The Kelping (Rewind or Die Book 9) by Jan Stinchcomb

Author:Jan Stinchcomb [Stinchcomb, Jan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unnerving
Published: 2020-05-28T05:00:00+00:00

2.

The kelp was growing out of control. Craig kept finding small dried flakes in his sheets. He couldn’t wear socks without something snagging on them. Bits of fresh, wet kelp came off in his fingers whenever he absentmindedly scratched at the wound. When Craig came out of the shower the Friday after the festival, a long piece of kelp was flapping against his leg. Anxious to be rid of it, he cut it off with a pair of manicure scissors and flushed it down the toilet. All his medical training felt far away.

He was drawn to the cake in the garage but there was no time for it. He got dressed and called his office to say that he would be a little bit late.

Craig had not been to the Beachside Museum of History since he was a kid. From the outside, the place looked like it had not changed at all. Three stories high with a plain stone façade, the museum stood at the end of a residential street not far from a busy avenue. Craig, driven by the crisis in his body, craved the quiet and controlled atmosphere of the museum. And he had some questions about the Sea King Festival. Yes, he definitely needed to catch up with his hometown. When everything was back to normal, he would bring the children here, let Dash see that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Surely there was no mermaid in the attic.

Craig entered through a heavy glass door. A breeze blew over him and he smelled the sea. In the lobby, Mrs. Delmar (he never thought of her as simply Marjorie) was sitting behind an antique desk with a shell-shaped top. “Hello, Doctor Bo,” she said.

“Nice to see you again. I guess I’m famous now.”

“Of course.” She held up the Beachside Mirror where he was featured, fully kelped, on the front page. It was strange to see himself in an actual newspaper instead of on a screen. The photo made the event seem both more real and yet long ago.

Craig wasn’t sure how to begin. “Yes. We saw you there too, of course, with your fancy camera.”

“I’m there every year.”

They fell into an awkward silence, and then Mrs. Delmar explained that admission was free today and that flash photography was not allowed. As she spoke, Craig wondered how long she had been working at the museum.

Craig leaned in to study her face. Marjorie Delmar looked fantastic for her age.

“It’s great that you’re open today,” Craig said, slipping a twenty into the donation box. “I’m only here for one thing, actually. I would like to see the collection of photographs from the past Sea King Festivals, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Doctor Bo.”

The Beachside Museum of History, while unassuming from the street, was a favorite of the Historical Society, and its interior was often featured on postcards and calendars. Craig remembered, vaguely, climbing its spiral staircases, but not every floor was open to the public, or at least that was the case when he had visited as a child.

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