Slowing his pace, Stephen steps up next to the open door but refrains from touching the handle at first. The heavy darkness behind the frame seems to be peering out at him as he reaches up to push the door closed. It is at this time, with his hand extended, as he gets closer to the doorway to the basement, he hears a faint, yet familiar low raspy laugh.
Stephen pauses for a moment, wondering if what he just heard actually happened. He thinks to himself, “Am I simply remembering the sordid past due to the events that happened in the basement?” With the door slightly cracked open, he wonders if the scent of the moist earthen floor merely triggered a memory.
Very gently, in a slow fluid motion with his foot, he pushes the door shut until it clicks. For several minutes, he stares at the frame and wood with its thick inlaid iron design and heavy bolted hinges. He salts the other half of the egg he has already taken a bite out of, plops it into his mouth and chews it up as he watches the handle of the door for movement.
Standing there for several more minutes, thinking and wondering what it is he heard coming from the basement steps, Stephen slowly salts the remaining egg. He then tips the shaker onto its side, loosens the lid, and empties the entire contents in a line at the base of the basement door. Pulling his ring of keys out of his pocket, he inserts the old ornate key into the door, turning it until he hears the lock click. Without pausing any further, he quietly continues down the hall to his study.
To Dance With A Fetch and
The Eyes Of A Fetch
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