Black Feather

         

Ethan stood at the counter staring out the window into the night as his hands methodically cleaned the dishes. The plates and bowls clanked against the porcelain of the large apron sink as he scrubbed, nearly scalding his hands in the hot water. The trees outside, black and twisted in the moonlight, were devoid of leaves and writhing around at the mercy of the wind.

"It's getting pretty dreadful out there," he said to his sister, who leaned over the kitchen table scrubbing and wiping it clean. "We ought to go around and close up the windows, it's quite cold."

"Of course." Lilly replied. She was always quiet, always lost in thought. Though she was helpful and kind to her brother, she was always brooding over the loss of their parents. Ethan knew this and tried not to pry. Everyone had to cope in their own way.

Lilly moved through the house, checking windows, shutting doors to other rooms. The house creaked and groaned under the force of the wind from time to time, it truly was dreadful outside. Ethan could hear Lilly make her way upstairs, the sound of the floor boards under her feet were unmistakeable. He finished up with the dishes, wiping his hands on an old rag and tossing it over the lip of the sink. He stood, hands on his hips, and observed for a moment. The house was so quiet, even in the storm that howled outside. It's white walls and wainscoting were weathered, the wooden floors old and worn, the lamps and lights dim and flickering. It wasn't the same without their parents there, the entire mood had shifted, it's as if the house had died along with them.

A loud thud upstairs shook the room, sending down a puff of dust and plaster from the aging ceiling that Ethan batted out of his face with the wave of a hand.

"Lilly! Everything alright up there?" He shouted toward the stairs.

"I'm fine. Why?"

Ethan was startled to look over and see his sister standing in the doorway leading out of the kitchen into the living room.

"Were you not just upstairs? Shutting the windows?" He was perplexed.

"No... I've been down here checking the Garden Room." She gave him a curious look. Ethan's brow furrowed, uncertain of what to say. He shrugged it off, "Must've been the wind."

Lilly rolled her eyes as she turned back into the other room to finish what she was doing and Ethan watched as she drifted off into the shadow of the unlit room.

"I'm going to light the furnace in the cellar, it's getting far too cold even with the windows all shut!" He shouted after her. He heard some sort of grumble in response and turned to the pantry door in the kitchen. The knob was cold and stiff as he struggled with it. After a bit of fidgeting it clicked and the door popped open and slowly swung outward, allowing Ethan to step in to the dank little room. The shelves were dusty and empty but for a few old cans and some wilted, dried up carrots. He didn't like going in here anymore, Lilly and him kept all they needed in the cupboards. It was rare that they had to enter the pantry. The trapdoor to the cellar was situated on the floor at the back of the pantry. Ethan knelt down beside it, brushing a single black feather away from the latch as he reached to open it. Odd, he thought, but carried on.

The door crackled as it popped open, releasing a puff of stale air. Ethan groaned at the moldy taste and covered his face before lifting the door the rest of the way, leaning it up against the wall. It was dark. And damp. And cold. A faint amount of moonlight was coming in through the cracked and dusty cellar windows that lined the upper portion of the walls, not quite enough to safely navigate the cluttered area. An old lantern hung on a pillar at the base of the stairs leading down from the pantry. Ethan cautiously approached it, pulling a book of matches from his pocket. He reached out, and upon touching the lantern his hand shot back to his side... it was warm. Not so warm that it burned, but enough that it startled Ethan. Warm enough to seem as though it had recently been used, but neither Ethan nor his sister had been in the cellar in weeks. They normally used the fireplace in the Sitting Room on cold nights - it had to really be chilly for Ethan to venture down and light up the furnace.

He very slowly reached out again for the lantern. His cold fingers extended toward the lantern, testing the temperature nervously... only to find, to his surprise, that the lantern was cold. As cold as it should be, hanging down here in the icy darkness of the cellar. His brow furrowed again, his face contorting in confusion.He plucked the lantern off it's hook and struck a match to light it. The cold draft in the cellar doused the first flame, but his second attempt had the lantern glowing. He eyed it suspiciously, watching the flame dance in it's glass cage. The room lit up with warm amber light and a faint sense of warmth splashed against the walls and pillars, leaving columns of cold shadows dancing in the flickering light. The furnace sat ominously at the far end of the cellar, hulking and black and older than the house itself. Ethan approached it slowly, being careful not to knock over the buckets and tools scattered about the cellar. A pile of dusty old wood sat off to the side, Ethan cringed at the thought of picking through the lumber, it was probably crawling with all sorts of nasty things. He lay the lantern on the floor just behind him so that it would cast its light across his area of work. The pile of wood splintered and cracked as he pulled cut after cut from it, each piece trailing with wretched cob webs and dust. He cringed with every effort to move them. Before long he had a decent sized pile ready to toss into the furnace. At least enough to last through the night. He turned to his left now, reaching for the iron hinge of the furnace door, but paused as his hand made it to the latch. Scattered about the floor in front of the furnace door were a number of clean, black feathers. Reaching down to investigate, he picked one up, twirling it in the lamp light. How curious, he thought.