After a drive up a two mile dirt road the cabin rose into sight and what a picturesque place it was. Sarah's Aunt Gladys had described the place as a step away from roughing it, its amenities were sufficient to keep the rain and wind off of you nothing more. What Sarah beheld though was more of a retreat to be found in some luxury foothills or as part of an extended day spa that celebrities frequented. There was a well tended though small front yard. Someone had been up to sweep the front porch free of any leaves and to even set out two festive pumpkins, one on either side of the entry way. Sarah got out of the car and scoffed. "Roughing indeed," she said out loud. "Always knew Aunt Gladys was a bit eccentric."
She grabbed a travel bag and headed up to the front door. There was a note affixed to the door knocker. Apparently the closest neighbors were back down the dirt road and then another three miles over: the Olstens tended the property for Gladys while she was away or would tidy up right before visitors. If Glady's niece needed anything all she had to do was dial the number twentytwo on the foyer phone and they would be at her disposal. Inside the place smelt as if someone had been baking apple crisp all day. The wood floors were polished and the mantles and tables were all dust free. The furniture was a colorful display of reds and oranges with hints of blue and white. Fresh linens were laid out in the master bedroom, and the master bath which was a suite unto its self, was stocked with towels, bath salts, and other pampering items.
Sarah was pondering the use of a remote control she found on the sink's counter top when she heard the phone ringing. It was her Aunt Gladys. "Sarah my dear, there you are!" she exclaimed. "I started calling an hour ago."
"I got on the road later than I expected. Aunt Gladys this place is gorgeous!"
"When one retreats into the country, one should retreat in style. I am sorry about the lack of refreshments around the place though there should be some bottled water tucked under the kitchen sink. Did the Olstens come 'round?"
"Yes. The place sparkles. It's all very inspiring."
"I am glad to hear it. And you know that Mrs Olsten or Mr Olsten can be at the place in half an hour if you should need anything."
She wouldn't. Sarah was prepared for the isolation. But she also knew that her aunt had fretted about her being alone in the middle of the woods.
"Auntie, I will be fine," she assured her.
"Well, I didn't tell you before, but you should know that I keep a small hand gun in the bedroom."
"Auntie!" exclaimed Sarah in surprise.
"It's in a lock box. They key is in the side table's drawer. It's just in case, my dear. In my fifteen years of owning the place I've never even so much as loaded the thing, but it has always been a comfort to me all the same."
Sarah made a face. "I wouldn't even know how to use it," she mumbled.
"At least take the walking stick with you if you go out," said her aunt. "It's leaning next to the front door."
Indeed there was a blonde wood pole leaning in the corner. One end was gnarled and resembled a club. One good whack from that could break a wrist or disorient someone or something. Sarah looked out through the windows and saw a sea of trees. She was on nature's door step. More than man, she had wild animals to be concerned about.
"You're right," she said after a pause. "A stick I can handle."
"Call me or you're parents regularly enough," said her aunt.
Making promises she knew she might easily break Sarah said a few reassuring phrases and hung up. She had one back up plan for security.
She moved back into the master bedroom. There was nothing in the room that could give away her exact location. The shutters were fastened obscuring the outdoors. She went up to the bathroom mirror, and rising her left hand said, "Through the mists and through the veil, I call forth my friend Hoggle." Lightly she touched her fingers to the glass. Immediately the surface rippled and her reflection disappeared as the glass fogged over. When it cleared a grumpy looking old man in a poet's shirt stood next to her mirrored image. "Hello Hoggle!" she said brightly.
"Aw, there ya are," he replied with a huff. "Was wondering when you's would call."
"Yes, well, here I am. Take a good look Hoggle," she said glancing around. "This is your room of passage."
"A bathroom?"
"Look we discussed this at length before I left. I need to be alone, and if I gave you a more specific location Didymus would be crawling through the glass to stand guard every night."
Hoggle chuckled. "If I didn't knows better, I'd says that fox fancied ya."
Sarah grimaced and shook her head. That thought was wrong on more levels than she could count.
"I might wants to come through meself, out of boredom," he then said.
"You, bored?"
"Kings on vacation, he is."
This information struck Sarah as odd. Perhaps it merely was coincidental that both of them should be out of town at the same exact moment. Of course it was coincidental, she chided herself. Where had that wandering thought come from? In the past nine years she had only given and received one dry "hello" and a very neutral birthday card when she turned twentyone. While both occasions had been polite, they had rendered her quite helpless when she went to bed. She had suffered from hot flashes and some very inexplicable dreams involving peaches.
She cleared her throat. "Oh. Well." She cleared her throat a second time. "You can't come through leisurely. It's out of the question right now. I have to concentrate on my work."
Hoggle pursed his lips and gave her a shrewd look. After a moment he shrugged. "Al's right, but at the first sign of trouble,"
"I'll call." She touched the glass again and his image faded.
After collecting the rest of her baggage and emptying the cooler contents into the cupboards and refrigerator respectively, Sarah went back into the main room. She needed the perfect environment for her imagination to thrive. Her first thought was to utilize the fire place. There was a coffee table with a few knick knacks and a very comfy arm chair. Clearing the coffee table she centered it in front of the fire place and then maneuvered the arm chair just to the side. Perfect. She could gaze lazily at the flames and find her characters dancing their story in its depths. Of course there wasn't a fire to stare longingly into.
"Alright," she said giving the hearth a challenging glare. "How hard can it be to light a fire?"
Outside she was surprised to find the sun sinking below the horizon. The air had gone from chilly to decidedly cold. By the time she was in and out of the wood shed with basket full of wood her fingers were chilled. Fifteen minutes later she was warming them against a pleasant fire. She smiled, pleased with her accomplishment. With the laptop out on the coffee table and a bottle of water near by, she felt ready to have a long conversation with her keyboard. Fifteen minutes later, she found herself playing solitaire.
Next came a seat with a view of the woods to the side of the house. She could just see the bend in the road. It should have inspired a blind man. Sarah spent a half hour doing nothing more productive than attempting to count tree trunks. She glanced at a clock: five o'clock wasn't too early to begin fixing dinner.
As the stove warmed Sarah poked around a large bookcase wondering what she could find to inspire herself. There was an odd sound system that proved to be hooked up to a satellite radio. Soon the house was swelling with music, moody numbers from the Air Born Toxic Event to emotional ballads by Muse. She danced her way through dinner.
She had to be honest with herself: she needed to just relax and let it happen. The dancing had helped. She no longer felt self-conscientious about being in somebody else's house and using her aunt's things. Tonight was hers, to think about whatever she so desired.
In the master bath she drew a hot bubble bath and discovered that the ambiguous remote controlled the sound system and the lighting. She was about to strip out of her under garments when she noticed the shutters behind the bath tub. They were as long as they were wide. Reaching around the bath she pulled open one of the sides: a large field stretched out behind the cabin. The dried grass glowed surreally by the light of the moon and stars. The stars! The heavens opened up revealing a vast treasure trove of diamonds. From the bath tub one could recline and count the stars. She hesitated for a moment. Being naked before an open window was a bit unnerving, yet again she was in the middle of no where. Using the remote she dimmed the lights, finished undressing, and climbed into the warm water.
She had just begun telling herself a little story about a young girl taking a moon light walk when she saw the large bird swoop to a near by tree. It startled her. The bird swooped again and landed closer to the cabin. It was an owl.
At first she scrambled to collect as much of the bubbles as possible to cover herself. Then the bird hooted and did nothing more. For several horrific seconds Sarah had been convinced that the Goblin King was stalking her in owl form and had witnessed her nakedness. Darn Hoggle for inserting his name in her subconscious. She squinted through the panes of glass: this owl was black and brown, not the gold and white his majesty preferred. "Wouldn't that have been a fine howdy-do?" she asked out loud followed by a heavy sigh. "Practically ten years of nothing only to get an eye full of my lady parts." She reclined in the water again. "Of course it would all be seeing and no touching." Brave in the fact this was not the goblin king she raised a bubble soaked leg. Her skin glistened in the moon light. "To see all this and not touch it; oh that would gall you!" She flexed her toes and let the limb sink beneath the surface again. "Of course," she said her tone turning thoughtful. "it wouldn't be much fun without the touching."
To her recollection the goblin king had only ever touched her hand and the left side of her waist. The contact had been innocent enough, leading her in a waltz, but it had sent darts of pleasure throughout her body. The man was packaged allurement. From the revealing clothes to the long blond locks to his startling eyes, he radiated desire. Sarah sank further into the water, awkward and embarrassed at her lewd thoughts.
The owl hooted.
"Of course it wasn't all about sex," she snapped as if the bird had spoken directly to her. "At least not for me. I can't speak for him. A man who appreciates an opinionated woman is needful at any age." She paused and examined some items near the tub. She selected a pumice stone and set to work on her feet. "I wasn't counting on him having such a fragile ego though. I mean, who cares? Alright I won the game, got my brother back, but does that signify that I never want to see him again? Why should it matter? And what was the deal with that birthday card anyway?" she demanded of her nocturnal visitor.
The owl flapped a wing and resettled on the branch.
Sarah continued softer this time, "You were the first man to admire my strong will and quite honestly there really hasn't been anyone since. You knew how to goad me, then take the heat, and continue to smile through the whole ordeal."
She realized that both of her feet were a bit tingly. In her rant she scrubbed them with the pumice stone to vigorously, the skin now was raw.
"If you know his nibs," she said to the owl. "tell him that Sarah Williams wouldn't mind a few words with him." She popped the plug, grabbed a towel, and got out of the bath. "Right, because all the owls hang out at some club- 'The Mouse'n Claw'- or some such nonsense. It's just a bird."