Winds of terror Read Free

her aunt, but she knew how imkind Aimt Addie could be. She had a feeling that her debt to her mother was going to be repaid with a good deal of interest

    Chapter 2
    There was a small landing where the stairs curved upwards for the second time, and it was here that Melanie paused to look out the cathedral window at the slope behind the house. In the distance, she could make out the workers in the cotton fields. Scattered about in the woods, like large balls of crispy white popcorn, the dogwood trees proudly displayed.their first blossoms.
    It was a beautiful scene, and it was with a sigh that Melanie turned to follow Mark up the remaining steps. It was dark, but she could see that the double doors directly in front of them, which led to the sun room, were closed. It had been here, in the room with the large glass windows overlooking the veranda, that the children had played when they were small.
    Melanie glanced to the right. There were four bedrooms down that way—two empty, two occupied. The first on one side had belonged to her Uncle Seth and his wife, Mark and Todd's parents; the second had been Todd's. Directly across from Todd's old room were the quarters Mark occupied now, and next to that was Cale's bedroom.
    Mark turned to the left, and, as they walked down the hall, Melanie stifled the impulse to ask Mark if the first door they passed, on her right, was still locked and sealed. She could not stop from shivering. She had been only a child, but she could clearly remember accompanying her mother on the long, urgent, nighttime bus trip that had ended at Uncle Hartley's bedside.
    They had arrived by midmorning. Her mother and Aunt Addie stayed in the room all day, while the children were made to play downstairs and be very quiet. People came

    and went, and there was a hushed atmosphere of gloom and apprehension hanging over the house.
    Towards evening, Dr. Ambrose took off his coat as though he were preparing to stay for awhile. He went upstairs, carrying his worn black leather bag, and Hilda shooed the children from the downstairs haUway into the living room, where a big fire was roaring. Even the children were quiet and subdued.
    At last, she was put into one of the bedrooms. It must have been about eleven o'clock, Melanie remembered, when her mother had come to that room to tell her that her uncle had died. Melanie heard weeping and wailing throughout the house, and she buried her face in her pillow, sobbing brokenly.
    Her mother had sat beside her, patting her gently, but after awhile, she had returned to Addie. Melanie had lain silently for a few moments; then she had gotten up, put on her robe and slippers, and padded from the bedroom out into the darkened hall. She had stood in the shadows as old Luke Walker arrived with his long, handwoven basket, and she had watched him come out of the room, a few moments later, carrying a sheet-draped mound in the same basket.
    She had been standing there, in the gloomy hall, when Aunt Addie came out of the room and announced: "I want this room locked and sealed for the remainder of the life of this house." Her aunt's voice rang out clear and unwavering. "No one shall enter this room again."
    Melanie had strained as her mother and her Aunt Claire gently tried to persuade Addie to let them clean the room first. The bed was still unmade, and Uncle Hartley's scarcely touched meal grew cold on the bedside table.
    "No," she had heard Addie say, firmly. "No one shall enter here again."
    Now, close to fifteen years later, Melanie stood outside the door and wondered if the room were, indeed, just as it had been the night her uncle had died.
    Mark sensed her thoughts as she stood rigidly outside the closed door. "It has never been opened, Melanie," he said, quietly. "It's the way Aunt Addie wanted it. She has never even been in there herself."
    The bell clanged again, even more impatiently. Mark touched her arm. "We had better go to her now."
    They walked on down the hall to a door on