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Cytat
Do celu tam się wysiada. Lec Stanisław Jerzy (pierw. de Tusch-Letz, 1909-1966)
A bogowie grają w kości i nie pytają wcale czy chcesz przyłączyć się do gry (. . . ) Bogowie kpią sobie z twojego poukładanego życia (. . . ) nie przejmują się zbytnio ani naszymi planami na przyszłość ani oczekiwaniami. Gdzieś we wszechświecie rzucają kości i przypadkiem wypada twoja kolej. I odtąd zwyciężyć lub przegrać - to tylko kwestia szczęścia. Borys Pasternak
Idąc po kurzych jajach nie podskakuj. Przysłowie szkockie
I Herkules nie poradzi przeciwko wielu.
Dialog półinteligentów równa się monologowi ćwierćinteligenta. Stanisław Jerzy Lec (pierw. de Tusch - Letz, 1909-1966)
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.Anna flippedon a light and I gasped.From floor toceiling the entire space was lined withbooks.I d never imagined such a place.Were there a heaven, I was certain itwould look like this. We can come back in the morning, Anna said. Wait. I noticed that the books wereorganized by author.Hugo was at eye level.I blew out my candle and pulled outa book.Les Misérables, Volume III. Anna.How. I checked Tennyson.Sure enough, a book was missing.Likewise with Shakespeare and Poe. My books came from here.How didmy mother get them? Maybe she took them.She workedhere. I opened the volume of Hugo andsomething slipped out.Anna leaned downto pick it up.She blew out her candle andunfolded the piece of paper. It s another one of Uncle Frank sportraits, she said. The woman isgorgeous.I have no idea who she is,though. The woman who stared back at me from the small piece of folded canvasmade me shiver.It was as if she woresuffering on the surface of her dark eyes.Draped over her shoulders was a spottedfur wrap and in the bottom-right cornerwere the now-familiar letters FMR.I putthe folded portrait in my back pocket andreturned the Hugo volume to the shelf. Ready? Anna asked, holding out bothof our candles.I pulled out the lighter andlit them. Ready. The next room was the one in whichwe had discovered MacFarley withDeirdre, followed by several more smallchambers similarly appointed.Thesecond-to-last door was a bit different.Itdidn t have the second latch and there were oil stains down the back of the dooras if it had been lubricated frequently.Whoever used it had wanted a silententrance perhaps to sneak up onsomeone sleeping or unaware.I pulled down on the lever and the doorswung open.The room looked just like theothers before it with one exception.It hadno windows.None at all. The door from this room into thehouse has a double dead bolt, I said. The others had a thumb lock doorknob. What s the difference? Anna asked,raising her candle to look at a painting. You can lock someone in from theoutside. She disappeared into the bathroom andflipped on the light. Hey.Come look at this. She blew out her candle.In the corner of the small bathroomwhere a shower should be, there was anempty space with a faucet sticking out ofthe wall.Protruding through the floorwere four bolts that should have held abathtub. Well, this explains where my mothergot that bathtub, I said. And we know she didn t steal it.Itwould take several men and a wagon ofsome kind to get it down there. I stepped back into the room andexamined the art on the walls.All werepaintings of the sea with Uncle Frank sinitials on them. Someone in the villagehas to know how or when it happenedbecause one or more of them had to have helped move the tub. Anna ignited my candle with hers andwe stepped back into the tunnel. Oneroom left, she said. Kitchen, maybe? I slid the lock and pushed the panelaside. Not the kitchen. Oh, God, Anna said from behind myshoulder.The long, narrow room appeared to bemade completely of black stone and had atall cathedral ceiling stretching to sharppoints at the apex.Wooden support beamsran the length of the ceiling with intricatecarved spires pointing down like fangs.In the open windows, purple silkencurtains writhed in a macabre dance to theocean wind, creating an effect soterrifying all the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I could use a kiss about now, Annasaid, stepping into the room. But I doubtit would help. Nothing could help.The room we hadentered was a cross between a dungeonand a sorceress s lair.Only one personcould inhabit such a place.Brigid Ronan. What do you think she does with allthis stuff? Anna tuf. I couldn t begin to imagine. I closedthe door to the passageway behind us. Iknow she s considered to be a healer inthe village.Maybe the jars and driedvegetation are related to that. She s a witch doctor.That certainlyfits. Anna picked up a jar that appeared to contain a dead animal suspended inliquid and held her candle up to examineit.An enormous painting hung over thebed.Barely illuminated by the distantcandle flame, the man staring out at uswith dark eyes seemed alive.I held mycandle closer.He had dark wavy hair anda haunted expression of utter desolation.Chills coursed through me as I stared atwhat appeared to be a mature reflection ofmy own face
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