Read Online Out of the Mist by EvergreenWritersGroup - Free Book Online Page A

pretend to be a railway station, an unsatisfying
solution for my participation. I quickly tired of standing over the
tracks.
    “Let me wind it up?” I inserted
the key into the side of the clockwork engine and wound until it
was too hard to turn. The locomotive looked convincingly real. It
was painted olive-green with black trim and resembled a turn of the
century steam engine. Wheels ready to spin, I carefully placed the
engine on the track. Uncle Ted had improvised a small bellows above
the wheels so that when they turned they inflated the bellows,
activating a horn that sounded like an owl’s hoot. It performed
erratically.
    “Will the engine’s horn work?”
I was disappointed because so far it had failed to hoot.
    “Yes, in a minute, but the
engine has to make more circuits before the bellows inflate fully.
Then the horn will sound. ” The locomotive
efficiently made its way around the track.
    Winston’s eyes followed. After
several circuits , he placed his paw on
the rails blocking the engine’s progress. The clockwork locomotive
struck him and clambered up his leg, its mechanism tracked into his
shaggy black fur. Yelping, he fled, hoping to leave the locomotive
behind. It didn’t cooperate. It wound more fur into its interior
mechanisms. Uttering a tormented howl, Winston raced down the
stairs with Uncle Ted and me in hot pursuit. He sought refuge in
the dining room, but the glass door was closed. Ted sat on the
floor beside the dog in front of the door. He put an arm around the
animal’s neck and, talking softly, calmed him down. With his other
hand he tackled the complicated job of extracting the animal’s fur
from the engine’s clockwork.
    We heard the anti-aircraft guns
booming in the distance. “Is that Granddad pounding on the table
for more food ? ” murmured Ted . We laughed silently.
    Winston panicked and
tensed his body at the sound. I comforted him more. We spoke in
whispers because we knew that, on the other side of the door, they
were conducting their séance. Uncle Ted’s ear pressed hard against
the keyhole. I strained to look through the frosted glass
panels.
    My family and their
friends were seated around a table. In an armchair at one end sat
Mrs. Grimes, who breathed deeply. Her face, with the red light
shining directly on it, was contorted. Irregularities in the door’s
glass gave everyone a distorted shape, like in the hall of magic
mirrors.
    “We have a contact,” Mrs.
Grimes gasped. “Can I bring him down?”
    “Who,” asked Grandmother?
    “He says he will tell you when he gets
down. He’s strong now.”
    “Let him down,” chipped in Mother.
“Perhaps we knew him once.”
    Mrs. Grimes writhed in her
armchair. “Oh! It’s a transformation.” Chest puffed out, prominent
chin extended forward, Mrs. Grimes breathing deepened. She
gurgled.
    “I am here to pass on important
news,” she squawked.
    “Who are you and for whom is
the news?” Grandmother spoke clearly and firmly. Lilly giggled
nervously from the back of the room.
    The locomotive buzzed into life
for a moment, winding more fur into its mechanism. Winston
whimpered and jerked forward but Uncle Ted, arm around the dog’s
neck, restrained him. Ted’s other hand laboured on to untangle the
clockwork locomotive. I continued my efforts to calm the dog by
stroking his head.
    I pressed my face onto the pane
of frosted glass to see more. Mrs. Grimes’s expression was twisted,
her cheeks bulged.
    Mrs. Grimes, in her new voice, rasped, “Why don’t
you leave me alone and bugger off?”
    “Oh!” exclaimed Grandmother.
    “What do you want, you old lard pot?”
    “Who are you?” repeated Grandmother.
    “Sometimes I am a creature of the night, sometimes I am he who comes
for you. I can be many things ! Would you like me to be your friend?”
    “Well, yes, I suppose we would.”
    “Then prove it,” the voice squawked.
Sweat poured down the sides of Mrs. Grimes’ face. “We can prove our
friendship through