Chapter 15





Rhiannon met Nancy on the path to the old house. "Nancy, where are you going?" "I'm going to New York. I want you to come with me. Please." "To find your mother?" Nancy hesitated a second, "Yes, to find my mother." "Well I don't see any reason why I can't go with you. I've just finished my lessons with Barnabas. I was anxious to see Quentin though, but I suppose a few days adjusting to my new way of speaking won't hurt. I mean I don't want to make a goof or anything when I do go to him, uh to talk to him. Let me tell my folks and pack a bag. Come on in, I'm sure my mom'll give us a ride down to the station."





15 minutes later the two girls boarded a train bound for New York. Rhiannon, sitting closest to the window, took out her diary and began to write.



Dear Diary,

I've finished my lessons with Barnabas and I feel as though a whole new world has opened up for me. I can now see what others saw in my outward appearance. I will do my best to change and I feel that this trip will be a change for the better. I'm on my way to New York with Nancy. A whole new city. However unlike Collinsport, New York is closer to the home I left behind. It's very exciting, Nancy is going to find her mother, who she hasn't seen since she was very little. It must be hard growing up without a mother. Not being able to see her, to hug her, to thank her for a great dinner. To wonder if you have her mannerisms, her voice. To try on her make up and clothes, to have her call to you from another room. Although I don't look my mother, I got to experience these things with her. I have a mother. You know, I think this would make a very good story, or a tv series. A young woman on a train looking for her mother, to find out about her past. You know maybe I'll write a story like that. What would I call the girl though? Sheila March maybe, that's a good name. She could be an orphan who was born in March. Yes I think I can make a good story out of this trip.







Meanwhile Nancy sat with a notepad and pencil in her hand, also inspired. But not to write about a girl looking for her mother, no, but a girl also starting on a journey. A journey long, long ago.



The House on Midnight Lane

As I travel in this carriage

with my bag upon my legs

I look out the window

for the house on Midnight Lane.

That's where I am to live, you see

with Mr. Robert Green

the man I am to marry

whom I've never even seen.




I've heard stories of him though,

and some are very strange

some say he is not human,

some say he is deranged.




Some say he is quite handsome,

others, say ugly as sin

some say he is a gentle soul,

some say he's killed his kin.




I'm not at all practical

I'm only 23

I've been often reprimanded

for my daydreams get the better of me.

If only it were not overcast,

I wouldn't think bad thoughts

but adding to my worries,

I fear we may be lost.




Or can it be that house ahead

is the one I seek?

I wish that I could turn back now

I'm too afraid to speak.




The house is large and old and made of stone,

it looks positively dreary

and overhead the darkened clouds

make it look quite eerie.




As we make way up the drive

my heart is filled with fear

what if he despises me

and does not want me here?




What is the house is haunted?

What if it's master's mad?

What if he keeps me locked up tight

and treats me very bad?




What if his mouth is full of fangs

and he dines on human bones?

If only I could turn the carriage around

and head straight back for home.




We're getting closer now

there's someone by the door

I am so fear stricken

that my feet stick to the floor.




I can see his face now

a butler I presume,

his face seems bright and cheery

it's a contrast to the gloom.




He smiles as the coach draws up

and introduces himself to me

"My name is Robert Green, my dear

I am your fiancee."




Well he doesn't look at all scary

I suddenly feel quite foolish

to think this kind looking, handsome man

could be something so ghoulish.

He takes me to the parlour

and holds me in a comforting embrace

I feel safe and quite secure

until I see his face.




His eyes glitter cold as steel

and then I see his teeth

two sharp incisors, glittering white

I open my mouth to scream.




But he covers my mouth with his

his kiss is hard and cold




I'm petrified with fear right now

I wish I could go home.




As his lips move toward my neck

I hear someone call my name

I look to find myself in bed

it was all just a dream.




My mother comes in, bright and cheery

as she calls my name

"Today's the day you go home

to the house on Midnight Lane."




"I am not going Mother," I say

"I have changed my mind.

You may tell Mr. Green

I will not be his bride."

She looks at me strangely for a moment

then laughs and shakes her head

as she picks up a book

that has fallen off the bed.




As she leaves I get the sense

that I am not alone

I turn to see Mr. Green beside me in bed

with two small holes in his throat.




Looking over her work, she laughed to herself. A poem about Vampires, as if there ever were any such things. There was a rumour about one in Collinsport before she was born, but Collinsport was an old superstitious town. Yes maybe leaving Collinsport and inspired her to write. It was pretty good, maybe she'd show it to Barnabas when she got back. She couldn't show it to Quentin, he seemed to have no taste for literature, although he seemed like several fictitious villains in real life. Yes Quentin was the sort who would kidnap the damsel in distress or the embodiment of some unseen terror. Nancy stopped her musings to stare past Rhiannon and see the sun setting through the window. They would be in New York soon. Nancy would finally meet her mother. Whether her mother wanted her or not, she would see the face that was only a dim memory in the back of her mind. She would learn about the father she never knew.



Nancy and Rhiannon looked at one another. As the sun set it seemed to signify a chapter coming to a close. Soon they would reach their destination, but their journey was just beginning.











A/N the poem 'The House on Midnight Lane' was written by me.

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