The Adventures of Edwin D Ferretti, Author
Stepping inside the house I walked back in time into the Victorian era. The long hallway extended to a pair of glass doors leading to the back yard, two hundred feet away. The paneled walls were done in light stained oak as was the arched ceiling. Two sweeping staircases on both sides of the hallway led to the second floor. Three chandeliers were evenly spaced down the hallway. Cynthia led me to two large oaken doors and slid them apart. She stood aside as I entered into a room that was twice the size of my home.
"This is the sitting room. Cindy and I enjoyed many hours of reading books and playing music together. Did you know that she was a gifted violinist?" I shook my head and she pointed to one of two large matching settees.
To my right was a large fireplace and opposite that stood four glass-door book cases; almost as tall as the eight foot ceiling. Behind the settee facing me stood a full Grand Piano. A music stand stood next to the piano and on a chair rested a violin case, waiting to be opened. The walls were covered with large oil paintings and the ceiling had a reproduction of Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam as seen in the Sistine Chappell, God's eyes moved as I stared at him. I blinked and looked again; God was once again fixated on Adam's extended finger. Large pastel colored handmade rugs covered the polished oak floors.
I hadn't noticed Cynthia's absence until she returned with a large silver tray filled with small sandwiches, salad, coffee, cookies and china. She placed it on the round marble topped table in front of the fireplace.
"You look like a man who hasn't had a proper meal in decades; broad shoulders, tall and handsome but skinny as a nail." She had me pegged to a tee. I grinned and followed her pointing finger. The food was delicious and filling. We both took our coffee black and sat together on the couch.
"I don't believe that Cindy is dead. I think that she stepped through a time portal and can't find the way back." I'd never heard words like that before but my writer's mind quickly accepted the possible reality of it.
"What do you base this theory on?" She stood and walked to a series of built in drawers and returned with a black leather covered book.
"This is Cindy's diary and in it she tells all. I have been waiting for someone to read it and help me bring my sister back." She handed it to me. "Please don't share this with anyone and return it once you've read it." I agreed and opened the book. Page after page of delicate feminine handwriting flowed across each page.
"Why me, and how did you know about my encounter with Cindy?"
She smiled, "Vick is a personal friend and informs me of any new developments about the disappearance of my sister. Besides Cindy often visits me and fills me in on what's happing where she's trapped." She stood with fire in her eyes. "It's all our father's fault that Cindy is gone," she yelled. Then she collapsed on the settee, tears flowing down her face. I consoled her as best that I could. I went to the fireplace and brought back several tissues. They became soggy and I started to cram them inside a pocket when Cynthia's hand grabbed mine. Her moist red eyes locked on my face.
"Cindy chose you because she said that you were a living Ink-pen." My eyes opened wide.
"An Ink-pen, what did she mean?"
"She told me that you are gifted and once you connect with her anything that you write about her will happen, but not on Earth. You have the talent to bring her back with words!" Bring her back with words.
"If the answers are inside her diary then I'll do everything in my power to help her return. I want to meet her in the flesh." Cynthia smiled at me.
"She did tell me she liked you." My face blushed.
"The next foggy night I will be locked inside the library. If she shows I'll learn all about her situation." Cynthia smiled again and stood.
"Thank you Mr. Ferretti, time for you to get to work. Read the diary and make your own decision about her fate."
"David, please call me David. I'll begin reading it tonight." The heart-cadence once again danced happily across my chest.
"Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration,
the rest of us just get up and go to work."
~ Stephen King
THE DARKSIDE OF THE MEDALLION
To be continued.