Edge of the Ravine

3

Chapter Three

Amelia Winthrope was a gnarled old lady that looked as if she were formed of tree roots. In her youth, she might have been tall and statuesque like an oak. Now. However, her limbs were long and thin, her back twisted to where she was constantly bent over, and her skin had an aged leather look that made me shy when she went to touch me. When she laid first eyes on me, I felt stripped straight to the soul. Her beady black eyes bored into mine and laid my whole life bare.

"This is him?" My great-aunt inquired of the Hadley, who had accompanied me the entire way. Had it been anyone else, I might have announced to her exactly who I was. But those small, dark eyes landed on mine once more and I couldn't utter a sound.

"Yes. This is Oliver Hart, your late sister's grandson."

Amelia waved that away, sniffing in a perturbed voice, "I know very well who he is. Sister of mine couldn't shut up about the boy for the eight months she was alive to see him." Even Hadley Moore had nothing to say to that. Turning to me, Amelia then instructed, "well? Grab your belongings and let's be off. We've a 1:30 train to catch and we must not be late."

From that point on, I would sit beside Amelia Winthrope on an old train that even seemed quiet in her presence. And exactly three hours later, we got off a tiny station that was more used to receiving goods than people. Great-aunt Amelia bothered not to speak to anyone as I trailed in her wake to a rusty blue station wagon that had been parked there since this morning.

After loading my belongings, and minutes that dragged on as Amelia tried to start the car, we were finally on our way to my new home. A rickety little house with aged shingle siding that sat in the middle of a shallow bowl of a valley. Hills rose up on all sides and even mountains could be seen out behind it. They were walls of rock that would help to contain me. Smother me. Imprison me.