“Take this,” the old groundskeeper handed me a battered
flashlight. The yellow beam of light flickered erratically, reminding me of the
fluttering of a moth’s wings when drawn to the flame.
“Give ‘er a good whack.”
The impact left my palm stinging, but I had no trouble
with the flashlight for the remainder of our nocturnal sojourn.
I followed the disheveled man along the winding trails
that made up the large estate. He walked with casual familiarity. I found
myself jumping at every noise, sending the beam of my flashlight dancing
erratically.
“Are we almost there?” I asked.
He nodded.
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