Sleepwalker

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The House of Stone

“Why are we traveling so far out of the city again?” Dill moaned, scratching his head. He stumbled over a rock since his eyes were nearly closed in exhaustion.

“Because, Dill, if my mother left anything behind, there could be a major clue to finding her,” I said, though it was more my own curiosity than anything else. “Is it wrong to want to see what she did? Besides, we’ve only been walking for half of an hour.”

Dill sighed, “No, I suppose not. Just don’t be surprised if you don’t find anything, Jenny.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “How did you get the innkeeper to agree to missing your evening chores?” He squinted at the hastily drawn map in my hands. “Are you alright?” His eyes wandered to my trembling fingers. “You seem a tad nervous.”

I scanned the woodsy area around me. “There should be a house made of grey stone around here somewhere. Could you wake up a tad more and help me look?”

“Would it be this one?” He pointed in front of him, a low house hidden amongst the shadows and trees. Slinking toward it, he peered in a window suspiciously.

“I suppose so. It reminds me of your house. Perhaps, I’m your bastard sister.”

Though I meant it as a joke, Dill turned a bit green at the thought. “My mother did not have relations with another man,” he snapped defensively. “Sometimes you just…”

“My apologies. I meant nothing from it.” With a squeal, the door opened. I entered the house, cobwebs entangling me. “I don’t think anyone has been in here since my mother was.” I studied the simple furnishings, a chair and a stone table.

Dill’s eyes widened. “Jenny, is that blood on the table?” We both stood over it, eyebrows raised. “I’m near certain that it is.” He ran his fingers over the dusty film coating the crimson splotch. “I see that she was a tidy person.”

“That’s horrid. You don’t think she gained her magic sacrificially, do you?” I wondered, near revolted. My eyes were pasted to the spot on the table.

“Are you sure you want to meet her now?” Dill smirked. It disappeared when he turned to a pile of blankets in the corner. “That must’ve been her bed. How much did you say she paid for this house? It’s a bit small to be remotely expensive.”

“She paid an obscene amount, especially for the state that it’s in.” I remarked, noticing the blankets in the corner as well. Another splash of crimson dotted the blankets. “You don’t think that I was born over there, do you?” I recoiled.

Dill shrugged, “I do not believe you were born on the table, so yes, I would say so. I bet she was alone too.” At my quizzical look, he explained, “From this isolated house, she was probably ashamed to be pregnant. I doubt she left during her pregnancy.”

Though I assumed as much, the reality of it stung. It prickled at my chest, leaving a twisted hollow feeling in my gut. “I suppose you’re right. Then what do you propose the blood on the table is, oh wise one?” I hoped the sarcasm masked my wounded tone.

“It could be anything, really. As you pointed out earlier, she might have been some strange Wiccan who enjoyed sacrificing animals or more likely she prepared supper here.” He stated bluntly. With a roll of his eyes, he peered around a bit more.

I peeked around more, searching for small details that I missed. The walls were a pale grey tinted with the slightest bit of green. The only furnishings were the table, presumably carved of the same rock of the house, and the chair, small and wooden.

An eerie feeling settled into my bones, the feeling of being watched. “Dill, do you get the creeps from this place?” When someone lunged at my shoulders, I screamed.