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Ghostly Writes Anthology 2016

Page 49

by Claire Plaisted

With my hot cup of coco in my hands I looked around the sparsely furnished den that had an antique feel. I had goosebumps on my arms and shivered even though it was a warm night. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed four. The cottage felt strangely empty since Martha, my uncle’s housekeeper, left to look after her sister.

  Muffin, my longhaired Calico, hissed and her fur stood on end as she stared into the corners.

  “Muffin you are scaring me.” Loud noises from the attic had roused me from a sound sleep and Muffin was still uneasy.

  I had just got a cheery fire going, in the fireplace, when the wind picked up rattling the window. Branches scraped against the side of the cottage sending shivers down my spine. A clap of thunder overhead made me jump. The lights flickered off and on several times and the room was bathed in the soft glow of firelight.

  After closing the shutters, I picked up the letter from my uncle’s tall, secretary desk and sat in the overstuffed, tweed armchair. I just started to read when the shutters burst open with a bang. I struggled with the shutters as a flash of lightning lit up the yard. It illuminated the garden and beyond and for a split second I saw dim figures near the old garden.

  Once the shutters were secure I picked up the letter and started reading.

  Dear Kimberly,

  I hope everything is all right with you. I was devastated to hear about your mother. We were close years ago but quarrelled. I regret those harsh words because she was gone the next morning. There was never the chance to tell her I was sorry. A private detective tracked down your address. I wrote her but she never answered.

  I paused with the letter held in mid- air. When I was clearing out my mother’s things I had found an old photo album. There were pictures of this cottage and a lot of people I hadn’t heard of. It seemed strange that Mother had never mentioned her family and I was surprised to learn she had an older brother. I had always believed she was an orphan.

  Something rattled and fell out of the envelope and landed, with a clatter, at my feet. “What?” My voice echoed in the quiet room. I bent over and picked up old fashioned brass keys attached to an ornate key ring. There were tags on each that said. Attic, garden gate, and pantry.

  I blinked as the lights flickered on. I picked up the letter and continued to read. My uncle talked about his illness that remained a mystery to all the doctors he had seen. I was about to set the letter aside when I found an interesting note.

  No doubt, you have found the keys. The attic contains Mother and Father’s things. Your Mother’s hand carved chest is up there, as well. I was her guardian and tried to tell her Mother and Father wouldn’t approve of the people she was hanging out with.

  The sun shone through the narrow stained glass windows creating a kaleidoscope of color on the dark hardwood floor. Muffin purred by my side as I pondered the things in the letter.

 

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