Timeless Creations

4. Mystery

On the plane Chris was flying in style. First class all the way. He fell asleep with ease in his comfortable recliner and had no dreams whatsoever.... or any that he remembered.

When he woke up the flight attendants were asking everyone to buckle up as they were about to land.
A bumpy touchdown followed and Chris walked to baggage claim at O.R. Tambo International Airport. Bags rolling behind him he walked through a set of sliding doors.

As he emerged into the harsh light Chris saw countless signs with names but one stuck out at him. A luminescent, meter-by-meter sign that shone the words Mr Chris Woolfe and
Marcus Pieterse.

Reluctantly Chris walked towards the well-built, well-tanned, relatively tall man holding the sign. With a heavy South African accent the man spoke to Chris: "Hello Mister Woolfe. I am your driver Xolani but you can call me "X"."

Failing to realise what Xolani was trying to tell Chris about most people's inability to pronounce the click in his name Chris greeted Xolani as if the X in his name was a K. Making it almost sound like he said Kolani.

"Hello Kolani. I assume you are here to pick me up and take me to Mr. Pieterse"

With a chuckle Xolani replied:" Please Mr Woolfe. It's just "X". And yes. Mr. Pieterse is most excited to meet you."

"Ah okay then X. And then you must call me Chris. "

"Yes Mr. Chris. Let's go shall we?"

With a sigh Chris walked through and out the airport into one of the fanciest limousines he had ever seen. More and more questions arose suddenly.

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When Chris got to the mansion, it was nothing like he had imagined. He expected a massive house with pillars and long stretches of gardens. He expected two large wooden doors on the front porch with golden door handles. Chris was expecting French windows at great heights.

What he saw was different. Way different. No long gardens but rather forests on both sides of the dirt road. The house was one story but impossibly wide...at least 4 football fields wide. No French windows. Or any windows at all. The house was covered in creepers and vines. It gave him chills down to his toes.

Chris walked gingerly into the house. He pushed the doorbell and a "blender-like" noise came out. Mr Pieterse greeted Chris in a white tuxedo which made him look like James Bond.

His muscles caused the tailored suit to ripple everytime he moved. He had long locks of blonde hair flowing with the wind. His pearls for teeth glistened in the sunlight.

"Welcome to my humble house. It may not look like much from the outside but the inside will be magnificent. Or maybe not. You'll see what I mean" said Marcus with his raspy voice.

Even more confused Chris walked into the house and immediately realised what Marcus was talking about. There were deer heads up on every wall. Bear skin rugs down on one floor. In the TV room there was a mini cinema. Going through to the kitchen there was state-of-the-art equipment.

Then there was the library. Almost every part of the room (except the floor and ceiling) had books. But not any books. Books on dragons, fairies, unicorns and other mythical creatures. And then there were books on love, happiness, human emotion.

Suddenly a silky smooth feminine voice broke Chris out of his trance. "Hello there. Do you like my collection?"

As he turned he saw a woman with a body that supermodels would be jealous of. Her face radiated beauty. Suddenly he felt weak at the knees as a feeble "I love it" escaped his lips.