Do you like stories with mystery and suspense? Strange and “wyrd” ones? Well, if you do, keeping reading and enjoy Eggcentricsagas. If you are just joining Eggcentricsagas, you might want to start from the beginning: A La Mano: Part 1-The Treasure
The next day, I left work a little early to accomplish my task and walked briskly to my destination. The tinkle of the doorbell as I opened the door caused the jeweler to look up. He was assisting a middle-aged man. I entered the cramped place and pretended to view the merchandise. From their hushed conversation, I surmised that the man was shopping for his mistress. When he left, I approached the owner. “Can I help you?” he inquired solicitously, his bald head shining like the jewels in his display cases.
I presented him with the gold leaf. “I was wondering about this piece.”
He looked at it, turned it over, and then he used his jeweler’s loupe to inspect it carefully. Eventually, he looked up with the loupe still held to his eye as if to examine me. “Where did you get this?” he asked. Under a droopy, old eyelid, his steely blue eye searched my gaze.
I returned his suspicion with my carefully rehearsed reply. “My aunt passed away and I inherited it from her.”
He laid down the loupe, inspected my attire and replied dubiously, “Your aunt, eh?”
“So can you tell me about it? Is it real gold or just costume jewelry?”
“Yes. It is real gold with real pearls. This appears to be a very old piece.”
“How old?”
“I am uncertain.”
“What about the mark on the back? What is it?”
“A fleur-de-lis. Can I keep it for a while to do some research?” His hand closed over my prize.
Resisting the thought of it being out of my possession, I hesitated. “How long?”
“A few days,” he answered, “a week at the most.” Sensing my uncertainty, he placed the gold leaf on the glass in front of him.
I picked it up and replied, “Let me think about it.”
Later that night, I would rue my decision to think about it.
I am in an old alleyway running through boxes and crates. Suddenly there is a Chinese man in the narrow passage and hands me a piece of jade. The street is now a river and I am on a boat floating down it. I see there are spirits in the water clawing at my boat. Then I am in an old bookstore between the bookshelves. There is a book of magic. Embossed on the spine is a crown and the name Castile. I hear knocking. They want to come in. I don’t know who is at the door. A woman’s voice whispers; araña, araña. Afraid, I can feel my heartbeat. Then louder, incessant strikes. Rap, rap, rap…
I realize that I am lying in bed. Is it Mrs. Tilsby at my door?
My heart pounding, I awoke from my nightmare. My eyes closed, I listened for knocking. Strangely, it was dead quiet. I got out of bed and went to the door. Opening it a crack to see who was out there, the hallway was empty and dark. I returned to bed and a fitful sleep.
“You look terrible,” Mrs. Tilsby told me at breakfast.
Refraining from delivering a sarcastic remark that my look was due in part to anticipating her cooking, I answered instead, “Bad night’s sleep.”
Before I could decline, she ladled another helping of mush into my bowl. “If you ask me,” she said, “it’s because you don’t eat enough. You’re too thin.” With this declaration, Mrs. Tilsby waddled around the table and heaped mush into her bowl. Wanting to goad me to a statement of denial, she sat down and stared at me. With his protuberant eyes fixed menacingly on me as well, Mr. Fu sat at her feet waiting for my reply. Instead, I reluctantly spooned the porridge into my mouth.
Stepping out of Mrs. Tilsby’s foyer into the cool, crisp morning and inhaling the fresh air, I mulled over the previous night’s experience. The fear of the nightmare dissipated with the bright sunshine as I walked to work. I had decided that after work on Friday, I would visit the library to research Castile and Ysabel.
Next: Part 4-The Wanderer
