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The Moorwood Legacy — Iris Foster
The dark house was flanked on one side by the neat rows of Colonials and ranches that was Ridge Hills; on the other tall thick trees and scrub pine stretched back as far as the eye could see widening into acres of forest. -- Laura felt an emptiness as they drove up to the big house alone in the forest. This was not a place for happiness. The house was like a mausoleum, fit only for the dead past.
THE DARK HOUSE
was flanked on one side by the neat rows of Colonials and ranches that was Ridge Hills; on the other, tall thick trees and scrub pine stretched back as far as the eye could see, widening into acres of forest. The house seemed to brood behind the gray slats of its shutters as though sullenly resisting the twentieth century. Laura felt an emptiness inside her as they drove up to the house. How could she live here -- how could this place ever be home? It was too much for her; it was everything that she hated. She could feel her marriage dissolving in bitterness about her, and felt it was all the fault of the house. No, this was not a place for happiness. The house was like a mausoleum, fit only for the dead past. Would it be the place of Laura's death too?
THE SPOILS OF LOVE
They heard a crash against the howl of the wind and the drive of the rain; then it came again, breaking glass. Now they could hear a thumping, like heavy clubs, and the crash of metal.
Harry said, “My car.”
Marge looked terrified. “What?”
Harry ran to the front door, followed by Laura, Marge behind her. The rain whipped in, out of the blackness.
“They got my car!” yelled Harry. Laura slipped, nearly falling, then caught her breath as she saw the car, dented by the heavy clubs, the windows shattered to let in the rain. The tires were smashed and deflated.
“I'm sorry,” said Laura, stunned, knowing that she had brought them her to this. She stood in the rain…then heard Jack calling her name, faraway on the wind…
THE DARK HOUSE
was flanked on one side by the neat rows of Colonials and ranches that was Ridge Hills; on the other, tall thick trees and scrub pine stretched back as far as the eye could see, widening into acres of forest. The house seemed to brood behind the gray slats of its shutters as though sullenly resisting the twentieth century. Laura felt an emptiness inside her as they drove up to the house. How could she live here -- how could this place ever be home? It was too much for her; it was everything that she hated. She could feel her marriage dissolving in bitterness about her, and felt it was all the fault of the house. No, this was not a place for happiness. The house was like a mausoleum, fit only for the dead past. Would it be the place of Laura's death too?
THE SPOILS OF LOVE
They heard a crash against the howl of the wind and the drive of the rain; then it came again, breaking glass. Now they could hear a thumping, like heavy clubs, and the crash of metal.
Harry said, “My car.”
Marge looked terrified. “What?”
Harry ran to the front door, followed by Laura, Marge behind her. The rain whipped in, out of the blackness.
“They got my car!” yelled Harry. Laura slipped, nearly falling, then caught her breath as she saw the car, dented by the heavy clubs, the windows shattered to let in the rain. The tires were smashed and deflated.
“I'm sorry,” said Laura, stunned, knowing that she had brought them her to this. She stood in the rain…then heard Jack calling her name, faraway on the wind…