CHAPTER THREE

MYSTERIES

I was walking my dog, Todo – classic name, right? – down the street, not really paying attention. It wasn't until it got dark that I noticed we were almost to the top of the hill. I thought of all the rumors about that house.

They say there's a beast living in the house that eats all those who go inside.

They say that the same family from France comes to work because their blood doesn't appeal to the beast.

They say it's a hideous creature with claws and fangs and a thirst for human flesh.

Did I really believe in all that crap?

Nope.

I kept walking, humming a song to myself. I heard a shriek too my side and looked over, but it seemed like it was just the wind or something. But in my distraction the leash was yanked loose from my hand as Todo rushed off after an animal or something. I rushed after him, "Todo! Stop, boy!"

For such little legs, he could run really fast. I almost couldn't keep up. "Stop Todo!"

He kept running, barking. We were right in front of the Mansion now. "Todo!" He ran around the side of the house. I followed him, panting slightly, around to the back of the house. There was a gap in the ground that led down to a basement or cellar or something. Todo ran down into the hole and I followed him. Todo was barking at a squirrel in the corner when I ran and grabbed him. "Todo, you know better than to run off like that!"

Suddenly I heard shouting, an old woman. She appeared and ran down from the house into the basement shouting, "Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici? Vous avez a quitter! Aujourd'hui!"

My eyes widened at her rapid language, "What? I can't understand you."

She waved her hands at me, "Pas le temps aujourd'hui. Nous devons vous sortir d'ici avant qu'il ne vienne!" She grabbed my hand and tugged me towards the stairs.

She led me into a hallway and tugged me faster, "Vite, avant qu'il vienne!"

"What's going on, Miss?" I asked loudly.

She brought me to a large front room with a grand staircase leading down to the large majestic black oak double doors. She carefully opened one of the doors and tried to push me out, "S'il vous plait aller! Pour votre propre bien!"

"Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" I heard a large shout echo off the walls after us. Suddenly a large figure, hidden under a heavy velvet robe. It slid down the grand staircase and shouted at me, "Arretez!"

I squeaked fearfully and threw myself out of the house with Todo in my arms. I raced down the stone path to the large creaky gates, hearing behind me, "Arretez!" But I just kept running as fast as I could.

"Arretez!"

That night, I didn't tell either of my sisters. I didn't tell Myrtle. I didn't call to tell my dad. I was quiet. No one noticed how shaken I was. Todo yipped at me occasionally but he was a dog – he didn't really know what happened. My sisters never noticed me, they didn't now. They were too busy having a make-out orgy in the living room.

I tried reading. But I couldn't focus. My mind kept going to that house. To the french woman. And the robed figure who yelled at me. I realized I didn't understand a word that they were speaking. I got up and out of bed and walked over to my desk, turning on my computer. I slowly typed in, artes.

A little thing popped up that said 'Did you mean Arretez?'

I clicked on the link.

Arretez resided in one box. In the other box beside it, stop.

Stop? Why did he want me to stop? I thought he was yelling at me to leave.

I ran a shaky hand through my hair and sighed to myself. It didn't matter. I was never going back. Never.

"Belle..."

I lazily and dreamily looked over to him.

"Yes?"

He said nothing. Just lightly and gently and... lovingly squeezed my hand in his.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I jolted awake at the sound of my alarm clock. Aunt Silvia was coming today. I slowly dragged myself out of bed and got ready for the day. I had to clean the house for Aunt Cilia. And start making lunch or something. Maybe I'd bake cookies so the house smelled like cookies.

I was in the middle of trying to save the burned cookies – I shouldn't have let Hannah-and-Cathy watch them while I went to get groceries – when the door bell rang. Hannah-and-Cathy yelled, "I got it!" and ran for the door, thinking it was one of their toyboys.

I calmly followed them and saw Aunt Silvia in the door way, much to the trouble-twins chagrin. She didn't look much different. Same old woman with fragile gray hair she dyed blonde. Same 1920s style hat that made her feel fashionable because she once saw me wearing one like it. Same plum colored skirt and matching jacket. But I had to give credit where it was due. Sometimes her outfit was mustard.

"Hello dearies, I'm here," She said cheerfully. Hannah-and-Cathy collectively groaned and walked away, trudging up the stairs to their rooms. I smiled politely, "Hi, Aunt Silvia."

She tutted, "Hello Belle. Looking as beautiful as ever. You remind me so much of your mother."

I fought to keep my smile up, "Thanks. I was just... burning cookies. But I do have one good batch. Would you like some?"

She smiled, "What a good dearie. Of course, I would. May I help with the bad batch, dearie?"

I shook my head and led her to the kitchen, "That's okay, I've got another batch ready to go in. Just gotta clean."

"Got to, dearie."

I hid my face when I rolled my eyes. Yup. Same Aunt Silvia.

I peered down at the pages of a book through my glasses before I slid it over the cool metal to check it out. I handed it to the little girl, "Here you go. See you back in three weeks, right?"

She nodded, her curls bouncing slightly, "Yes, Belle." She turned and walked over to meet up with her mommy at the library exit. I sighed.

"Belle."

I looked over to see Myrtle, the head librarian. "Yes?"

"There's not a lot of people here today. It's Saturday. Why don't you go out and have fun instead of being cooped up here with some dusty old books?" She smiled like a grandmother.

I leaned against the counter, "That's okay. There's not much to do in this small town. And I like books."

"I know you do, Belle, but you're a teenage girl. I'm sure there's plenty of young lads looking for someone to hang their arm." By her smile I could tell she was joking.

But it still made me blush, "I don't think so. I'm not very... into high school society." I looked through the spines of the books on the portable shelf, waiting to be put back home. I grabbed one, Pride and Prejudice. I showed Myrtle the cover, "Think of me as Elizabeth. Or even Jane. Seen as weird and unconventional in a society that expects woman to be dependent of men. I'm an innovator," I joked.

Myrtle smiled fondly, "Sure you are. But it does not hurt to be young once in a while. You're much too grown up for your looks."

I reached up to replace books into their proper place, "I guess some of us have to grow up sooner than anyone planned. It's no one's fault."

"I know that... But you don't have to be so grown up all the time. Taking care of everyone. Your sisters. Your father. Heck, everyone in this town can tell a story or two of how you helped them. Someone has to be trusted to take care of you."

I let her words sink in. I was just about to say something when I caught sight of a person browsing in the multi-language section. I glanced over and saw... the French woman. The woman who helped me out of the manor the other day.

"I'll think about it. Hey, I gotta put some of these books away, then I'll go find something to do, yeah?"

Myrtle – never suspicious – nodded, "You better do that, Belle. Or you'll have to hear from me."

I smiled back and pushed the cart down, trying to peer down the aisles for the French woman. Eventually I found myself in the French and Spanish Literature section. And I saw her peering up at a book, too high for her reach.

I left the cart behind and went to her, "Excuse me..."

She jumped, startled, and when she saw that it was me her eyes widened considerably and her head shook back and forth, like she was begging for mercy, "Aucune. Vous ne pouvez pas etre ici."

I tried to look as non-threatening as I could, "I'm sorry to bother you..."

"Vous devez oublier," she told me earnestly, begging, "Oubliez ce que vous avez vu."

"I'm sorry I don't know french," I told her apologetically, "But I have to know what happened the other day. Who that... person was. Can you speak English?"

She shook her head firmly, practically shivering in... fear? "No. Juste oublier." She bustled away from me, dropping a book. I tried to call out to her, but it was a library. By the time I got to the front desk, she was gone.

I walked back to the aisle she was browsing in and picked up her book, an idea forming in my head.

There was sniffling. I wasn't in this dream. I was merely an observer. The third party audience. I saw a vision of a grand room with a grand bed fit for royalty. It was high and green and dark wood. I heard coughing – painful coughing and hacking. I heard the sniffled grow louder. But these sounds didn't seem the same. They seemed separate. Like two different things were making two different sounds at the same time.

I saw a man, pail, elderly, sickly in the bed. Coughing – hacking painfully. His body arched off the bed as he stuffed his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise. There was a little boy at his side. Sniffling. He had his face dug into his father's other arm and the blankets of the grand bed.

"Do not weep my son..."

I jolted awake, again, as there were knocks at my door. "Yoo hoo. Dearie. Belle? Are you awake?"

I silently groaned to myself as I dragged my lead body out of bed and went to open my bedroom door, "Yeah, sorry, Auntie. Overslept."

She smiled and tutted, "No worries, dearie. I was just coming to tell you that I will be making dinner tonight. So you, my dear, will relax."

Why was everyone telling me to relax? To be young? It was annoying me lately.

But I smiled sheepishly and nodded anyway, "Great. Well... I'm gonna get ready... read or something."

Se smiled, "Very well. I'll see you later today."

I didn't stay in my room all day. I walked around, reading. Surfed the web on my computer. I looked up common phrases in French.

Eventually... I got bored. So I went to the library. When I got there, it was practically crawling with people. Kids from my high school, trying to check out books for projects due next week that they put off. Single woman in their thirties, hiding the spines of their books so no one would know it was a romantic erotic novel. My history teacher, getting a book on the time period he's supposed to be teaching us.

You could learn a lot of things from books.

Myrtle couldn't be happier to see me. She said I rescued her. After the initial rush of check outs, things calmed down to the normal dead library look this place had usually. I peered around, looking for the French woman. Maybe she'd come back for her book.

Myrtle asked, "Who are you looking for, hun? A fella?"

I blushed and shook my head, "No, no fella. There was this woman here... yesterday. I noticed she seemed... confused on my way out so I offered to help. She didn't speak English. She left. I was just wondering if she might of come back."

"Ah, Emile. I know her," Myrtle said, making my ears quirk to attention.

"You do?" I tried to ask without seeming too eager or suspicious, "Well, it is a small town. But I've never really seen her before. Who is she?"

Myrtle didn't seem to catch on, "Well she's French for starters. Keeps to herself. Doesn't surprise me that you haven't met her – not much of us here have."

"Well... does she live close to the library?" I asked subtly. I already knew where she lived.

Myrtle seemed a little hesitant to tell me, probably knowing all the rumors going around about the big Haunted House at the top of the hill. "Now keep a clear head.." She said in her Irish lilt, "She works out at the old manor at the top of the hill. She's worked there for as long as I could remember. I believed she was sent from France years ago."

"Who does she work for? Or does she just keep the house up?"

She gave me a look, "Have you heard all the stories...?"

I shrugged, "Just that a French stranger bought the house over a hundred years ago. And he and all his servants were never heard from again."

Myrtle nodded, "Well that part is true. But those rotten teenagers – not at all like yourself, my dear – spread stories about the people who just want to be left to themselves. They say horrid things."

"Like what? If you don't mind..." I asked quietly, abandoning my work.

"Horrid and untrue things like..." She threw her hands up, "There's a beast up there that gobbles up all the people who dare go inside..."

I gave her a sarcastic look, "Isn't that a little far fetched?"

Myrtle nodded, grateful for me not to laugh or believe the stories, "Exactly, my dear. It's just old spooky tales the youngins like to spread and scare each other with. Not one ounce of truth."

But I wondered if that was really the case...

REVIEW!

Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici? Vous avez a quitter! Aujourd'hui! What are you doing here? You have to leave! Today!

Pas le temps aujourd'hui. Nous devons vous sortir d'ici avant qu'il ne vienne! No time now! We need to get out of here before he comes!

Vite, avant qu'il vienne! Quick, before he comes.

S'il vous plait aller! Pour votre propre bien! Please go! For your own good!

Qu'est-ce qui se passe? What's going on?

Aucune. Vous ne pouvez pas etre ici. No. You can not be here.

Vous devez oublier You must forget.

Oubliez ce que vous avez vu. Forget what you saw.

No. Juste oublier. No. Just forget.

RegalGirl94