A Crossing of Paths

Chapter Two

Melissa had sprung for extra crew to unload the van, and they had the job done within an hour. She gave the van driver a handsome tip for showing up when promised, and waved as the big rig and smaller van drove back down the road, leaving her to her newly furnished house, now blessed with her own personal touch. There were still plenty of boxes and suitcases to unpack, but she would leave that till morning; she had to make up the bed and prepare for a much needed sleep. As darkness turned all the windows black, she secured the house, drew a hot bath, poured a glass of wine, and soaked the day from her body in the nice spa bathtub that graced the master bathroom. Clean, refreshed, and slightly intoxicated, she slipped between the covers and fell into the sleep of the dead, and did not dream of Daniel. When she awoke in the morning, rarely remembering her dreams, she would not notice that she hadn't, and thus would not be further disturbed.
What she DID dream about was the mysterious door in the pantry. If she'd been able to recall the dream, she would have found herself being led through the door by a man, an older man with looks one could not classify, with salt and pepper hair, a beard streaked white just thru the middle, and not very tall, but who carried himself with confidence. Why she was allowing herself to be led thus she could not fathom, but he engendered trust, trust enough to follow him down a narrow staircase into what appeared to be the basement, which, again, was never mentioned by the agent or revealed in the floor-plan.
They arrived at the bottom of the staircase which turned to the left into a large room, which seemed to be, for lack of a better description, reminiscent of a dungeon. The walls were fashioned of stone blocks, irregular, cold and rough. Sconces lined the walls at regular intervals, holding thick, large candles which flickered brightly and cast the room in a warm, irregular glow. Also spaced along the walls were iron rings embedded in the stone, from which hung chains, some ending in shackles, just as you'd expect in such a place, but why this house would feature such a horrible thought of a room was beyond her. She could only imagine she had stumbled across the hidden lair of some sick pervert, or worse, a serial killer.
Why, then, was she not frightened of this man? In her dream she calmly followed him as they walked to the center of the room, where a rough-hewn wooden chair, much resembling a throne, was parked next to a large, plump, rather comfortable looking pillow. He motioned her to sit on the pillow as he sat in the chair, which she did, finding it quite comfortable.
The man remained quiet, just watching her, no discernible expression on his face to reveal what his intentions were, but it did not make her nervous. Quite the contrary, she seemed to find a strange peace in his presence. But the big questioned remained, and so she broke the silence and addressed him. "Sir, why am I here?" She did not receive an answer, as she awoke, startled by the alarm she had set the night before. As she sat up in the bed, glancing around, the substance of her dream faded, leaving something nagging within, which she carried with her as she rose to get dressed and carry on with a new day.