Golden Box Book Publishing One Picture: Thousands of Words - Page 60

The idea made her shiver inside. Like the tickle of an invisible finger running up her spine. Was he going to be disappointed? There hadn't been a changing of the guard in over three hundred years. It always happened on the last day of October. The thought of letting him down was a painful one. Her father had been such a wise and powerful man. His opinion was everything. “... or me.” The hinges on the front door cried out, their stiff joints, unaccustomed to use, would not perform their function without complaint. She chuckled to herself. Even the house was desperate to expose her inadequacies. Stepping into the foyer, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. In spite of decades of abandon, she could still smell her mother's perfume embedded deep in the wood, all musky and sweet. Her mother had been the most beautiful woman in town. Long, luscious brown hair framed a cherubs face, with eyes the color of honey. Many a man had the breath stolen from his chest while gazing into those golden eyes. The pangs of jealousy she spent years suppressing, came flooding back. They clung to her very soul, like the cobwebs that draped the vaulted ceiling above her head. She couldn't believe mother still had that kind of power over her. The power to invoke fear and timidity, envy and spite, all at once. All from the grave. “You shouldn't be here,” the voice whispered. She nodded in silent agreement. The voice was partially right. None of this would have been necessary if her mother hadn't been so- “Thieving? Treacherous?”