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Fog moved sinuously — billowing, as it hugged the surface of the lake — and from a distance the dark castle looked as if it were floating atop a cloud. No light showed within those crenellated stone walls; it was as if the structure were some ghostly apparition — a mirage of the past.
A fish jumped; the splash of its return to the water was muffled by the fog. Above the swirling vapors, one large, black night bird flapped its way across a starless sky. Then, as if giving lie to its ghostly appearance, somewhere within the confines of the castle a clock struck midnight.
A flashlight flickered briefly in one window on the third floor. It moved on to the next window and then, at the corner of the castle, the lights came on in a large room.
“I say, Morgan, isn’t it a bit chancey; I mean, lights and all that?” The question came from the older of two men as he gazed somewhat apprehensively down at a deeply sleeping girl.
“You should know me better than that, Lord Medwell. She won’t awaken until I tell her to. Watch.” He laid down the camera case he was carrying and lifted the covers from the reclining girl’s body.
The young girl — freckled-faced, and with a surprisingly mature body for one her age — was dressed in skin-tight white shorts and was braless beneath her powder blue blouse. She lay crosswise on the bed, and stared up at an older girl who was standing before a mirror and running a comb through long blonde hair.
“But aren’t you excited?” Marylou asked, shivering in vicarious enjoyment. “I mean… I would be! After all, your wedding is only two days away, and then you and Dick go to that groovy castle place in Ireland for your honeymoon. Why, you must be excited.”
“Of course I am, silly.” Sue’s voice was patient with her cousin. “I’m happy and excited. But I’m also calm.” That last statement was a lie, but Marylou couldn’t know it. The younger girl couldn’t see the turmoil Sue felt, the oppressive feeling of apprehension that bordered on fear.
“It must be wonderful to be really in love and be old enough to get married… and wake up in bed next to your husband.” Marylou put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “I mean my husband. If I had a husband.”
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.