6 February 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2639 (Part 4) | Prompt: a nice illusion

Part 3:

And that someone was more accessible than Nathan realized. In fact, the neighbor one farm over adjacent to his property line, facing west. The neighbor he'd passed hundreds of times on his way to town. The neighbor he'd labeled early on in his marriage as unhealthy for his and Matilda's relationship. The neighbor he viewed as "not the sharpest tool in the shed" and someone to avoid at all costs.

And there was her name scribbled in red on the inside flap of the manuscript.

Shocked but not surprised, Nathan shook his head as he flipped through each page. Not once, but numerous times her name appeared beside various dates. No mention of any secret society, yet.

Looking back, he'd exclaim to Matilda on many occasions that if any situation of earth-shattering magnitude were to occur, Ophelia would be right dab in the center issuing orders as if the catastrophe originated with her.

How could he have known that his scathing criticism was on point? Ophelia Mockinghew held the answer to Matilda's weird ramblings all those years. And how would he now approach her in a manner unlike his treatment of her these past twenty years?

It was a delicate balance he'd need to gird up and undertake realizing his personality wasn't wired for the confrontation. But he'd no choice. Matilda commanded it. So, he leapt into his truck, drove down the dirt road a short distance, and pulled as far as he could into her front yard.

The knock on Ophelia's front door was met swiftly.

"I expected you at some point," Ophelia's hoarse voice cracked.

Ophelia Mockinghew. Immediately noticeable was her short statue with a long thin scar running the length of the upper right corner of her lip to the edge of her nose. Unusually long, thinning strands of silver hair covered the patch on her left eye. Had it not been for her physical appearance, he would have forgotten the real cause he steered clear.

The reason I avoided this place was evident, Nathan confirmed as he surveyed first Ophelia's massive body, then traveled to the living room, spotting numerous items that didn't belong. The clutter inside was ten times as worse as outside. Unexpected and immediately noticeable was the lack of odor he imagined would rush forward and overtake him the moment she opened the door. Perhaps the incense and candles placed in strategic areas minimized the stench. Or, perhaps those items served as the basis for her dark and ungodly practices.

The reasons for distancing myself from her farmhouse were legitimate; but not of her insanity, it seems.

For scattered on every available space were books and trinkets Nathan never knew existed. A duplicate of the book he held in his hand lay open on top of other materials in plain view on a nearby table. Light reading, Nathan snorted.

But what came next out of Ophelia's mouth was no joke.

"It's a shame it took Matilda closing her eyes to open yours!" she shouted. Immediately, her voice lowered. "But I'm a forgiver. Come in, if you dare to believe. If only you would've listened, you'd be more prepared."**

Nathan ignored Ophelia's outburst. He was prepared for the lashing.

"I've seen Matilda. Now, I only need to discover the group that you and she belonged to so that I can find answers to a puzzling set of prints."

He noticed Ophelia's lip curl into a smirk. "Of course you did. And of course, you now do. You could've gained knowledge in the beginning had your nose not been so far up your arse that you couldn't see what was happening right in your own home and on your own acres."

Nathan jerked back. "What do you mean?"

With her cane's help, Ophelia turned and inched toward an end table near her recliner.

The pages turned with ease as the cane settled on a particular one titled "Her Prints" that contained numerous markings and descriptions. More questions than answers.

Nathan nodded, then opened the book he'd brought with him. He pulled out the drawing of his own he'd discovered on his land near the forest.

"So that's what Matilda was trying to show me the day she collapsed on the edge of your farm. She'd seen the prints and knew I couldn't walk to the clearing beyond your property line to confirm if they were true."

"You had plenty of time to share this since my wife' death, if you were the truest friend she believed you were."

Ophelia's eyes turned dark, then fire leaped from them as she swung her cane around. It landed squarely in Nathan's chest.*

"How dare you admonish me, unbeliever!" she spat before continuing, "have you ever visited the Museum of Odd Things" and taken a look at the Directory Of Lost Things hanging on the backroom wall?"*

As badly as he wanted to contradict and surprise her, Nathan stood silent, staring into Ophelia's defiant, knowing face, before she smirked, "I thought not!"

"I've seen this print with me own eyes," Nathan spoke defiantly, pointing to the page in Ophelia's book.

He wouldn't have defied his beliefs and ventured to my home nor have in his possession the book I loaned Matilda had he not seen the prints, she surmised quickly.

She lowered the cane for stability, then hissed, "Show me!"

Now, Part 4:

Undertaking Ophelia's demand to "show me!", Nathan slowly navigated her across the uneven patches of the pasture at his farm's boundary. The endeavor proved more difficult than extracting her from the house into his truck. Both were an ordeal, one he wouldn't accept again. But the situation was urgent.

Not yet daylight savings, evening darted across the sky, leaving the last rays of sunlight.

Cautiously, they approached the clearing. Dread seemed to blanket the pasture at its edge that led into the thick forest. Nathan and Ophelia stood close, gawking at the dark full of half shadows as wind banged the trees, making branches squeak. Without spring leaves, limbs pretended to crinkle and warp like alien claws.

They both stared at each other and understood the reason they hadn't ventured into the forest the past few years.

Ophelia gasped. "There!" she whispered, noticing some type of figure scurry nearby over the ground. Her cane flew up in the direction of a patch of thick brush in front of a lone tree. Nathan's flashlight followed, but only caught the tail end of something moving swiftly into the darkness of cover.

The bright light of the flash finally caught up with whatever was crouched in the bush. Immediately, Ophelia reached into her bosom, pulled out an incense, and waved it in the air in front of them.

Nathan frowned and jerked his head around in utter disbelief. Little good that will do, he thought if it's her solution for protection. One thing was certain, the appearance of a unified front might be the only defense from whatever lurked behind the trees.

That reasoning didn't work either.

Instantly, the brush rattled. A deep roar blasted the night's silence in a swirl of beastly sounds. A shadow projected from behind the tree that resembled a monolith in shape and size.

No sooner than the roaring began, it ceased, replaced by whimpering. Nathan grabbed Ophelia's arm in protest, but she shook it off and moved toward the shadow.

"Over here," she pointed toward another tree. Nathan followed with his flashlight. Hunched in a patch of brush, a hand with the same large prints they'd seen flew up to cover a face but didn't attempt to run and hide.

Instead, a small figure stood, then emerged from the brush.

"Heaven forbid! What the heck is that?" Ophelia blurted as the flashlight in Nathan's trembling hand traveled the length of the the figure's body.

On first glance, the outline from the light revealed that of a child. Harmless enough, they both assumed. After exchanging confused looks, Ophelia tugged on Nathan's shirt, and they both retreated a few steps.

"Again, what the hell is that!"

"A more useful question is, what should we do now?" Nathan asked, his voice shaking, not wanting to advance further to examine it.

[to be continued]