The Adventures of Edwin D Ferretti, Author
On the drive home I couldn't shake the feeling that this task I'd been assigned wasn't gona be a cake walk. The whole concept of portals to another world sounded ridiculous. However, I'm a writer and have doors in my mind that I can open with a thought; I imagined the possibilities and asked myself what if portals existed. The term Ink Pen sounded familiar; I'd either read a book with a similar name or seen the movie.
After securing the car for the night I went to my kitchen and warmed up a cup of my favorite hot brew, grabbed two Twinkies from the shelf and went to the front room. I turned on my ten-inch Teak reel-to-reel and set the volume low. The sounds of the thirties and forties filled in the background. Sitting in my chair with my feet on the coffee table I opened Cindy's diary.
The first page of the diary was dated a year before Cindy took the job of managing the library. In two days time she and her sister were going to perform a newly discovered sonata called süße Träume (Sweet Dreams), written for piano, violin, two violas and a cello, by Beethoven. The yellowed newspaper clippings, glued to the page, proclaimed the concert a success. After thirty minutes of reading I realized that I was looking at Chattertown through her eyes. I skimmed ahead until I reached a page written in bold red ink. The page screamed at me.
Damn you father. How dare you treat Cynthia and me as your personal slaves? I know it was you that caused mother to disappear from our lives. Some of the letters of the last sentence flowed down the paper; placing my fingers lightly on the page, I experienced Cindy's tears falling from her face. My mood changed from curious to sad. I entered a note into my tape recorder to ask Cynthia about this page; the words slaves and disappearance of their mother bothered me. I stood and laid Cindy's diary on the coffee table. Something in the kitchen was calling my name and I headed in that direction.
I knew what was in the cabinets; nothing nourishing. Checking the refrigerator I found the makings for a ham, lettuce and tomato sandwich. Come to think about it, I live out of my refrigerator; no wonder I'm as skinny as a nail. I need a reason to get out more. Cindy's image filled my mind. Pouring a tall glass of Ginger Ale I sat down at the small table and had a stingy dinner. A ripe pear and blue cheese filled in for desert.
A whistling noise drew my attention back to the living room. Opening the kitchen door I stood in awe. A whirling collection of colors filled my view, yet nothing of mine was flying around. Soft giggling and laughter assaulted my ears. This is a happy thing, but what's it doing in my house and who's laughing? Something told me this was connected with Cindy. Gathering my courage, I walked to my chair and sat down. Moving my hand in front of me left a trail of colors; my mood swung from sad to happy. The pages of the diary began to turn, stopping halfway through the book at another page written in red ink. Something smacked me hard on the back of my head and I heard a dull thud on the carpet behind me. My hands flew up and covered my ears. Lilting voices filled my mind; "Read it and see it," they shouted.
"Read and see what," I shouted back. Raising my head I watched the colors vanish, leaving me dazed and wondering what just happened. Was Cindy showing me that portals exist? Read it must refer to her diary. With trembling fingers I set the diary on my lap, tilted it up and began reading.
Two days ago Cynthia and I found father's study door open. We couldn't find him anywhere so we both entered and looked around. Books of magic covered every table and chair in the room. Hand drawn charts were drawn on the painted walls and the ceiling depicted a series of stars and planets that weren't in our galaxy. (See envelope in the back of the book for pictures). An arrow pointed to a planet with three moons circling around it. Above the arrow was written a word that froze my blood; Rachel, our mother's name.
Cindy and I looked everywhere for anything like our fathers' diary, notes, and pictures but found none. Not only was he gone so was everything that had any personal connection to his life.
Cindy was the one who found it; inside the large Victorian Armoire. Behind the doors was a swirling portal. I threw a book into it and a second later it was gone from our sight. Gone where? I don't know and this frightened me. We shut the doors and agreed never to open it again. We were now alone, Cynthia, I and our black cat Bast.
The words chilled me. I felt their desperation and it consumed me.
"Meow!" The loud cry scared me to death. My hands shook; the diary slipped from their grip. Sitting in front of me was a black cat. This can't be Bast? If this is Bast how did she get here? My mind was filled with questions; questions that only Cynthia knew the answers to.
"Meow—purr." After feeding the cat I carried her and the diary to the car and returned to Cynthia's house. Honestly I thought my heart was gona jump out of my chest. The door open and the cat walked into the home.
"Bast!" Cynthia scooped her up into her arms. I felt lightheaded. This can't be happing to me.
Written words on paper—mean nothing if they aren't complete.
However, a good fantasy book tells the whole story.
THE DARKSIDE OF THE MEDALLION
To be continued.