Books Everyone Should Read – Part 6

Watership Down

Usually the books I feature in “Books Everyone Should Read” are available free as eBooks, but alas, not this time. You should read it anyway. Buy a copy (I have about six). You can almost always find it at used book sellers. Pick it up from the library. But get it. It’s worth it.

On the surface, Watership Down seems to be a simple story about rabbits. It is far more than that. It is a complex alegory on the nature of society, of religion, of government, and of human (yes, human) nature. It is also an epic adventure in the spirit of the Odyssey, um… only with rabbits.

Not all of Richard Adams’ books are as well crafted, but they all have some of the most beautifully crafted prose of the past fifty years. I have loved this book since I was a teen, wrote papers about it in college, taught it to High School English students, and I still think it is one of the best books ever written. Read it and let me know what you think.

Read an eBook Week

Today marks the beginning of Read an E-Book Week (sic). Enjoy your reading.

His Robot Girlfriend – Chapter 6 Part 2

A quick drive to and then down the fabulous Las Vegas Strip brought them to the Olympic Gardens. It was a large warehouse looking structure that had been done over with faux Greek Columns (Doric columns, Mike noted) and ivy. In between each pair of columns was a huge poster of some fabulously beautiful and scantily clad female (or male!) stripper. Inside, the main room was decorated in red satin, with dozens of tables and booths surrounding a large main stage, which featured the required dancing pole.
Mike and Patience sat down at a large round booth. A waitress dressed and coifed as though she had fallen out of a gladiator movie came and took their drink orders. It was dark enough that Mike couldn’t tell if she was a robot or not. Though he did not drink as a rule, he ordered a Beefeater and tonic. Patience, of course, had bottled water. The bill came to $82.00, not including tip. Mike was surprised to see people eating as they watched the strippers. Such traditional ancient Greek cuisine as hot dogs and spicy chicken fingers seemed most popular.
As they sat, the first dancer came on stage. She was introduced by a hidden announcer as Bailey. She was young and blonde and quite attractive. Physically, she was proportioned about the same as Patience, but her large breasts did not have that feeling of defying gravity that Patience’s did. She came out in a pink mini-skirt and top, both zippered in front and in back. As she strutted up and down the stage, she unzipped first one and then the other. With a single flip, she removed both, allowing those huge breasts to bounce free and revealing a tiny g-string. She grabbed hold of the pole and began humping against it, spinning, and gyrating. A few moments later, she finished her routine and left the stage.
Several other dancers followed the first, each with a similar routine. There was a red-head named Tania with breasts so large that they actually frightened Mike a little bit. There was a pretty and quite athletic dancer named Sugar, and a chubby blonde stripper named Malachai, of all things. Yes, a girl named Malachai.
It was approaching midnight by this time, but rather than thinning out, the crowd got larger. Almost every table was full. Mike and Patience still managed to get another drink order from the harried waitress. Then a woman came out on stage. She appeared to be another dancer, but instead of beginning a routine, she put a microphone to her bright red lips and made an announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mike looked around and was moderately surprised to find that there were indeed more than a couple of ladies present. “It’s almost time for our Midnight Amateur Exotic Dancer Contest!”
“Can you dance?” asked Mike. “I mean, you know, strip?”
“Yes, Mike.”
“Then I definitely think you should enter this contest.”
“Do you think they will let me?”
Mike grabbed the passing waitress by the arm and asked her.
“Sorry, no robots. All of our dancers are real women. It says so on the sign out front.”
“Not even for the amateur show?”
“It’s a contest. It wouldn’t be fair.”
By this time a dozen women were leaving their seats in the audience to be ushered behind the stage. Mike finished his drink. He and Patience didn’t wait for the show to begin. They got up and headed for the exit, their seats filled almost as soon as they had vacated them. Just as they reached the exit, the announcer came back on.
“Our first contestant tonight is a local girl.” The crowd cheered. “Here for your enjoyment is the very sexy Alyssa!”
Alyssa was a pretty dark-haired girl, but she was plainly nervous. She had apparently dressed back stage in the standard stripper attire– miniskirt, tube top, garter belts and stockings. She stumbled more than strutted to the front of the stage and stopped several feet before reaching the optimum position. She swung her hips to the left and the right several times, then with trembling hands pulled the tube top up over her head. The crowd applauded and cheered, and this apparently gave her a little more confidence. She grabbed hold of the pole and tossed up her heels a few times.
“I know you could have won the contest,” said Mike, as he went out the front door.
“You cannot be sure Mike, as you have never seen me dance.”
“Well, we should rectify that immediately,” said Mike.
As they climbed into another cab and told the driver to return them to the Palms, Mike noted the “Real Live Girls! No Robots!” sign on the outside of the building.
“Say, how come we came here?”
“Didn’t you want to come?” asked Patience.
“I guess so, but you were the one who told the cab where to go.”
“I told you I would know what you wanted before you did.”
Back in the hotel room, Patience sat Mike on the edge of the bed and went into the bathroom to change. She poked her head out the door and in a remarkable imitation of the female announcer at the Olympic Gardens, said. “And now, from California, here’s Patience!” Mike applauded.
Patience strutted out as though she were already dancing. She had on her same top and her own shoes, but she had replaced her jeans with a black miniskirt. When she reached the spot directly in front of Mike, she spun in a perfect five hundred forty degree circle, so that she came to a stop facing away from him. She then bent over at the waist and began to gyrate her perfect ass at his face. Mike whistled. He was aroused and she was still fully clothed. Patience danced forward and wrapped herself around the doorway to the bathroom, using the doorjam as a stripper would use a pole. She twirled to the side and began to sensually slide up and down. She threw her arms back, holding herself off the floor with her thigh muscles alone. She slowly let herself slide to the floor and then rose up to gyrate back and forth across the room.
She slinked forward, and whipped off the miniskirt so quickly that Mike didn’t see how she had removed it. Beneath it she was wearing her own pink lace thong. With an equally slick move, she removed her top and those magnificent breasts were revealed. There was an audible gasp at the sight, and it took Mike a moment to recognize it as his own. Cupping her breasts with her hands, she tossed her head back; eyes closed, and let her hands trail down the sides of her body, all the time rolling her hips in a circular motion. She then raised her arms up and placed her hands behind her head and slowly dropped to splits that a college cheerleader would have been proud of. She tossed her hair with one hand and with one finger of the other suggestively tugged down her bottom lip.
“That was amazing,” said Mike, applauding. “I can’t believe that you belong to me.”
“I am for you, Mr. Smith.”
The following morning, Mike went down to the casino to gamble. Patience stayed in the room. She wasn’t allowed on the casino floor and she utilized the time to clean and organize their possessions and to read. Mike played twenty-one at the gaming tables for a short time, but quickly lost the three hundred dollars that he had allowed for that purpose. He then walked to the side of the casino and played poker on the machines. He had played for ten minutes or so, when a robot cocktail waitress stopped by. He ordered a gin and tonic. When the mechanical woman had left, he looked up and around. He noticed the series of shops running along the length of the casino. Perhaps he could buy some more new clothes for Patience. There was a tattoo parlor. He idly wondered if her skin would hold tattoo ink. And at the far end was a wedding chapel.
Perhaps he should marry Patience. He didn’t wonder whether he should ask her to marry him. There was no question of her answer. She was his. Did he love her? He knew that he didn’t want to be without her. He did love her. But did he love her the way he loved his vueTee or did he love her the way that he had loved Tiffany. He wasn’t even sure if he remembered how he had loved Tiffany anymore. He stood up and walked over to the wedding chapel.
Just inside the glass doors draped with white decorations, Mike found a small counter with a woman standing behind it. She was tall and attractive, her blonde wavy hair a stark contrast to her chocolate skin. She looked up and smiled.
“Good morning,”
“Good morning,” replied Mike. “How much does it cost to get married?”
The woman rewarded him with a broad smile. “We have weddings from three hundred dollars.”
“Really? That’s amazingly inexpensive.”
“That’s just for a simple in and out service,” she said. “We have many extras, such as a video record of the nuptials and we can accommodate large weddings, with receptions for up to two thousand guests.”
“No. In and out was what I was thinking about.”
“The three hundred does not include the minister. We have one on duty, if you don’t have one of your own. His fee is one hundred fifty dollars. And of course, you must have a license.”
“Do you sell those here?”
“Oh, no. You have to buy a license from the county.”
As it turned out, in order to purchase a marriage license in Las Vegas, Mike had to drive to the Clark County Building. It sat amid massive skyscrapers just west of Glitter Gulch. Patience had seemed ecstatic when Mike told her that they were to be married. Of course, now that he thought of it, she seemed ecstatic about almost anything he decided to do. They arrived at just before ten a.m. and walked up to a window. A blond woman looked out at them through a window with a small round hole cut in it.
“Can I help you?”
“We would like to purchase a marriage license.”
“I need to see your birth certificates please.”
“Um, we don’t have birth certificates…”
“That’s alright,” she said. “Let me have your drivers’ licenses and I can pull up your birth records.”
Mike set his driver’s license on the counter. The woman behind the window looked at Patience.
“I don’t have a driver’s license,” said Patience.
“National ID?”
Patience shook her head.
“Wait a second,” said the woman behind the glass, squinting her eyes. “You’re a robot.”
Patience nodded.
“You can’t marry a robot.” The woman turned to Mike.
“Why not?”
“What do you mean ‘why not’? She’s not a person. She’s a machine. I might as well marry my shower massage.”
“Perhaps that’s too much information,” suggested Patience.
“Look at her,” said Mike to the woman behind the glass. “She speaks. She thinks. She wants to get married. Don’t you, Patience.”
Patience nodded.
“It doesn’t matter,” the woman replied. “Under the Nevada Constitution, marriage is defined as a contract between a man and a woman. And robots by Nevada law are neither man nor woman.”
“You mean gay marriage is illegal in Nevada?” asked Mike.
“Of course not.”
“Well that wouldn’t be a man and a woman. That would be a man and a man, or a woman and a woman.”
“I’m not going argue with you about it, sir,” said the blond woman. “If you don’t like the law, I suggest you go to a different state.”
“Well, how do you like that?” said Mike, as they walked to the car.
“Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all,” said Patience.
“You don’t want to marry me?”
“Of course I do, if it would make you happy. I don’t want you to get into trouble though.”
“Don’t worry. They don’t throw people in jail for illegally marrying… well, not usually. Let’s forget about it for now and go to the Star Trek Experience. That is really why we came to Vegas anyway.”
By the time they pulled into the massive parking lot of the Tangiers, Patience, not unexpectedly, seemed as excited as Mike was to visit the home of Captains Kirk, Picard, Sisko, Janeway, Archer, and Winters. They parked and locked the car, and then they headed inside. The Star Trek experience was located at the end of one space themed section of the casino. As they approached, Mike pointed out to Patience the twelve foot long models of the USS Enterprise-F and the USS Excalibur hanging from the ceiling. Just to the right of the entrance was the ticket booth. They were able to step right up. There was no one waiting in line. The clerk behind the counter was not dressed as a Star Trek character, but was wearing a Star Trek Experience jacket.
“Two, please,” said Mike.
“That will be one hundred eighty one dollars and forty seven cents.”
“What?” said Mike. “A hundred eighty one?”
“Yes, but that includes all three rides and the museum tour.”
“Shit. No wonder the Federation stopped using money. They were probably all broke.”

Gods Behaving Badly – A Review


I just finished reading “Gods Behaving Badly” by Marie Phillips. Of course I read it on my Sony PRS-505 eBook Reader, and it is available in a variety of eBook formats, just in time for Read an eBook week. Simply put, this was the best book I have read in a long time. It was funny, sad, surprising, sad again, and then funny again.

Imagine the Greek Olympians were still around today, power diminished, living in London. Though they still do their jobs– Apollo still sees that the sun comes up and goes down, Ares still manages war, and Hermes still delivers the dead to Charon the boatman as well as over-seeing the world’s money– they have little extra power and have to work for their money. Aphrodite has a job as a phone sex operator, Artemis walks dogs, and Apollo has an idea for a television show in which he plays a psychic.

The book is well-researched and the gods are perfectly portrayed. The two main human characters in the story are very real and their relationship is very touching. Most of all, the book is extremely well-written. It is very witty, well-plotted, and the language use is wonderful.

I highly recommend this book to anyone. If you have a love of mythology or fantasy you will really appreciate it.

My School District Sucks – Part 2


Alright, maybe it’s not so bad after all. I can get back on my blog. I’m still waiting for a raise though, or maybe a few less students in my tiny classroom…. Maybe one of these guys can help.

Princess of Amathar – Chapter 10 Excerpt


“Wow,” I said.

“This is most definitely not an Orlon site,” reiterated the Amatharian. “Their technology never reached anywhere near this level.”

“I wonder what else these shapes do.” I said, stepping around to the cube.

I placed my hand on the side of the cube, which felt warm to the touch, and marveled as another giant image appeared opposite the first. This image was of a beautiful green field, obviously cultivated. In the distance, to the right was the edge of a great forest of extremely tall coniferous evergreen trees. At about the same distance but to the left, one could see the edge of a strange and marvelous city. It was made up of ivory colored buildings with reddish roofs– each roof topped by a craved animal figure. In the foreground, as well as around the city, were the inhabitants.

The people living in the strange city, playing around it, and working in the fields looked remarkably like a child’s teddy-bear. They were covered with light brown fur, had very large round ears on the top of their heads, and large expressive eyes above their small snouts. They came in a variety of sizes, probably males, females, and children. Some of the small ones seemed to be playing tag just outside the city. Larger ones were working in the field, pulling up green vegetables of some kind. Still others, of several sizes, were busy within the confines of the city, though just what they were doing was impossible to tell at the present magnification on the image. They were probably doing the same things that humans on Earth did in their own cities.

“I do not know that race of people,” said Malagor. “I wonder who they are, and where in Ecos that place is.”

“Or when,” I offered. “For all we know, that may be a stored image of the ancient Orlons, or even their ancestors.”

Norar Remontar and I were both fascinated by the images, and we began moving around the shapes, placing our hands here and there and watching the scenes produced on the three blank walls of the room. Most were of wild places with nothing but plant life and an occasional animal, though the locale of each was noticeably different. There were scenes of deserts, of forests, and of jungles. Finally I placed a hand upon the sphere at a point as yet untouched and a picture of a hillside replaced an earlier scene on the wall opposite the door. Standing on the hillside were two Amatharian men.

“Bentar Hissendar!” Shouted Norar Remontar.

“You know him?” I asked the obvious.

“He is a friend and kinsman of mine,” the Amatharian replied. “He works within my uncle’s trading group.”

The two Amatharians did indeed look to be kinsmen of Norar Remontar. They were both handsome, with straight black hair and dark blue skin. They both wore black body suits and white tabards with crests upon them, marking them as knights. The first one, whom Norar Remontar had identified as Bentar Hissendar sported the crest of a flaming sun held by a stylized hand. The other’s crest was that of a flaming sun raining light rays downward. They were picking up rocks from the hillside and examining them. Since there was no sound in the images, it was difficult to figure out what was going on. The other man said something to Bentar Hissendar, who laughed and punched the man playfully on the shoulder. Then the two walked off the edge of the image, leaving nothing on the screen but the side of the hill.

“That image at least seems to be of the present,” said Norar Remontar. “though I cannot say where that place would be. Bentar Hissendar looks just the same as when I last saw him, and if I am not mistaken, that other fellow is Tular Maximinos, though I have not seen him since he became a knight.”

“It seems amazing to me that there is no one here keeping an eye on this place,” I said.

“Indeed,” replied the Amatharian. “This is an important find. I am sure that my people will wish to have this chamber under Amatharian control.”

“I think that the Ancient Orlons must have found this place long ago. That is the message in the little room,” observed Malagor.

“They may have found it, but they did not create it. This is definitely far beyond any technology that they possessed.”

“Then who did create it,” I wondered, all the while continuing to press points on the geometric shapes.

I put my palm once again up to one of the shapes, this time the dodecahedron, but this time no image appeared on the wall. Instead a section of the wall disappeared, creating a doorway to a small anteroom. This room appeared to be a smaller version of the room we were in, with similar walls and similar lighting, but with two exceptions– there were no large geometric shapes on the floor, and on the wall there was a black panel with a frame around it, opposite the doorway. The framed panel looked very much like a window.

I stepped into the room followed by my two friends. Crossing the small chamber, I pressed my face up against the black panel, but could discern nothing beyond the glass, if it was glass. I was about to ask if Malagor or Norar Remontar had any idea as to the purpose of the room, when the opening behind us disappeared, sealing us in. A fraction of a second later, I felt my stomach shoot upwards, as though I were standing in an incredibly fast elevator going down. There was no vibration, nor any other sensation of movement, but I knew that this must be what this was– a highly advanced and very fast elevator.

“Ummph,” said Malagor, as the air returned to his lungs.

“We are going down…fast,” said Norar Remontar.

“Yes,” said the furry fellow. “but where are we going down to?”

Mobile Read Forums

Mobile Read Forums is a great place for information about eBooks and eBook readers of all varieties. It is also a great place to find free eBooks. If the book you want is in their vast library, it is the BEST place to get it. Unlike Manybooks.net or Feedbooks.com, where the books are laid out by computer program, the books at Mobile Read Forums have been lovingly crafted by people.

Friday’s Post


Friday’s excerpt of The Voyage of the Minotaur was a difficult one for me to write. It is the first time I tried to write anything that had to do with a child predator. I’ve rewritten quite a bit several times with feedback, and I hope I’ve hit it right– not too graphic, but still clear enough for the reader to know what’s going on.

The Voyage of the Minotaur – Chapter 9 Excerpt


Senta got up from her chair and found that her legs were decidedly wobbly, her vision was wiggly, and the two helpings of trifle in her stomach were not getting along with the toad-in-the-hole. She started for the door, but found her feet making an inexplicable turn toward the wall. One of the waiters took her by the shoulders and guided her back on track, opened the door for her, and closed it once she was in the outside corridor. It was a short trip from Miss Dechantagne’s cabin to the main deck, which was a good thing; because Senta didn’t think she could have made it much further. She grabbed hold of the railing and walked twenty or thirty steps until she came to the steel dragon, still in his animal carrier box. She sat down on top of it, and scooted down so that she could lie back across it. She closed her eyes on the bright myriad of stars looking down upon her.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, but eventually she had the feeling that someone else was there with her. She opened her eyes to see a pasty-faced man with a very round face and horn rimmed glasses looking down at her. His hair was slicked down and oily looking and he had a pinched expression on his face that made his mouth look unnaturally small. She looked at him for several moments and he looked back and blinked several times.

“Hello,” said Senta.

“Hello,” he replied. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know.”

The man smiled without showing his teeth. His smile reached from his chin to the middle of his nose. His eyes, magnified by glasses, stayed the same. He had no facial hair or sideburns, but he had several small cuts on his face as if he had injured himself while shaving. His suit was charcoal colored, and slightly shabby; something that Senta wouldn’t have noticed a few weeks before.

“Do you want to try getting up?” he asked.

“Alright.”

Senta sat up and immediately threw up at the man’s feet. Most of the vomit splattered across the wooden deck, though a bit of it ended up on his shoes and pants cuffs.

“Gawp,” said the dragon within his carrier.

The man’s mouth twitched to one side, but all he said was, “Feeling better?”

Senta nodded.

“Good,” he said. “We should get you somewhere where you can get washed up. Do you know how to get to your cabin from here?”

“No.”

“Then, I’ll take you to my cabin.”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“You wouldn’t want anyone to see you with vomit all over your shoes, would you?”

Senta looked down and, sure enough, she had gotten vomit on her own shoes too. The man took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. She was still pretty wobbly. He began to walk slowly along the deck, pulling her along with him.

“Gawp,” said the dragon, louder.

They went in the doorway just behind the one through which Senta had exited, and walked down the corridor. Senta started to feel a little better. At the end of the hallway, a set of narrow steps led down to the lower deck. Senta didn’t really want to go down, but the pasty-faced man had her hand firmly in his.

“Senta!”

Senta and the man both turned to see Miss Lusk walking down the hallway toward them. Though she was the shortest of the women that had been at the dinner party that evening, Miss Lusk was almost the exact same height as the oily-haired man. Her hat, which was a large straw affair covered in pink chiffon with a flower accent, made her seem a bit taller than him.

“Where are you going, Senta?” asked Miss Lusk.

“We were just going to get her cleaned up,” said the man. “The poor thing got sick on deck and lost her dinner.”

“Good evening, Mr. Murty,”

“Good evening, Miss Lusk.”

“It was very kind of you to help out with a sick child.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he replied. They stood looking at each other for a very long moment. Senta looked from one to the other.

“Well, we’ll go on and get the child cleaned up,” said Mr. Murty.

“I think I should take it from here.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to take the child below.”

“Wouldn’t be appropriate?” he asked. “Why not?”

“Taking care of children isn’t a man’s job.” Miss Lusk took Senta’s other hand and pulled until the child had both arms stretched out in either direction.

“I really don’t mind. I love children,” said Mr. Murty.

“You’ll make quite a father one day, I’m sure.”

“Let me take her.”

“I’ll take care of her,” said Miss Lusk. “I am a woman.”

“Yes, I keep forgetting,” said Mr. Murty, letting go of Senta’s hand. “Um, what with your, um, mathematics skills and all.”

“Good night, Mr. Murty!” Miss Lusk hurried down the hall with the girl in tow.

Miss Lusk led Senta forward and then down a different set of narrow stairs. They went quickly down three flights and then up the corridor a short ways to a door, which Miss Lusk unlocked and entered, pulling the girl in after her. It was a small room, only half the size of that in which Senta and Zurfina stayed. It held a single chair and a single bed. The red-headed woman set Senta on the mattress and had her lie back.

“Didn’t your mother tell you not to talk to strangers?” She asked.

“No.”

Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess – Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Wherein I reveal the mystery of my family

“You said that you do not live far from here,” I mentioned, once we had finished the pies. One might say the purloined pies, but I would insist that they rightly belonged to us in recompense for our unjust confinement.

“That is correct,” said he.
“The pies rightfully belong to us?”
“No. I live not far from her. Are you carrying on some other conversation in your head about the pies?”
“Of course not,” I replied. “You are an orphan.”
“I am well aware of that fact. There is no need to keep rubbing it in my face.”
“What I mean is you don’t have a proper home any more now that you are an orphan.”
“Even an orphan may have extended family,” he explained. “Perhaps I live with them.”
“Do you?”
“One might suppose that I do.”
“One might suppose a great many things,” said I. “But would it not be better to base our future activities less on supposition than on actual remembrances?”
“One might suppose we should,” said he.
“You have an odd way of talking,” I commented. “You don’t quite sound orphanish at all.”
“Really? How many orphans have you known?”
“Quite a few actually,” I revealed. “The Queen of Aerithraine…”
“With whom you once had the pleasure of spending a fortnight.”
“Indeed it is so. The Queen of Aerithraine has a soft spot for orphans. Some years back she opened an orphanage called Elleena’s House.”
“Is that because her name is Elleena?”
“Why would her name cause her a soft spot for orphans?” I wondered. “No, I believe it is because she was an orphan herself.” “No. Is it called Elleena’s House because her name is Elleena? And how could a queen be an orphan? Doesn’t she have to be a princess? Or did the King find her in an orphanage and come to sweep her off her feet? That would be a lovely story.”
“Well, there is no king,” said I.
“Gah!” he exclaimed. “You are the worst story-teller in the world. You are messing everything up and making me confused.”
“Forsooth! I am the best story-teller in the world. I do not expect you to know so, as you are an unfortunate orphan without any knowledge of the world.” I looked over my shoulder at his pinched little face. “In truth I was not trying to tell you the story of the Queen of Aerithraine. If I had, you would be filled with wonder and excitement. I have made half my fortune from that story, and a better story, a truer story, a more profound story; you are not likely to hear in all the days of your life. But I was not trying to tell that story. I was trying to explain that the Queen of Aerithraine has a soft spot for orphans. In fact, I suppose that I do so myself, as I am almost an orphan.”
“You are almost an orphan?”
“Indeed.”
“How can you be almost an orphan?”
“Why couldn’t I be?” I demanded. “If anyone can be, I could be.”
“What I mean is…” He took a deep breath. “How can one be almost an orphan?”
“Oh. Well, it’s only that my parents aren’t dead.”
“I see,” said he.
“But they were kidnapped,” I confided.
“Are you sure they didn’t just run away?” he asked.
“It was a stormy night and I had been away from my parents’ home, which is to say my former home, which is to say Cor Cottage just outside Dewberry Hills, and I was returning for a visit. As I approached I heard a disturbance, though at first I attributed it to the sounds of the storm. Then I looked up at the cottage window to see figures silhouetted on the shade, locked in a grim struggle.”
“What did you do?”
“Why I rushed forward to aid my poor old mother, who as I recall smells of warm pie, and my poor old father, and my sister Celia, and my aunt Oregana, and my cousin Gervil, and my other cousin Tuki, who is a girl cousin, that is to say a cousin who is a girl, which makes sense, because whoever heard of a boy named Tuki.”
“They were all struggling by the window?”
“They may all have been struggling by the window, or some of them may have been, or perhaps only one of them was struggling by the window. I don’t know, because when I burst into the front door, they were all gone. The back door was open wide and the rain was splashing in.”
“What happened to them?”
“I know not.”
“Were there any clues?”
“Indeed there were.”
“What were they?”
“The table had been set for nine, which was two places too many.”
“Three places!” said the orphan triumphantly. “You thought I wasn’t paying attention. There was your father, mother, sister, aunt, and two cousins. That makes six.”
“They would also have set a place for Geneva.”
“Of course they would have. Who is she?”
“She’s my other cousin, which is to say Gervil’s sister, only she’s imaginary, but she wasn’t always imaginary, which is to say she died, but Gervil still sees her, so Aunt Oregana always sets a place for her.”
“What other clues?”
I listed them off. “There was a handkerchief embroidered with the monogram “P”. There was a knife stuck in Gervil’s bed. Floorboards had been loosened in several rooms. There were drops of purple liquid leading out the back door. And someone had hung bunches of onions from the rafters of the dining room. Most mysterious of all was the fact that the tracks led away from the house only fifty feet and then disappeared entirely.”
The orphan gripped me around the waist and squeezed. “How terrible,” he said, in a tiny voice.