It was a cool evening but not so much as to need a sweater. The crickets began to chirp and everything was in light as she walked ahead of the other into the back yard, she could see her way because of the full moon. She noticed the door ajar as they approached the shed and she entered through it. The roughly stained building was lit with an old glow of the antique light bulb that dangled from the roof rafters. The silver cloth of the movie screen glistened in the moonlight and she moved in front of the camera to sit in the wooden folding chair that had been stategically placed in front of the desk to face the screen. The light switched off just as the reel began to whir.
She did not really watch the documentary because it was not something she was used to or felt comfortable with. This was all very strange and she wanted to stay alert. She had never been put in a situation like this and had no idea what to expect next. When the movie reel flapped with it's celluloid tapestry flicking against the metal at every revolution she was startled. Then they returned to the house. The excursion to the shed had been a prelude of sorts or so she had surmised years later.
The parlor was neat and tidy and she sat there on the overstuffed chair alone her ten year old hands clasped in her lap, paralyzed with fear and unable to move. She focused on the lace doily that lay across the round table that held the lamp. A black and white photograph of her great grandmother, who had died when she was two, straddled the tattered pocket prayer book and wire rimmed glasses sat atop that in a perfect vignette. She stared at her great grandmother's hands crossed one on top of the other, and glanced at her stoic face from time to time waiting for the night to pass, as it must have.
Then the blue light of dawn cast just enough of a shadow on the figure that stood over her. She dared not move. Fear engulfed her and she could not decipher why.
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