For three agonizing months, an eerie uneasiness settled on Nathan. He attempted to minimize the situation involving the prints found on his property, but failed.
Frost cover had now completely disappeared from the ground. Would the prints still lie there undisturbed? He couldn't wait any longer. Matilda's words drew him like a magnet to the spot he first discovered them.
Once he began, he couldn't contain himself. Daily for a month, he visited the patchy area hoping to spot whatever animal was responsible for leaving the prints. By now, the animal surely must have left the area, he assumed.
But then the unthinkable happened.
The night hour struck ten as Nathan sat in his side chair gripping the encyclopedia. Instantly, tiny pimples formed on his arms, causing hairs to stand and question the reason. He slammed the book shut, then rose quickly.
There standing in front of him sobbing uncontrollably was Matilda. The more she sobbed, the taller her body grew. Long, distorted fingers pointed north in the direction of their town. Within seconds, she switched directions and pointed south; then east; and finally west.
Nathan shrank back. His eyes grew wide as he stumbled over the chair. He was now backed into the corner of the living room with Matilda hovering over him. Words he couldn't understand spewed from her lips as she continued pointing.
Nathan's palms flew to his temples. He squeezed hard. He kept pressure on, but no matter how hard he tried, Matilda's presence wouldn't vanish. Nor would the answer to the directions spill forth. The only thing he recognized were her fingers. The same as the prints he discovered on his property.
"What have I done to deserve this, Matilda?" Nathan stammered, then continued, "I know I wasn't the best husband. But I don't want this. Leave me alone. Why are you punishing me? For not believing you? I do. I do," he lamented. "Believe me. You were right. Something horrible is on the horizon!"
At that exact moment, Matilda's presence slowly retreated. She stood gazing lovingly at Nathan, a smile on her face. In that moment, she turned toward the bookshelf in the opposite corner of the room. From the top shelf, a manuscript tumbled to the floor.
Instead of focusing on the manuscript, Matilda grasped her stomach. She pressed hard before leaning over and heaving heavily. When she'd finished, she turned and without a word, disappeared.
Nathan stood horrified. His hand was shaking as he rubbed it across his parched lips. Was this a waking dream? To what was Matilda trying to point me in the direction of, he wondered?
Nathan knew sleep wouldn't come that night.*
He did the next best thing, he surmised. The stool next to the bookshelf would be useful in reaching the top shelf. He frowned as one by one he removed the entire row of books. Similar to the one that was thrust off the shelf probably by Matilda, these volumes were part of an anthology.
And he'd never bothered reading them.
It wasn't that he was afraid of seeing Matilda. It was the predictions that Matilda would attempt to impart to him during the latter years before she fell ill.
That Nathan now truly did believe his wife was a relief. A small voice in the back of his mind knew the information she tried to tell him was valid. He just didn't want to believe in anything he couldn't see or touch.
Now, his only desire was to uncover the secrecy surrounding the group that she joined and how it connected to the prints he discovered that she also revealed to him on her hands.
He could no longer keep this information to himself. He had to locate the group she belonged to. That meant confronting them. But he'd need the books Matilda possessed and partial knowledge of a few items he'd managed to retain from her rumblings all those years.
Someone held the answers.
Now, Part 3:
And that someone was more accessible than Nathan realized. In fact, the neighbor one farm over adjacent to his property line, facing west. The neighbor he'd passed hundreds of times on his way to town. The neighbor he'd labeled early on in his marriage as unhealthy for his and Matilda's relationship. The neighbor he viewed as "not the sharpest tool in the shed" and someone to avoid at all costs.
And there was her name scribbled in red on the inside flap of the manuscript.
Shocked but not surprised, Nathan shook his head as he flipped through each page. Not once, but numerous times her name appeared beside various dates. No mention of any secret society, yet.
Looking back, he'd exclaim to Matilda on many occasions that if any situation of earth-shattering magnitude were to occur, Ophelia would be right dab in the center issuing orders as if the catastrophe originated with her.
How could he have known that his scathing criticism was on point? Ophelia Mockinghew held the answer to Matilda's weird ramblings all those years. And how would he now approach her in a manner unlike his treatment of her these past twenty years?
It was a delicate balance he'd need to gird up and undertake realizing his personality wasn't wired for the confrontation. But he'd no choice. Matilda commanded it. So, he leapt into his truck, drove down the dirt road a short distance, and pulled as far as he could go into her front yard.
The knock on Ophelia's front door was met swiftly.
"I expected you at some point," Ophelia's hoarse voice cracked.
Ophelia Mockinghew. Immediately noticeable was her short statue with a long thin scar running the length of the upper right corner of her lip to the edge of her nose. Unusually long, thinning strands of silver hair covered the patch on her left eye. Had it not been for her physical appearance, he would have forgotten the real cause he steered clear.
The reason I avoided this place was evident, Nathan confirmed as he surveyed first Ophelia's massive body, then traveled to the living room, spotting numerous items that didn't belong. The clutter inside was ten times as worse as outside. Unexpected and immediately noticeable was the lack of odor he imagined would rush forward and overtake him the moment she opened the door. Perhaps the incense and candles placed in strategic areas minimized the stench. Or, perhaps those items served as the basis for her dark and ungodly practices, he assumed. Matilda never mentioned this aspect of their relationship.
The reasons for distancing myself from her farmhouse were legitimate; but not of her insanity, it seems.
For scattered on every available space were books and trinkets Nathan never knew existed. A duplicate of the book he held in his hand lay open on top of other materials in plan view on a nearby table. Light reading, Nathan snorted.
But what came next out of Ophelia's mouth was no joke.
"It's a shame it took Matilda closing her eyes to open yours!" she shouted. Immediately, her voice lowered. "But I'm a forgiver. Come in, if you dare to believe. If only you would've listened, you'd be more prepared."
Nathan ignored Ophelia's outburst. He was prepared for the lashing.
"I've seen Matilda. Now, I only need to discover the group that you and she belonged to so that I can find answers to a puzzling set of prints."
He noticed Ophelia's lip curl into a smirk. "Of course you did. And of course, you now do. You could've gained knowledge in the beginning had your nose not been so far up your arse that you couldn't see what was happening right in your own home and on your own acres."
Nathan jerked back. "What do you mean?"
With her cane's help, Ophelia turned and inched toward an end table near her recliner.
The pages turned with ease as the cane settled on a particular one titled "Her Prints" that contained numerous markings and descriptions. More questions than answers.
Nathan nodded, then opened the book he'd brought with him. He pulled out the drawing of his own he'd discovered on his land near the forest.
"So that's what Matilda was trying to show me the day she collapsed on the edge of your farm. She'd seen the prints and knew I couldn't walk to the clearing beyond your property line to confirm if they were true."
"You had plenty of time to share this since my wife' death, if you were the truest friend she believed you were."
Ophelia's eyes turned dark, then fire leaped from them as she swung her cane around. It landed squarely in Nathan's chest.
"How dare you admonish me, unbeliever!" she spat before continuing, "have you ever visited the Museum of Odd Things" and taken a look at the Directory Of Lost Things hanging on the backroom wall?"
As badly as he wanted to contradict and surprise her, Nathan stood silent, staring into Ophelia's defiant, knowing face, before she smirked, "I thought not!"
"I've seen this print with me own eyes," Nathan spoke defiantly, pointing to the page in Ophelia's book.
He wouldn't have defied his beliefs and ventured to my home nor have in his possession the book I loaned Matilda had he not seen the prints, she surmised quickly.
She lowered the cane for stability, then hissed, "Show me!"
[to be continued]
For my theme, I was inspired by and utilized the 
6 february 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2639: a nice illusion;
28 february 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2661: directory of lost things; and
25 february 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2658: museum of odd things
Good luck everyone with whatever your endeavors.
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g) "Flames." What is Apophysis 2.09. https://flam3.com/
English is my native language.
If translation included, I use DeepL to assist my readers.
Thanks for your patience an understanding.
El inglés es mi lengua materna.
Si se incluye traducción, utilizo DeepL para ayudar a mis lectores.
Gracias por su paciencia y comprensión.
????
anxiety:
pushed hair back from forehead
head pounded with tension
pinched bridge of his nose
lips grew thin and firm
voice thick and unsteady
sweat made dark circles under his arms
ache in the belly telling him something was wrong
ominous thoughts squirmed at the back of her mind
cold spiderlike fingers racing up and down my spine
thousands of questions prowling through my mind
he sat on the horns of his dilemma
FROZE:
Watched in numbed horror
Made quiet sound of helplessness
Too overwhelmed with terror to move
Blood drained from face
Felt vulnerable
Took long slow deep breath
Felt imprisoned by fear
Could no longer see anything but the threat
Starred mindlessly, paralyzed
FIGHT:
His nostrils flared; his fist clenchedanxiety fight
Jaw thrust forward, ready for battle
Anger, like fire leaping from her eyes
Sat ramrod straight on edge of chair
Face still, eyes blazing
Splash of anger crossed his face
Lips curled over teeth
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other
????