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Mary woke from her nap with a throbbing headache. She looked at the clock next to the bed, she had been asleep for five hours; she never napped that long. She must be coming down with something. A virus or possibly the stress of moving took its toll on her. The move was rather unexpected, and she didn’t have time to prepare for it.
Mary glanced into Madisyn’s bedroom as she walked out of her room; she wasn’t in there. Then she heard Madisyn outside in the front yard. With one hand on her forehead, she walked down the staircase to the front door. When she opened it, she saw Madisyn throwing a stick and Pickles running for it, but never actually picking it up.
Mary walked onto the porch, Pickles was having fun and so was Madisyn. Then they noticed her and ran up to her.
“Are you feeling okay?” Madisyn asked, obviously concerned. “You look...tired.”
“I have a headache, I probably have some twenty-four-hour bug. I’ll feel better later, I’m sure.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
Mary walked back inside. “I don’t know. I think I’m going to take a couple aspirin and go back up to my room.”
“I can make you some chicken noodle soup. Oh, wait, there isn’t any.”
“If I’m not feeling well enough to go into town tomorrow morning with Moose and Eddie, you can go without me. I’ll make a list of some of the things we need.”
“That would be fine, but do you think you need to see the doctor?”
Mary waved a hand as if shooing a fly. “No, of course not. I’m fine, just need a little rest.”
Mary walked into the library where she had her purse. She took out a bottle of aspirin that she kept inside. “I’m going back to my room; can you bring me a bottle of water?”
“Sure, I’ll bring it right up.”
Madisyn had returned with the water before Mary climbed to the second floor.
“That’s fast,” Mary said, taking one exhausting step after another. “I must say, I’m happy you’re here, but I didn’t intend for you to take care of me.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t mind,” Madisyn said, following Mary into her bedroom. “Oh, I think I found an entrance to a secret passage. It’s in the closet between your room and the master bedroom. When I knocked on the wall, it sounded hollow.”
“That’s nice, but don’t go inside any secret passages unless I’m with you,” Mary said, walking to the chair where she had her pajama’s lying. “I know it’s early, but I’m going to bed.”
“I hope you feel better. Don’t worry about me and Pickles, we’re having fun.”
Mary shivered as she pulled the covers up to her chin. “You can close the door when you leave.”
“If you need anything, holler. I’ll be listening.”
“Thank you, Madisyn. You’re a lifesaver.”
* * *
MARY TOSSED AND TURNED through the night. She went from uncontrollable shivering to perspiring profusely until her pajamas were wet. She opened her eyes to see what time it was, it was after three o’clock. Time for more aspirin and water. She was about to turn the nightstand lamp on when something in the corner—standing in the corner—caught her attention. It looked like a four-foot-tall person.
Mary squinted then reached for her glasses. “Is that you, Madisyn?” It was too short for Madisyn, but if it was her, she would have to give the poor girl a notice of dismissal.
With glasses on, Mary looked to see what the shadow was. She clenched her chest, her heart pounding erratically when she saw a withered old person looking back. The moonlight cast an eerie gray on its skin as wrinkled as Pickles. Even though the hair was long and scraggly, she could not tell if it was a man or woman. Then it rushed up to her like a film in fast motion, stopping inches from Mary’s face. And with the breath of insecticide, of brimstone, it said, “You will die in three days, Mary McMaster.”
Mary screamed as the thing shot out of the room, vanishing through the closed door. She sat there, frozen from fright. If her heart was any weaker, she would’ve dropped dead that moment, let alone in three days.
Madisyn ran into the room and up to Mary. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Mary could hardly speak. “I saw, I saw a...” She didn’t know exactly what she did see. A ghost, a demon, the vengeful Zachariah De Moen? “Did you see it? It dashed through the door.”
Madisyn shook her head. “See what? I didn’t see anything.”
With the room now well lit, Mary was calming down. Her heart was slowing its gallop to a trot as she unclenched her fist. She sighed. “I thought I saw someone in my room, like a creepy old witch. It told me I was going to die in three days.” Mary watched Pickles jump onto the bed. “I think a high fever caused me to have a bad dream. I haven’t had one of those since I was a child.”
“Could it be the McMaster curse? Did it say how you were going to—die?”
“It’s all nonsense. I don’t believe in such things. But what I do believe in is putting on dry nightclothes.”
Madisyn went back to bed while Pickles stayed at the foot of Mary’s bed having already dozed off. She slipped into dry clothes and instead of getting back into bed she decided to go downstairs to get something cold to drink, not room temperature water.
The light from the growing moon cast enough light into the stairwell for Mary to feel along the wall for the light switch to the staircase. By the time she found it, Pickles was at her feet.
“Now don’t you go getting under my feet, Pickles,” Mary said, beginning down the steps. “I don’t want to trip over you and fall and break my neck. Or people are going to think the McMaster curse killed me and not your carelessness.”
Mary walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of ice water; it was cold and tasted good. She sat the glass on the counter and listened for that rat or anything else out of the ordinary like that crazy old witch or whatever that thing was in her bedroom.
“Just a figment of my imagination,” Mary said aloud. But was it? She was awake when she saw and smelled its rotten odor. The thought made her quiver.