Writing Gallery

in the dark, any house would seem spooky, especially the tiny shingled house with no lights down by the invisible lake. she peers into the black beyond, knowing somewhere there is a body of water. inside, they find it clean and well lighted, decorated with odd bright decor. she notices the old telephone on the wall, the bells painted over, purely decorative now. the stairs are narrow and steep.  the kids do not want to sleep alone in the “creepy” basement so they all end up crowding into the basement. at midnight she wakes up, comes upstairs to get a drink of water. that’s when the antique telephone jangles. she looks around, concerned, worried someone else will wake up. she answers “someone’s fallen,” she thought she hears, or “someone’s falling” – then silence. she looks down the stairs but they are empty. the next day dawns gray and rainy. “I’m sorry it’s so rainy,” says her husband. “on your birthday too.” “that’s 44,” she says.  they visit several local distilleries. in the rain, the stubble fields, bare bricks, industrial tubing, trees reaching dark empty branches, seem less romantic than she hoped  when she planned her birthday trip. still she tries to engage, has a drink, plays with the kids while her husband sips flights. when they return she hesitates before they go in and he notices. “are you okay?” “yes. fine.” “maybe you need a mint julep,” he suggests. they play hide and seek. the dark closet feels damp to her. that night she does not get a drink of water but she thinks she hears the phone ring. the next day – more distilleries – she can’t wait to leave. she takes them out for pizza, ice cream, but at last they have to go back to the lonely little shingled house. she has wine at dinner and a nightcap. her husband teases she is turning into a lush. “or my mom,” she jokes back, but it isn’t funny. what was that bourbon her mom liked? she can remember the broken bottle. she sits up in bed that night trying to remember. did it begin with old? she thinks she hears the phone ring. she dashes up the steps. she sees a darkness at the top, stops, takes a wrong step backwards. she hears her mother’s voice…her teenage voice 30 years ago… her husband’s… “send help, someone’s fallen.”