A Drop of Scarlet by Jemiah Jefferson

Author:Jemiah Jefferson [Jefferson, Jemiah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781477806654
Publisher: AmazonEncore
Published: 2011-05-03T04:00:00+00:00

XI

SPOOKY ACTION AT A DISTANCE

MARGARET WILLIAMS

Aunty W. wouldn’t strike you as the kind of person who would go nuts with the holiday decorations, but when I was still a block away I could see the front porch of the house strung with thick white fake cobwebs, and the steps and porch railing precisely lined with jack-o’lanterns of every conceivable kind. They were carved out of big orange pumpkins, little orange pumpkins, big white pumpkins, striped squashes, even a couple of tall, curved zucchinis, their expertly cut faces long and distorted, as if seen in a funhouse mirror. Aunty W. took it very seriously, since it was her only artistic outlet, and she was incredibly good at it. She was the undisputed queen of squash-carving, spending an entire day attacking the poor veggies with blunt blades and razor-sharp X-acto knives, slicing out dozens of varied and grotesque expressions. I guess reading all that Dante stimulated her imagination, what with all those shades and lost souls in the multiple levels of hell.

In the foyer, the walls sported paper witches on broomsticks, grinning black cats, tombstones, and cheerful-looking ghosts, and the requisite bright-orange and black HAPPY HALLOWEEN! banner. Aunty W. always gave a Halloween party for her students—bobbing for apples and candlelight readings of Edgar Allan Poe stories, translated into Latin, of course. It was actually pretty fun, and very popular for a bunch of undergrad kids. I had been lucky enough to attend one of these parties when I was fifteen, and ended up French-kissing some PSU freshman out in the backyard. My first real kiss—great at first, but then he had put his hand down my shirt and I’d freaked, shoved him away, and ran back inside. Minutes later I saw him making out with some other, older girl, and then Aunty W. had politely but firmly told them both to leave. I never told anybody about the kiss, even though I’d stayed up all night thinking about it, wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped him. Wishing to God I hadn’t stopped him.

I was glad to be indoors, away from the pumpkins, and took my jacket and hat off with a sigh of relief. I’d gotten barely four hours of sleep, and I tossed and turned the whole time, waking up even more tired than before. The damp, moody weather didn’t help, either. Uncle Stan raised his eyebrow at me as I slid myself heavily into the chair next to him. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he said, trying to be funny, I guess.

“I’m not used to being up this early anymore,” I explained, pouring myself a cup of coffee. As soon as I had sipped it, I found that I didn’t really want to eat, even though Aunty W. was as skilled at breakfast as she was at . . . well, everything she did, pretty much. Damn her. I just needed coffee; something to help me get through this friendly, catching-up breakfast, and then I’d go home and catch a few winks before doing some paperwork for Ariane.

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