Faerie Folly and Wizard Wands

Chapter Six

Late afternoon, Sabine found her house. It was directly on the lane, two miles from the woman's-Miss Joan-house, and three and a half miles from the station. Fairly secluded, Sabine felt right at peace.

A waist high, white picket fence went around the property, with a double swinging gate, and an overgrown mess of weeds for garden and lawn. This house, too, was white, and three storeys, with large glass windows, and tall cement steps going up to the front door.

In the golden dusk coming, Sabine took out the large key, which was iron and old fashioned, and unlocked her door, entering her semi-permanent household. She refused to get attached immediately, as permanence, lately, had become something unlooked for.

Dank, dusty, yet well put together and half-furnished, Sabine was well satisfied with the place.

It let in plenty light-more than she'd ever had in youth, in the glowing red cedar house of Granna. Finding how the house had candles for her already, she lit the fire and a few candles against the oncoming eve, and set to explore.

It struck her odd that there was no electricity, for it was obvious from Miss Joan's house and lines that electric power was available, just as it was in the wide fast world Sabine had entered a few days ago. To be thrown back into a home with no automatic lighting made her realize how much she had quickly depended upon the new technologies she had always lived without. Granna had followed the gypsy cults, Sabine now knew, the hippies of the forest, and the people who dwelled far from civilization. But now she was again in the same atmosphere, and she carried a candle with her as she moved about in the golden sunlight and coming eve.

The front door opened to a large sitting room. Wooden floors, and large tall windows with no drapes let in leftover light as night crept in. She removed slip covers to reveal a rather long couch between two windows which faced the large window that viewed the road. Two chairs, one large and matching the plain beige coloured sofa, and another a wooden rocking chair, were also sitting almost haphazardly to the side. A large rectangle rug, with a slightly frayed corner and a strange, fantastical design sat in the centre of the room on the dark wooden floor.

The ceiling was not too high, but quite tall in actuality, iron candlesticks hung on the walls. The room was airy, and not oppressive, as the atmosphere in Granna's house, or the boat or train. Sabine rather enjoyed the feel.

The kitchen was through a wide, wooden door. When she opened it by the large brass knob, strange marks above the door handle caught her glance. A language in runes or symbols seemed to be carved into the thick wood on the side of the door. Frowning, she traced the marks, to be rewarded with a quick, intense burning.

Dismissing this odd phenomenon reluctantly, she moved into the kitchen, where the windows faced the western, dying sunset. In the gloaming, she found her kitchen to have slightly worn, deep cream linoleum floor, a heavy wooden table with four chairs, and a few cabinets, a sink, and an old-fashioned ice box. She found a pantry half-filled with nonperishable foods in cans and flour and sugar in heavy bags on the floor. There wasn't a single sign of mice or bugs.

Around the corner of the sitting room was a tall, wide staircase hidden from the doorway, and she climbed the creaking wooden stairs with the candle, and explored again, finding a tall hallway, long, with four rooms, all with four-poster beds and a window. A few had a chair, too, and two each had a bureau; at the end of the hall was a spacious bathroom with a clawed bathtub and sink. Thankfully, there was plumbing. The window here also faced west, and there was a large mirror in an ornate frame. The attic, she found, could be reached by a narrow stair at the other end of the hall.

She returned to the sitting room, where the fire and candles cast familiar and home-like golden flickers. She took off the covers from the furniture, and cast them on the floor for the time being, and took the rocker to the front of the fire.

As she sat and rocked, she felt how this old house was more than a place called home for her than any other house she'd ever lived in. Yet, still, she felt no permanence in the dwelling, though there was a strange acceptance to be sensed.

Her mind went back to the dream, and as she watched the dancing flames before her, her mind opened, and she felt the cool waves of the forest breezes caress her; as they had always done in her forgotten youth, and she saw the pixie face of the lady, saying "He is a great one, your father" in a delicate gentle voice, and now Sabine suddenly understood the odd language in her dream, yet no memory of a name for the lady prevailed. As to who this pixie was, Sabine had no inkling, for the doors in her head were still rusted, and though unlocked, could only let through a few small details.

She went upstairs when she snapped from reminiscing; and chose one of the bedrooms for her own. She took up her trunk, which had laid forgotten by the doorway, and only then did she fully realize how, in the past four days, she had spun out of control and into a realm of entire newness.