Deepwood: A Haunting
Page 5
“Just so you know,” Varick stood on his toes to follow along with me, “some of the pictures are wrong.”
“How do you mean?”
“Angels as girls, or babies with wings and halos?” He snorted, pointing. “That’s not what angels look like.”
“Mmm.” I nodded, playing along. “You’re right. These pictures look nothing like angels.”
“Nope. My angel’s a man, and he doesn’t have wings.”
“Oh?”
We resumed walking down the parking lot. “He has red hair and a beard,” said Varick matter-of-factly.
I stared at my son. I had never told him anything about the history of our house. Why would I? He was only a child. Seven years had come and gone, and I’d never again seen or heard a trace of…
I cleared my throat. “You see angels, Varick?”
He twirled the string on his mittens, as though this were everyday conversation. “Just one.”
“Huh.”
I didn’t press him, but he volunteered the rest. “Last summer, I was looking for frogs in the pond, and my angel showed up and told me I needed to be extra careful, because the rocks can be slippery. He didn’t want me to fall.”
“Do you see him a lot?”
“No. But he says he’s always beside me.”
My heart was pacing itself. Varick was a logic and numbers kind of boy—just like his father. Of course, all children possessed vibrant imaginations. But it wasn’t like him to invent stories.
I handed the pamphlet back to him. He took it, still insisting, “The pictures are wrong, Mom.”
“I believe you,” I whispered.
The engine rumbled, and Horst rolled down the driver’s window. “You two coming or what? Breakfast is waiting at Tante Maria’s house and I’m starving.”
I knew my husband’s appetite was nothing to be taken lightly. With a final glance at the little stone church behind us, I opened the car door and helped Varick into the back seat.
THE END
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I wrote the original draft of this novelette one decade ago, in the summer of 2007. That was long before I thought I’d ever become a professional writer, years before my fantasy novels were published or even written, and just one month before I met my husband-to-be. At the time, I was addicted to TV haunted house documentaries and would binge-watch them at night after school (much to my dad’s chagrin). They served as the inspiration for the haunting at Deepwood. What struck me most when I rediscovered this manuscript, however, was that my now-husband (again, who I met one month later) has a lot in common with Cecily’s husband, Horst. When I showed him the manuscript, he agreed that some of the similarities were uncanny.
When I recently reread the ending of this story, I knew I wanted to update and release it for the first time. Although I’ve never believed in ghosts, I still find spiritual concepts a source of constant speculation and entertainment. I hope you enjoyed this little eBook. Please visit me online for more stories!
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