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CHAPTER 3
Woah….
Marcy gaped at the room. This is so different from what’s downstairs! It was rather large. The walls were light purple and the trim was white. Three windows were placed on one wall and one on another. Green gauzy curtains hung before each of them. A white queen size bed made lime green sheets and set with the headboard against the middle of a wall occupied a great deal of the floor, but there was other furniture. A white wood dresser and vanity were placed in the room as well. Marcy saw a door to a closet and a bathroom. The room was so light and cheery, it was hard to tell if she was still in the same house.
Jenny humphed as she dumped her suitcase onto the floor. Marcy started to open her mouth to ask questions but her aunt cut her off. “I’m assuming you have questions?”
She nodded. “Well, go ahead and ask them.”
“Well, for starters, why in the world is the upstairs so cool and the downstairs so old fashioned?” Marcy asked. She set down her pillow on the bed and her other suitcase beside it, then sat down on the bed.
“Ah, that.” Jenny abruptly plopped down onto the carpeted floor and crossed her legs, sweeping her red hair out of her face. “Well, sometimes I find it better to be thought of as a crazy lady who isn’t quite with the century. It--for lack of a better word, uninterests people. And sometimes it’s better for them to wonder about me. Plus it’s fun. And I don’t get any suitors. Which helps.” She smiled. “Next?”
“Do you live up here?”
“I do. The part of the house that you and your parents saw makes me sneeze, so I keep away if I can. All else is as modern as this. It’s pretty cool, actually.”
Marcy laid down. “So, why don’t you want people to come here? Are you a criminal or something?” she asked jokingly.
“That would depend on your point of view,” said Jenny. “And yes, there is a story behind that. But I’ll wait to tell you. Maybe you can figure out some parts of it yourself.” She looked at Marcy slyly. “Let’s just say that the police don’t want me and I haven’t broken the law and leave it at that. Look hard enough and you’ll find out more.” Jenny clapped her hands and stood up. “Well, I’m sure you want some time to put away your things and get settled. I’ll leave you for now. Dinner is at six and we’re having homemade mac and cheese! You can come down before then if you want. Oh, and the wifi password is derpywizard32. Bye for now!” She waved as she left the room.
Okay, thought Marcy. She opened her phone and connected to the wifi. Good. At least I can call and text. I doubt there’s a cell tower within a mile from here. She took a picture of her sarcastically happy face and texted it to Olivia with the message, having so much fun. :|
She set her phone down on the bed and began to unload her things into the dressers as she waited for Olivia’s reply. Before long she heard the ding of a new message. Eagerly, she picked up her phone, but set it down again with a sigh as she saw who the message was from.
We miss you already, honey. Text me every day to let me know how you are. Love you. --Mom
Hah! Think I really believe that? Yeah, right. She deleted it and returned to putting away her things. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. Wonder why there’s no dust? I doubt she cleans all these rooms. She examined the dresser more thoroughly. Hm….strange. No dust at all. Course, she does have a butler. Maybe he does it. Her train of thought stopped abruptly as she heard the text tone. She read the message:
Olivia: Can’t be that bad. :)
She sighed as she texted back.
Marcy: I don’t know….when we first got here I thought I stepped into a time machine…. She told Olivia everything--the strange house, Jenny’s peculiar reasons for living there, the shock of the modern upstairs, and the butler. Olivia returned her text almost immediately.
Olivia: Hm. Well, at least you can talk to me and at least the rest of the house doesn’t look like the front! :D
Marcy: I guess.
Olivia: Just look on the bright side. You can probably do whatever you want! Did you bring money?
Marcy: Yeah, enough for a good bit of shopping. I think Mom and Dad felt bad for me.
Olivia: Good. Send me pictures of all the stuff you get, okay? I have to go, Mom’s calling me. :P Talk to you soon, bye!
Marcy: Bye
Marcy set down her phone. Why oh why can’t I be like Olivia? I’d have so much more fun in life. She opened up the closet and tossed her suitcase onto the floor, then began to hang up her shirts. The first thing she noticed was the abundance of hangers. The second thing was a small door near the corner of the closet. It was only about five inches high, and, strangely, had a small sign hanging on it, which swung back and forth like the door had been opened recently. Marcy bent down to look at it. She peered at the sign. Miniscule writing was inscribed on the plaque. She bent closer. Barely, she made out the words, “do not disturb.” Huh. She thumped the door. Nothing happened. Weird.
Disappointed, she stood back up and returned to hanging up her clothes.
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When she finished, Marcy looked at the clock hanging on the wall. Only three? Ugh. What am I supposed to do with all this time? she thought. She flopped on her bed and lay prostrate among the many pillows. I wonder what the rest of the house looks like….
Quietly, she wandered out of her room into the hallway. The house was silent. She peeked into some of the other rooms. They were spacious, with walls painted light colors like hers. There were two doors opposite each other about halfway down the hall. They were shut completely. Tentatively, Marcy tried the handles. They were locked. Hm...must be Aunt Jenny’s room. But whose room is that?
She looked around her. No one was near. Still wary, she looked under the crack between the hardwood floor and the door. She saw part of a room, and also, some black men’s dress shoes. Barely, Marcy contained a gasp and scooted frantically away from the door. Must be the butler’s room. She got up as quietly as she could and tiptoed away from the door. Back at her room, she noticed a door, partly glass, all the way at the end of the hall. Wonder what that room is? Curious, she wiggled the knob. It was unlocked. She pulled open the door and was faced with a short flight of stairs, which she climbed. At the top, she found a large room with a couch and some chairs surrounding a widescreen television. A small kitchenette was situated in the corner, complete with a microwave, sink, and a fridge. Marcy checked out the television. She saw two game consoles and several games in a shelf with a large collection of movies. Huh. Nice. Maybe I can watch some of these. She slowly ran her hand along the movies. I’ve been wanting to watch this one, and this one too.
Having seen all of the TV room, Marcy tromped down the small flight of stairs and thumped down the bigger spiral one.
She walked down the old fashioned hallway into another modern hallway much like the one upstairs. It had the same blue walls of her room and was decorated with various baubles--small square mirrors, a splash of white dots, and a picture here and there. She observed the pictures with mild interest as she moved down toward the end of the hall. There were a few pictures of Jenny’s childhood--one with her and Damion playing with a hose in the backyard of what Marcy recognized as her grandparents’ house, a few of family gatherings, and one which caught her eye immediately. The picture was different than the others. In the photo, Jenny stood beside a man, who she knew was not the butler. They had their arms around each other. The man was taller than Jenny, and had brown hair and dark brown eyes. Marcy leaned closer to the picture. He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. Jenny wore jeans and a pink blouse and looked immensely happy. But what interested Marcy the most was the man’s face. His eyes seemed to hold secrets (almost like Jenny’s, she noticed). He wore an easygoing smile, but his eyes contradicted it. They looked like the mysteries behind them were dark and full of death.
Strangely, after Marcy blinked and rubbed her eyes, disbelieving what she saw, and looked at the picture again, the eyes looked happy and loving. Marcy shook her head and inspected the photo. She still saw the carefree eyes. Huh. Weird. I must have imagined it. But I don’t remember Mom and Dad ever mentioning that Aunt Jenny was married. Huh. Maybe he was just a boyfriend. She resolved to ask Jenny later.
Marcy meandered down the photo hallway and came to a door, and then another hallway. The door was set in the wall of the photo hallway. She tried the knob. It was unlocked. Quietly, she opened the door a crack. She saw another hallway. Checking her surroundings for anyone, she opened the door a bit more and slipped through, shutting it behind her. There were a few doors down this hallway too. Marcy tried each one. They were all closets for cleaning supplies. She found a vacuum, mop, bleach, brushes, sponges, paper towels, soap, dusting cloths, and more. Disappointed, she snuck out of the supply hallway and back into the photo one. Thankfully, Marcy had a good memory, and was composing a map of the house in her head as she went. She entered the hallway she had noticed earlier, which branched off of the photo hallway. This one was very short and painted a pretty shade of light orange. I think I’ll call this one the sunset hallway, she thought. It’ll help me with my idea of the house if I give names to all the places.
She walked through it and came to a sand colored living room and a powder room. She stopped in the latter to take a bathroom break and then exited the sunset hallway back into the photo one. It didn’t last long--the photo hallway abruptly turned and changed color. It was now pale purple, similar to one of the rooms upstairs. This hall was short too. Marcy suddenly came into a large room that was a combined kitchen, breakfast nook, and dining room. She examined it and decided that it was her favorite so far. It had by far the most windows and was quite spacious. The furniture and decor was to-date. The kitchen had all the latest appliances and a stylish backsplash with a theme of silver, brown and green. The floor was hardwood and very shiny, like it had just been cleaned.
Marcy leisurely strolled over to a pair of French doors off the living room. She opened one and stepped out into a screened in porch, complete with a table and chairs, a heat lamp, and a small beverage refrigerator in the corner. Sighing, she humphed down into a chair. It was wicker with a cushion and surprisingly comfortable. What am I going to do with all this time? she labored. I wish I could drive. Then I could at least go shopping or to Starbucks or whatever I wanted. Pulling out her phone, she glanced at it. Wow, 5:00 already. At least time’s going by kind of fast. Dinner’s at 6. What should I do until then?
I wonder if there’s a library? A house this big is bound to have at least something like one. She got up from the chair and left the porch. Entering the living room again, she looked around for another door or hallway. Ahah! She spotted a door coming off of the kitchen and opened it. It was a pantry. She searched again. Finding another door, this time adjoining the living room, she tried it. It was a bathroom. She had almost given up when she spied one more door off of the living room. She opened it and found a hallway. Maybe this goes to a library. Cautiously, she tiptoed down the darker hallway. She felt as if she wasn’t supposed to be there. She saw a door at the end of the hall and tested the knob. It was unlocked. Slowly, Marcy turned the doorknob and the door swung open.
She gasped. There was a massive library in the room before her. It was double the size of the kitchen-dining room. Tall shelves filled with books rose to the ceiling. This room is huge! I didn’t think a personal library could be this big! thought Marcy as she stared at the room in awe. She walked in, head swiveling from side to side as she took it all in. The books were very different, she noticed--some were old and very dusty, and some looked like they had been published that month. She strolled over to a shelf and took a book off of it. It was one of the older ones, and Mythology: Legends From All Cultures was the title. Marcy opened it. A cloud of dust flew up from the book. She coughed, waving her hand before her face. Ew, she thought. Wonder who was the last person who opened this? The pages looked very fragile with age. Carefully, so as not to break them, she turned to a random place in the book and began to read. “Mythology is typically based on truth. There are a few exceptions--for example, the gods of various cultures. This is most obviously not true. Several reasons for this have been proved.
“First, the gods, if they were real, would be the same for each people, as would their methods of required worship. If this were valid, archaeologists would have found evidence to the contrary. Instead, they have found many different practices. The ancient Mayans, for example, had very bloody rituals and often sacrificed their own people to their gods.
“On the other hand, the Greek gods also made sacrifices to their gods, but these sacrifices were often animals--a bull, a goat, a sheep.
“There are also other proofs. In addition, the--”
Marcy heard a sound, like the creaking of a door from the other side of the room. She hastily closed the book and slipped it back onto the shelf as quietly as she could, then made her escape. She shut the door behind her and let out a breath. Silently, Marcy tiptoed down the hall, let herself out, and then ran through the house upstairs to her room. She panted from her run as she collapsed on her bed. Whew. That was risky. I want to go back though. Might be worth it. If I’m going to be stuck here I may as well read some stuff. Maybe there’s some interesting books in there. She glanced at her watch. It was almost time to eat.
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My formatting is wacky again :/ sorry. Oh well. You'll probably have to go back and read the first parts.
My formatting is wacky again :/ sorry. Oh well. You'll probably have to go back and read the first parts.
~~Zoë Wingfeather
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