Scarborough Fair and Other Stories Read Free Page B

the depth of the abyss—I’m not exaggerating. It really was an abyss, not just a hole. I have never seen sinkholes in permafrost that deep—plus being jerked out of a sound sleep combined to give me a sense of vertigo. “Omigod!” I know I said aloud, and yelled, “Cindy, are you down there? Are you okay? Say something, honey? Make a noise!”
    The pavement crumbled from under one foot and I stumbled backwards. As I did, my heel encountered something soft and yielding. An angry hissing and the scream of a cat pierced my shell-like ears. I almost jumped back into the hole again but instead tripped over my own feet fell on my butt, which did not endear me to the invisible feline at my feet. Trust a cat not to come when it’s wanted but to be right underfoot when it’s sure to trip you up.
    â€œSorry, kitty,” I said, falling on my rear. I tried to stand, but found my ankles wouldn’t separate enough for me to rise. As I reached toward my feet, my hand encountered a strip of fabric, something that felt like rough cotton, snaking up my legs toward my knees. Now instead of the angry teakettle noise, a loud purring twined around my legs as the cotton strips did the same. “That’s enough of that, cat!” I said sternly. “Naughty kitty!”
    I swear I could hear it laugh, and maybe it was just the stars in my head from my fall, but looking around me, I seemed to see teams of golden eyes surrounding me in the fog, an occasional “mrrup” of encouragement punctuating the thrum of purrs.
    And then, suddenly, something infinitely larger loomed out of the darkness throwing its huge shadow across the frail beam of my flashlight.
    â€œNope, Aunt Annie, she’s not in there either,” Jason said.
    â€œShine your light on my feet so I can get untangled here, will you?” I asked. He did. There was nothing around my ankles but little wraiths of the white fog, that trailed away as I got to my feet. “These cats seem to be practical jokers.”
    Jason started off.
    â€œWatch out!” I cried, and he stopped. “There’s a big hole there. I thought maybe your sister had fallen in...”
    He shone his beam, considerably stronger than mine, into the hole. “Nope,” he said and started off again.
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œTo look for sister,” he said.
    â€œWell, yeah, but watch the ground. I bet that’s not the only new hole in the road.”
    â€œI
know
that, Aunt Annie,” he said disdainfully, as if I were treating him like a baby.
    We walked and walked, with only our flashlight beams to guide us. At first the walking was flat, then it went uphill and down, and though we walked slowly, my feet were getting tired. Despite my coat and the exercise, I began to shiver. I heard Jason sneeze and thought something was blooming which was no doubt bothering his allergies. That’s about the time I realized my hair was blowing into my face and plastering itself over my eyes, and wind was cutting through my leggings. Then a big fat raindrop—the gulls weren’t up yet so I hoped it was a raindrop—plopped on my nose, followed by a lot more of them.
    The wind tore ragged chunks from the fog, revealing that the white blobs were not simply different colored foggy bits, but raggedy, lumbering, forms that looked as if they were the heavily bandaged victims of terrible accidents. As the rain moaned it seemed that these bandaged forms did too, their gauzes bannering like dirty, tattered ribbons away from what was no doubt their corrupted bodies underneath. Although, hadn’t Bert said they were ground up?
    â€œAunt Annie?” Jason asked.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œHow come the mummies of people and cats we saw in the museum had their legs tied together but these guys are walking and the cats are even waving their tails?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “Don’t ask me. I’m no