The Open Door

Welcome to The Spot Writers.

Catherine A. MacKenzie’s novels, WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama, and MISTER WOLFE, the darkly dark sequel/stand-alone novel (18+), are available on Amazon.

Prompt for July/August: "The door you locked is wide open."

Cathy continues with Melvin and his tales...

 

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The Open Door

by Cathy MacKenzie

 

“Melvin, did you leave the door open last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just as I said. Did you leave the door open? It was wide open this morning.”

“No, of course not. I locked it when I came in from the lake.”

Marie glared at me. One of her if-looks-could-kill expressions.

“Well, it was open,” she said. “Who left it open, then?”

“Check with William. Probably him.”

“I did. No, it wasn't him. I locked it before I went to bed. I know I did.”

“Well, I locked it, too. So that’s a double-whammy.”

“Melvin, you never lock the doors, so don’t give me that crap.”

I'm thinking, okay, if Marie said she locked it, she must've. She's always paranoid about someone breaking in. And who knows; maybe I didn’t lock it. “You sure you locked it?” I still had to ask.

“Melvin, yes, I'm sure. It was locked when we went to bed. So someone was here.”

I looked around the room where we were standing. The kitchen. Looked the same to me. “Anything taken?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

“At least it’s summer. We didn't wake up to a house full of snow.” I laughed.

“Yeah, funny, Melvin.” She grunted and huffed off, leaving me scratching my head—in a figurative sense. I don't scratch my head when I'm thinking.

I ambled down the hall. Checked the front door. Closed now, of course, but unlocked. Didn't look as if someone had tampered with it.

I went into the den and plopped into my chair. My first thought when Marie mentioned the open door was that one of the girls—or both of them—had returned. Didn't want to go in that direction, for that'd mean I believed in ghosts and dead risen from six feet under. Don't believe in either one. Besides, don’t ghosts slither through walls? And the girls, if still in the lake, are likely buried more than six feet under. Oh man, I’d sure love them back. Get Marie off my case. Then again, I’d be back to a household with three females, and that was hard to take.

Females! That brought to mind Kailani, one female I’d be happy to live with. Had she come up to the house from the lake, to see where we lived? How we lived?

Kailani can ghost me anytime! My dead girls, not so much.

I scratched my head. Maybe there’d be a sign of Kailani down by the water. Just a wee sign of her would be great.

I slipped into my sandals and headed to the lake.

I scanned the area as I’d scanned the kitchen. Nothing out of order. Kayak and paddle where I’d left them the previous day. Two chairs on the small wooden deck. The dock still jutting across the water.

“Kailani, you around?” Silly, I know, but perhaps she was waiting for my call.

The only sounds were the slight lapping of water against the sandy shore.

I stood still. Silent—until I gave up. “Kailani, please talk to me. I need to know: did you come into our house last night? The door was wide open.”

Nothing.

I walked closer to the shoreline. Examined the water sudsing to the sand. She could be there. Waiting. Ready to emerge...

“Christ, Kailani. Okay, you win. I give up.” I picked up a stone and tossed it into the water. I’d never been able to master skipping stones across the surface. Felt like a failure sometimes, though I’d never admit that to anyone.

“Hey, Mad Mel. You hit me.”

And there she was: surfacing like a disentangled dolphin. Then, levitating above the water, kinda resembling Christ’s posturing, what with her white flowing gown and outstretched arms. White feathers appeared to be loosely woven into her blonde hair.

“I’m sorry, Kai. I sure didn’t mean to hit you.”

“Apology accepted.”

Kailani was way more forgiving than Marie’d ever be.

“Won’t happen again. So, where have you been?”

“Around. You’re not the only man on the land, you know.”

What the heck! Riled up or what! Whatever happened to my sweet hon-bun. Gotta be calm, though. Probably having a bad day; we all experience those.

“Yeah, I know that,” I said. “Not a problem. I’m just happy to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

She didn’t say anything.

“You’re looking great, by the way.”

She floated around a bit. Flailed and flapped her arms.

“Hey, Kailani. Just curious. I know you’re a mermaid and not an angel or a fairy, but you kinda look like one at times. So, just wondering... Have you ever seen my girls in your travels? Sophie and Penny.”

“Sophie? Penny?”

“Yeah, my daughters. They drowned in the lake last year. Never found their bodies. William’s was washed up to shore the next day, and I brought him back to life. Penny’s six; Sophie’s ten. Well, they’d be seven and eleven now if alive.” Hmm, I thought, 7-Eleven. What’s the chances of that?

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She seemed genuinely sorry, not some fake-ass pretend person.

“Yeah, me, too. They’re under the water somewhere, right? Unless they’ve washed to shore by now, but they’d be dead if they did. Been too long. Over a year.”

We gazed into each other’s eyes, with genuine sympathy coming my way.

“So, I was just wondering if you’d seen two bodies beneath the surface. You live there. Surely you’d have seen them.”

“I haven’t. But I’ll keep my eyes open for them. We have lots of underground hiding places. They could be down there, living in one of the underground homes.”

“Still alive you mean? Alive, as in human-alive? Breathing?”

“Of course.”

My heart beat erratically. What! “Come-back-to-earth breathing?”

“What’s with all the questions?” she asked.

“Just want to know if my girls might return someday. Dead or alive.”

“One can never know with certainty what the great big sea will do.” She spread her arms as if she could gather up the entire lake.

“Yeah, okay,” I said.

“Mysteries sometimes reveal themselves. I must depart.”

I reached out. “No, don’t go.”

But it was too late. She was gone. Disappeared faster than a puff of smoke.

I sighed and shaded my eyes from the sun. I turned to return to the house, wondering if I’d imagined the entire scenario. I knew for certain we’d taken the kayak ride through the air and I’d seen her on one other occasion at least, but perhaps my mind was messing with me this time.

I turned around. The lake was calm. Not a ripple. Everything as it had been when I first stepped off the path.

I groaned. Obviously, my mind playing tricks on me.

But then—drifting on top of the water: a small white feather. And then another: gliding in the air, heading toward me...

 

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The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/