The Winter Letter (3 page)

First, let me tell you I am sorry for your loss. This is a difficult time for you and I know you are hurting. I know about the fire. I know about your parents. I know how the terrible accident happened. I know what she said to you in room 14. I know you are angry and alone and miserable. I also know that right now you are asking yourself many loud questions. I can hear them as clear as a voice. 

First, the most obvious question, which you have yet again attempted to answer by glancing at the closing of this letter: “Who am I?” The second question is, “How did I know these things happened?” and the third you are asking is, “Am I responsible?” 

Today, in this letter, I offer no answers, but I do offer them. Today, get on the 3:30 train. Go south. Get off at sunset, and walk deep into the Eastern woods. Knock on the door of the only house you come across.

I know this brings up a fourth question, which is the most important: “Am I good; can I be trusted?” This question you will have to answer on your own. This is my offer. I urge you to take it, but it is your choice. After today, you will not find the house.

Affectionately,     

King Mel Masih

P.S. If you leave now you will have enough time to make it on foot.

Will’s thoughts stampeded together. He shook his head trying to sort out at least one of the million incomplete sentences that followed, like
What in the worl— and How did this happe—
’. Didn’t the P.S. say, A
nswer the door
yesterday? He remembered the sudden knock that made him nearly pass out. How did it change? Was he losing his mind? He pulled out the picture of his family and forced himself to stare at it. As he did one sob pressed into another, and another, until they grouped together into a painful, angry growl.

Who is this King?
thought Will. 

“Did he kill my parents?” he said through clenched teeth. 

“He did; there’s no other way,” he whispered to himself. 

Will’s brow lowered. He wiped his burning eyes with his numb hands and strained until the tears stopped. Those would be the last he would allow until he knew the truth. 

He lifted the light to a small clock over on his father’s desk: 3:15.

 ***

Officer Andy climbed through the burnt walls and into the backyard. Even from here he could hear Will’s sobs. How he hated to see William so broken. No young one should have to feel such pain. Although he had just met Will, he felt responsible for him, especially since his mother had asked him to watch out for her son. He would give Will some space, for the moment, then try to figure out a way to comfort the boy. 

The 3:30 train announced its arrival at 3:20. 

“Just on time,” said Andy, looking at his watch. When the horn stopped blowing he listened closely. Will’s sobs had silenced. Turning he made his way back into the house. Outside the library door was the box of maps and set beside it was his flashlight. Andy leaned in the doorway to look inside. 

Will was gone.

Four
The Crooked House

The train rocked back and forth and kept perfect
chuck a’ cluck
rhythm. Will unbuckled his dad’s bag, took the letter out, read it, and put it back at least four times. He studied his mother’s pendent, twirling the silver rope around his fingers and sliding the bars of metal that imprisoned the enclosed locket. After a few minutes he gave up trying to unlock the puzzle and watched half frozen rain streak across the windows. Soon, his eyes grew heavy and he drifted into sleep, gripping the pendant in one hand and holding his Dad’s bag in the other.

Will slept through an orange lit train car. Far to the right the sun was melting away for the day, blending into the earth, leaving streams of orange flowing into the illuminated lake created to birth tomorrow. In the distant land where the sun sets and sleeps the sky turned pink as the day’s last inferno lit the lingering clouds. Will woke when the train began to slow down and the last slice of sun fell out of sight.

“Get off at sunset,” Will said to himself. He gathered his things and when the chuck a’ cluck stopped he hopped out onto an empty train platform. He was the only person there. The stop was nothing more than a base of concrete wrapped in trees. In its middle sat a bench longing for company, and to the left steps led down from the platform and into the woods. Will swallowed hard and (without letting himself think about it) descended the steps, following a hardly worn path into the trees.  

At first, under the thick canopy, the path was scarcely visible, but soon after, dark fell on everything and Will couldn’t see his hands in front of his face nor the trail at his feet. Now, he wished he
had
stolen Andy’s flashlight. As he went he tripped over every brier, bush, and fuzzy moving thing. He grabbed thorns, ran face first into trees, and slipped on uneven ground until, to top the misery off, he flipped nose chasing toes down a hill and collided face first with a dirt embankment. 

That’s when a steady rain decided to fall. 

Will put his back to the dirt wall and pulled his legs close to his chest. Leaning back he gritted his teeth. “I can’t take it anymore! If you want to kill me, come and do it!” he screamed at nobody. The rain flowed through his hair and made his dry eyes look as if he was crying, but he was not. He sat shivering, staring into the black, and at each thought of his parents he shook his head violently, trying to erase the thought like a memory
etch-a-sketch
.

Suddenly, something bright hopped onto one of Will’s wet eyelashes and rode into his vision. 

Squinting and shielding his eyes, he could just make out a faint light dancing through the rain. It was dim and distant, but still enough to strengthen his legs. He pushed back to his feet and commanded himself to move. He still tripped and fell, but as the light grew stronger his worrying about the briers and the bushes faded. There was only the single little light: an earth star guiding his steps. He dare not look away, not even for a moment. The closer he got, the brighter it shined, until he reached the top of a hill where there was a candle sitting on a crooked table. The flame flickered and fluttered, but kept burning even in the midst of the downpour. Down the opposite side of the hill sat a house that leaned to the left. 

Waisting no time, Will rushed down, tripping over his own feet all the way to the crooked front door. He reached up to knock, but a split second before his knuckles hit the wood he stopped.
What if this King guy is on the other side?
he thought.
What if it’s a trap?

Slowly he backed away and snuck around the side of the house to one of the crooked windows. Lifting on his tip-toes he peaked in. There was an old looking stove (one of those black ones made to burn wood) with many pots on top hissing out steam. Plates and glasses full of what looked like ice tea crowded a sopping wet, crooked wood table. Will pushed himself a bit higher onto his toes. He couldn’t see anybody inside.

“It ain’t nice to be sneaking round folks houses at night son,” said a voice from behind. 

Will spun around to a little old lady holding a lantern in one hand and pointing her cane at his chest with the other. She wore one of those bright yellow rain jackets with matching boots.

“I— I’m sorry, M’am. I thought someone else lived here,” Will answered.

“M’am? Well I guess you do have some good up-bringin after all!” 

“I’m sorry for bothering you. I was just—”

“Now, don’t go explainin boy. I know why you’re here. I been knowin all along, just don’t think you should be sneakin round, especially tonight. It’s been crazy round here, busier than the last three hundred years.” The little old lady lowered the cane and looked down at where her watch would have been if she had one. “Anyway, you’re late,” she said, “what’d ya do stop and take a nap?“ With that she laughed at some joke Will didn’t get.

“I’m late?” Will said, “You know why I’m here?”

“Of course I do William,” the old lady replied. 

“It’s Will—Wait, you know my name?!”

“Yes silly, I know your name, and I’m Ms. Lani. Now, get over here and open the door for an old lady. Let’s talk inside. You look like you’re freezing, and I’m getting soaked. I’m too old to be playin in the rain.”

Will was shivering, so he did as he was told. 

Inside was old. The floor was old. The table was old. The rocking chair was old; the stove, the pots, the blankets, even the air. Everything was old, and smelled old, and looked old, and acted old; everything but the old lady. Although she walked with a cane she had the spunk of a teenager. 

“So where is King Mel?” Will asked. 

The old lady seemed to not hear.

“Excuse me M’am. Where is King Mel?!” Will asked again more loudly, as if talking to a person with a hearing problem. The little old lady turned and threw a towel in his face.

“I ain’t deaf, not yet,” she said. “Now get out of those wet clothes.”

Will dried off. Then, he hid around the corner and put on some not as soaked clothes from his bag. Afterwards, he tried to ask the old lady questions, but she told him to
hold his horses
until they had a bite to eat. She then bossed him to the sink where she took water and poured it over his hands. 

The majority of the little house was one big room that was the dining room, the kitchen, the living-room, and the bedroom (except with no bed). There were three doors: one Will guessed was a closet; the one he had entered from; and another on the other side of the room that led out of the back of the house. Will figured the bathroom was somewhere out in the rain. He sat at the table and decided not to eat until being invited to. He learned a lot during that meal. Like, to chew with his mouth closed, not to talk with his mouth full, to hold his fork properly, and to keep his elbows off the table. However, after tasting the food he didn’t mind so much. 

Ms. Lani started the conversation while they ate. “So you got you a letter didn’t ya?” she said matter of factly.

“Yes Ma—”

“And it told you to come here, didn’t it?”

“Yes M’am, how did you kn—”

“And you’re looking for a few answers, ain’t ya? 

”I wanna kn—“

”Well I’ll tell ya, I don’t have any. I’m always the last to know, but I know where ya can find em. 

“Where can I—”

“Finish your meal honey. Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Will gave up and didn’t speak until he sopped up the last of his gravy with a biscuit and Ms. Lani took his plate. She dropped it in the old crooked sink and motioned for Will to follow. With quite the wobble she walked to the other side of the one room house, to the door of the only closet, and offered to hang his bag while he slept for the night. 

“I can’t stay. I just need to know what’s going on,” Will said.

“You can’t stay?” Ms. Lani replied. She pulled back a curtain to a crooked window so black it looked painted. “Where you gonna go? You can’t go trompin out in the woods in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll follow the trail. How do you get back to the train station?”

Ms. Lani laughed. “How would I know? I’ve spent the last two hundred years in Mississippi!”

“Two hundred years?”

“Yep, only been here for about 45 minutes or so. I always arrive early, unlike
some
people.”

This woman was crazy, but she was right. Will knew he’d never find his way back to the platform in the dark, and besides, the next train wouldn’t come till tomorrow.

“Ok, I’ll stay,” Will said once he realized he couldn’t think of any other solution.

“Good. It’s nice to have some company,” Ms. Lani replied. She took his bag, opened the door of the closet, and hung it on the inside doorknob. Then, reaching in, she pulled out a pallet that was already prepared. 

Will washed up in the sink and laid down. The next thing he knew he was floating from one dream to another, trying to grasp a sky full of faces he was sure he would see nevermore, while Ms. Lani rocked the night away in her crooked, creepy, squeaky rocking chair.

Five
Down and Down and Down...

“Wake up Will! Time to get some breakfast. You’ll need the energy for your journey down the mountain. I think ya had better get going before the birds come out. Ya never know what they might do this time of year. Last year, bout this time, I found one living on my roof. When I asked it what it was doing it asked
me
for money, then if it could stay in my guest room! Can you believe that?!”

“What?” Will asked through drowsy irritable eyes. “What mountain? And birds, living in your guest room? What guest room?”

Ms. Lani let out a huff of a laugh. “Come eat sleepyhead.”

Will got up and followed Ms. Lani out the back door to a porch.  A small path was the only space between the house and the forest as if it has been dropped in from the sky. The two sat and ate their fill of sausage links, biscuits, gravy, eggs, and a large glass of orange juice. After the meal Will was no longer irritable, at least until Ms. Lani confirmed he was right about the bathroom being outside and made him do the dishes.

“Come over here and help me,” Ms. Lani said once Will finished. She led him to the center of the room and bending over (which looked quite painful to Will) she flipped up one side of the pallet Will had slept on. Underneath was a trap door in the floor. She undid the latch and made Will pull it open, revealing a set of stairs that disappeared into the dark. Without explaining the old woman walked down, and Will, not knowing what to do, followed.

Beneath the crooked house was a dreary color that made grey feel bright. The air was musty, and everything seemed depressed. The rocks looked sad; the single lantern (somehow already lit) looked lonely; even the dark seemed like it wanted some company. The light from the lantern revealed a well circled by stacked stones three foot high. Ms. Lani walked over and picked up a rope that was already tied around a beam in the corner. She tossed the loose end down the well.