Despite the door that separates me from them, I hear their words clearly.
“It’s a ritual,” Jeb says.
“Have you seen it first hand?” the young man asks. He is new to our household and his voice always stands out against the other, more familiar tones. I cannot remember his name.
“One does not work in this household so long without seeing it.”
The young servant exhaled, a sort of gasp that turned into a nervous laugh.
“I’ve heard stories, but….I never believed them. It sounds like madness.”
Jeb’s reply was swift, but low, so that I nearly had to strain to hear.
“Unholy is what it is. You’ll do well to not speak of such things. Here. Or anywhere.”
Jeb cleared his throat then, as if to signal the end of this discussion.
“A visitor will be coming up tonight. You’re to meet him by the gate. Be gracious. We’ve got a room for him upstairs already.”
The two men moved down the hall, and then their voices were lost to me.
I wait, alone in the darkness, with only the light from my fireplace.
I move slightly, my fingertips out before me. When I raise my hands to the fire, I can feel the warmth surge through my skin.
I wait, for the visitor whose carriage is already on its way up through the wilderness.
Copyright, Lori Titus 2009
Fantastic dialogue, suspense, perspective. Poor visitor;)