A Crossing of Paths

Chapter Ten.

into the living room....Sur's living room....but it was different. The wild eclectic mix of art and furnishings that had grown on her now had a new flavor to it......her own. Instead of portraits and candids of strangers, there were now those of the people she knew and loved, past and present, her Parents, her late husband Daniel, other friends and family. The couch she had sat on facing Sur's commanding throne had been replaced with the overstuffed antique she had hauled with her everywhere she had moved, but the throne remained in it's place of honor, tho now it had a wide black ribbon across the back of the chair. On the seat of the throne lay a book, with the words "Guest Book" in fine gold calligraphy.
Many of Sur's strange erotic sculptures were mixed in with Melissa's own more muted pieces, and as she gazed about in confusion and wonder, it all seemed perfectly natural, just the way she would have had it. She wondered around the bar into the kitchen to see that she had a more commanding impact, with all of her personal appliances parked on the countertops and the island, including her expensive set of German cutlery. It was all as it should be, only Melissa couldn't quite remember it being this way, and she ran back into the bedroom, easily found a pair of jeans and a top, got dressed quickly, and ran out the door.
Her car was parked in front, instead of back at her house where she last remembered leaving it, but she dismissed the odd fact and hopped in, throwing gravel as she tore out of the drive and onto the road, heading towards her house. Within a few bone-jaring seconds, driving hell-bent down the bad road, she had to suddenly stand on the brakes as she almost ran into a metal gate barring the road where her property began. A fading and badly painted sign was hung from the gate, declaring "PROPERTY CONDEMMED........NO TRESPASSING" Melissa was shaking now, frightened at the turn her life had taken, as she walked up to the gate and tried to pull it open, only to be defeated by a rusted padlock and chain. Totally frustrated, she growled and climbed over the gate, hitting the ground running as she sprinted the remaining quarter mile.
She came up short, breathing heavy from the exertion, and stared at the carnage that once was her home. It was now nothing but the charred remains of a house that had burned, with no fire department to save it, a black and ashen mess of what was once a fine residence. Melissa edged forward, stepping over the burnt wreckage, which appeared to have been in this state for quite some time, not warm and smoking from an overnight fire. Even the smell of burnt wood was muted, and it even seemed to have rained on the place many times since the fire. Picking her way in a daze thru this impossibility, she glanced down and stop suddenly, almost toppling over into a dark pit that occupied the back half of the house, where the floor had burned thru to reveal the basement she now knew for certain was there but had never visited.....or had she?
She drew in a sharp breath as she began to form a picture in her mind, which she compared with the burnt remains of various pieces of strange furniture and benches scattered about the pit, the blackened chains that lay on the sooty floor, and then zeroed in on what was left of the simple rail she knew so well, two posts and a cross beam, heavily charred but still recognizable. That was where she had been broken, her demons released, her spirit freed from a self-imposed prison. But how could any of that have happened, how could her house be in this state, and why had she awoken in the cabin this morning? She knew why, much like a phrase sits right on the tip of someone's tongue when they struggle to find a word, but it was creeping back ever so slowly. With a cry, she turned and ran back down the road, heading back to the cabin.
She ran back thru the door she had left wide open and screamed out, "Sur, Sur, where are you, what is happening to me?!" She was greeted by silence, and she did not scream out again, for as she twirled around, staring at her new reality, her eyes fell upon the guest book sitting on Sur's chair. Shaking, she crept over and picked it up, opening the leather cover to reveal cream colored pages filled with signatures and comments.........

Sur, my dear Sir, I will never cut again, thanks to you! All my love, Stephanie

My husband gets back the girl he always deserved, thank you, my teacher. Grace

You are the cruelest man a girl could ever hope for, Sur, thank you for your kindness! Brigit

and on and on, a testimony to the special "counseling" ability that Sur had laid claim to. Then, halfway thru the book, she encountered a folded up and yellowing page of newspaper, which she removed and carefully unfolded. Near the top was a newsprint photo of the smoldering ruins of the house she had been living in, or thought she had. The leading caption declared "Arson determined in House fire deaths of local man and companion". She read on, a tear starting to form at the edge of her eye, of how Sur Thomas, a somewhat infamous recluse, and a female visitor, had both died in the fire that had been started by the liberal use of kerosene by a man who made little effort to make it look accidental. She found a second folded up page from a later edition that spoke of the arrest of a local bible-thumping crazy that had bragged to some close friends that he had sent God that "heathen devil worshipper and his homosexual orgy den". He was later convicted, easily, of murder, with the classification of hate crime tacked on for good measure, by a jury of his peers.
As Melissa wondered throughout the house, she found more and more evidence that she had lived in this cabin since she had moved from back East, had bought it and not the house she had, what, dreamed she'd been living in all this time? And she discovered her answering machine, full of messages from Kay, her agent, concerned friends asking about her, and a few frantic ones from her brother. And so, as she soaked it all in, it all came back to her, the truth of how she had picked the cabin out from the internet, moved out just as she thought she had to the other house, went to bed the first night, and began her strange journey of redemption with the aid of a stern, cruel, and yet most kindly gentlemen who broke thru her wall of denial and freed her to grieve for her losses. Then, looking out the window over the kitchen sink, there in the back of the cabin, she saw the grave and the stone marker. She slowly walked outside, into the sunlight, knelt down over the grave and read the name of her benefactor.....Sur Thomas. With a gentle smile, and a single tear that dropped onto the dirt, she whispered..........

"Rumplestillskin, my dear Sur......Rumplestillskin..."