No post today, just a snippet.
He was late. A date with the brunette? The weather? A sick cold wave swept over her. What if he had an accident? She willed herself calm, pulled off a glove and shoved her hand deep into the pocket of her jacket, fingers wrapping around the smooth pebble of onyx nestled in the seam.
Oh gentle Goddess, bless my path.
Help me to act in wisdom and be strong in spirit.
Let your silver light guide me through this darkness
and help me vanquish my weaknesses.
Before Halloween, she’d waited inside The House of the Seven Gables. But now it was November, and Salem’s throngs of Halloween revelers had abandoned the city like so many faithless lovers. Stores and attractions buttoned up, the ferry closed down, the streets emptied. Even the venerable Gables, in whose vacant parking lot she now stood huddled and shivering, closed its doors early.
She caught a whiff of sugar from Ye Olde Pepper Companie and exhaled, the air so cold she could see the hazy billow of her breath floating in the relentless rain. Without warning, his black SUV appeared and skidded to a stop across the street. She wiped at watery eyes and watched his tall, solid frame exit the vehicle, spine straight as a ship’s mast. Fair hair, like his mother’s, neither brown nor blond, lay plastered to his skull. Dodging raindrops, he jogged up the tiny stoop and disappeared. The big house seemed to swallow him whole.
A light clicked on inside. The living room, she guessed. He wouldn’t leave tonight. The dropping temperatures promised snow, and he had school tomorrow. She sighed. That was it then. She may as well go back to Boston. With the ferry out of service until spring, she’d have to walk the mile to the train.
She stepped from behind her makeshift windbreak and crossed toward his vehicle. As she shone her flashlight on the tires, a curtain in the front window of the house fluttered, and a small sign appeared. Impossible to read in the fading light, she moved closer: Furnished One Bedroom Apartment for Rent. Beneath the pre-printed words, a handwritten phone number.
So mote it be.