Blood Rituals (The Crossroads Series Book 3) by Stephen King

Author:Stephen King
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2014-12-12T08:00:00+00:00

Intervention

Davis Stevenson was an artist who was looking to find isolation. He had just recently divorced his wife, Carla who had had an affair with his good friend, Steve. His life of late was filled with emotional turmoil; his idea of therapy was to throw himself into his work and get away from all of the noise and distractions of the city. As a matter of fact, he had moved out of the house that he had lived in with his wife in Nashville. He had just answered an ad in the paper about an old country house that was for rent way out in the sticks. It was a white, Victorian-style country home that had just been newly painted on the outside. The inside was fully furnished with the same furniture that had been in the house for many decades. Behind the house were forty hilly and wooden acres except for a small overgrown garden in the back of the house. A little creek wound around behind the garden. It was the picture of isolation and there weren't any neighbors for many miles around; just more hills and woods.

Davis set up his easel in the front room near the hearth. He thought this room would provide the most inspiration because it was full of very large windows that allowed it to become illuminated by the morning sun. He felt that in this setting, he could almost pretend that the past did not exist and begin life anew. Just as he began to make a few strokes with his oil paints on the canvas, there was a knock at the door. It was Mary Walton, the seventy-four year old owner of the house. She had lived in the house for many years with her family but was now the only one still alive. When Davis opened the door, she smiled and held out a fresh pie that she had baked.

“Hi Davis, I just wanted to see how well you were settling in and if there was anything that you needed,” she said.

“I’m settling in just fine, Ms. Walton. I was just getting ready to begin work on a new piece but I appreciate your visit and the pie,” he said taking the pie out of her hands. “Would you like to come inside for a minute?”

“Eh, no dear, I have some errands to run in town, I better not,” Davis noticed that the expression on her face seemed to change when he mentioned coming inside and he thought that to be very odd. “Please let me know if you need anything; if anything is, eh, well, not to your liking give me a call, anytime,” she said as an awkward smile came across her face.

“Thanks Ms. Walton: I sure will,” he said and then he closed the door. She is very nice, but somewhat odd, he thought to himself, going back to the canvas. Oddly, his paints were now on the mantel instead of the chair were he left them.

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