. Is someone there?” Evelyn asked training her light on the tub.

A boy peaked over the edge of the tub. His hair was dark and messy and his face was pale and his eyes were big and grey and almost scary if he didn’t look so scared of her. Evelyn knew that if someone was scared of you, you usually didn’t have to be scared of them. Usually.

“Hi there. My name is Evelyn.” She said as she introduced herself as her parents had taught her, “What’s your name?”

“William. But mother and Maryanne call me Willie.” The boy said still peering over the tub at Evelyn cautiously.

“And which do you prefer, William or Willie?” Evelyn asked, advancing slowly.

“William. Father says a g-growing boy ought not to be coddled.” He raised his head just a bit more as he spoke.

“Well, William. Are you here exploring too?” Evelyn said letting her flashlight’s yellow beam glide over the bathroom surface, “Funny place to sit though. In a bathtub.”

“I’m not exploring.” William said, looking around fearfully, “I’m just. I’m just taking a bath.”

“A bath? In the middle of the night? Here? Why?” Evelyn jumped out of the way as a large white rat scurried past her, “What is that!?”

“Oh, don’t mind Trevor.” The boy let a pale hand float out of the bathtub and scooped the rat up into his hand, “He’s just bringing me back the news of what’s happening in the rest of the house.”

“But.... but he’s a rat. I mean, it’s a rat.” Evelyn was not the sort of girl that put up with nonsense like talking animals.

“So. He’s also my best friend. And friends tell each other things, don’t they?” The boy William looked out of the tub at Evelyn standing in the doorway, “Anyway, Trevor’s the one who saw you come in and told me you were coming up the stairs.”

“Well, and why did Trevor care that I was coming up the stairs?” Evelyn had just about had enough of the boy who sat in a bathtub at all hours of the night in an abandoned house and talked to rats.

“He said you were going towards the Singing Lady’s room. And that you mustn’t.” William fixed his grave eyes on Evelyn. “You must not. You must never go in the Singing Lady’s room or you’ll never leave.”

And then the boy William slid silently beneath the rim of the bathtub. Trevor the Rat sat on the edge and nodded his small whiskered face as if agreeing with William. Evelyn didn’t much care for the way the rat seemed to think it knew everything. Trevor hopped down and scurried across the floor, stopping at the open door to look up at Evelyn and motion with his head. It seemed as if he wanted her to follow him. Trevor went forward a few steps and looked back. Evelyn stepped out of the bathroom and the door shut.

“So, where are you taking me, rat?” She looked down at it with distaste.

Trevor looked up at her and then continued scurrying back towards the stairs. Evelyn was about to step towards the rat when the song behind her suddenly grew louder. She turned slowly on the spot towards the door, the bright blue light coming from around the cracks in the doorjam. The song was getting louder and she felt almost like a hand was grabbing hold of her sweater and pulling her towards the door.

“SQUEAK!” Trevor ran back and tried to grab hold of her bootlace, dragging across the rug as Evelyn kept walking.

Evelyn took one slow step after another. She reached her hand out towards the doorknob. Trevor was getting frantic, running towards the stairs then back to her then back to the stairs. He tried to pull her back but she didn’t even notice him. She placed her hand on the doorknob and the metal was ice cold to the touch. The light around the door pulsed with anticipation. Evelyn was ready to open the door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!

She started as the door to her left shook. Someone was pounding from the otherside. Evelyn instinctively took a step back, looking at the door. The knocking started again and she trained her flashlight on the white, chipped wooden frame.

“Excuse me.” Came the voice of a very proper sounding old gentleman. “Pardon me young lady, but would you mind not shining your torch directly at me?”

Evelyn let the yellow pool of light slide down the door and quiver on the spot right in front of it. So that enough light would still be reaching the door. And that’s when she noticed it. Sticking out of the doorknob, right through the keyhole was a small metal pipe. She stepped forward and looked at it closer. It had a small piece of glass at the end.

“What do you think? Charming invention isn’t it? I do so love a good mechanism.” The disembodied voice kept talking, “I’m currently working on something that may enable me to walk around soon! I daresay, maybe even leave the house! Haha!”

“Who are you?” Evelyn said leaning forward towards the small metal pipe coming out of the doorknob, “Where are you?”

“Ah! Yes! Of course! What was I thinking? Where are my manners!” And here the voice stopped and the metal tube slid back into the keyhole as it said, “Please, if you wouldn’t mind unlocking my door?”

Evelyn was about to ask how she was supposed to unlock the door. When she realized. She had the key. Could the key from the downstairs door be the same one to unlock the upstairs door? She stepped forward, not noticing Trevor the rat scurrying back and forth shaking his head. She slid the key into the lock and turned it to the left. The bolt in the door slid solid and the key in her hand became cold.

She barely pulled the key out before the door creaked open. Evelyn swallowed. Inside dusty wooden stairs led upward into the darkness that was the attic. The small metal tube slid back into a slightly bigger section of tube. And that was when she figured it out.

“It’s like a miniature telescope!” And her flashlight gleamed off the brass pipes that led up into the darkness.

“Oh! Oh yes,” The voice said, and Evelyn could finally tell that it was coming from the telescope, “This is my telephonoscope. It lets me see and hear from all the way up here in the attic. Please, follow it up. I would very much like to meet you young lady.”

Evelyn looked back at the blue glowing door. And thought that she would just take a peak upstairs and meet the kind-sounding old gentleman in the attic before going to see what lay behind the blue lit door. The stairs creaked and Trevor was scurrying back and forth in anguish before placing his small paw over his eyes and shaking his head. Then he ran back to the bathroom to report what had happened to the boy William in the bath in frantic squeaks.

Meanwhile Evelyn was walking up the creaking stairs. The darkness was thicker and she began to wonder what the old gentleman was doing in the attic to begin with. Evelyn though that he must be William’s grandfather because they were both in the house in the middle of the night and they both seemed to be odd people. She hoped that the old gentleman wouldn’t be as fond of rats as his grandson.

The tube Evelyn was following was now as thick as the handle of her flashlight and she thought that the attic would have to be close. She took one more step, and for a moment, caught her breath. Because there weren’t anymore stairs and for a moment she thought she was falling, before she stumbled forward into the attic. At least she thought it was where the attic would be. But instead Evelyn was standing on grass. There were trees and their branches reached up and at the top she thought she could see stars shining through the branches and leaves.

“But, that’s impossible.” Evelyn crossed her arms, “I saw the house from the outside! It had a roof and a proper attic! This is all some kind of nonsense. Maybe even just a dream!”

A heavy chair on the other side of the glade/room turned with a creak and the old man faced her, “Oh no my dear, I’m afraid this is no dream.”

And then Evelyn saw what the old gentleman had in his hands. It was a massive bow made of bronze, with levers and gears at it’s base and small pulleys and winches at its top and bottom. The old gentleman pulled a solid golden arrow out of the couch and drew it back as far as he could, the gears spinning and the thread on the bow whirring as it ran through the pulleys. It made a loud click as the arrow war ready, the string humming with tension.

“What are you––?” Evelyn couldn’t finish her sentence before the old man let go and the bow shot out a shower of sparks from its gears as the arrow was release and shot forward like a bolt of pure gold. Evelyn just had enough time to dive out of the way as the arrow cut through the air where she had stood, quivering in the wooden paneling of the doorframe.