Eclipse (part 25 of 32)
Back to Part 24"We're going out the side entrance today. There are paparazzi crowding
the front." Uncle nods his head and we follow him through the throng in
the lobby. Henry lumbers ahead of us, parting the crowds with his large
body. The noise and chatter seem to overflow my senses and I shake my
head, trying to clear it.
"Follow me." Henry points, and we duck past the suited men at the door.
It's a relief to go outside, but the unusually hot and humid air sucks
the last of my energy out of me. I glance up at the sun, squinting. Out
of the corner of my eye I see a man up on a balcony, watching us. I stop
and turn for a better look, but he's gone.
"What is it? Is someone watching us?" Mireille follows my gaze.
"I thought I saw a man." I shrug.
"What did he look like?" Henry asks as he opens the car door for us.
"He was like a shadow in the sun. Very thin. With an overcoat and hat."
I can't imagine how hot he must be, dressed like that in such weather. I
go to climb in but Henry stops me.
"Where did you see him?"
"Over there- on that...oh, it's a fire escape." I had thought it was a
balcony. I'm starting to doubt now that I saw anyone at all, and feel
silly for mentioning it.
"Sounds like the matchstick man." Henry mutters under his breath.
"Don't be ridiculous." Mireille's voice cuts in. "There's no such
thing."
"Please everyone, let's all get in the car." Uncle gestures and nods. I
get in and settle myself between Mirelle and Henry.
"What's the matchstick man?" I ask him.
"Kirika, don't bother with it!" Mireille says sharply.
"It's just a superstition. It means nothing." Uncle leans forward to
adjust the air conditioning vents.
"Then tell me." I look back at Henry, who shrugs uncomfortably and
clears his throat.
"The matchstick man is.... like a warning, I guess." he looks down and
adjusts his tie, not looking at me. The silence in the car is heavy like
lead. I feel the same fear overtake me, the familiar chill I get when I
see the nightmare room.
"It's death, isn't it?" I whisper aloud. No one says anything, and Henry
turns to look out the window. Mireille sighs and turns her head away,
avoiding me.
I close my eyes and lean back, taking a deep breath. All I can see is
that image in the sun, thin and seeming to stare at me.
The matchstick man...a messenger of death.
Onwards to Part 26
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