Quickly, she latches onto the key, rushes out of the cave, repacks the bag, and starts her descent down the rocky edge of the cave. It looks more like a cliff, so she takes her time, carefully selecting each step. With ease she makes it to the bottom of the cliff and rushes to the tiny, tan cottage.
Up close she can see it better. There is marsh growing along it’s archaic roof and lush green weeping willow trees hang over it, almost mourning over its unkempt state. There is a sturdy brown door with a brown, glass arch over it. To the right, there are two windows visible, with naturally forming moss decorating their sills and surrounding walls. One of the windows has a uniquely molded arch, almost peering out of the roof and connecting to the rest of the house. The artistry involved in forming such an intricate decoration on the house captures Melody’s attention.
Then, on the other side of the door, a Scottish silver birch sits, protectively in front of a window, either shading it from the sun, from curious onlookers or both. But her eyes are curious. An intrigue to know what hideousness lies inside the seemingly abandoned cottage seeps into Melody’s veins. The idea of a search and discovery of whom it belonged to, what era it might have been retrieved from and engaging in a journey of exploration bubbles up within her. it’s a thirst within her that she wants to quench.
The cottage strangely fills Melody with nostalgia for the adventure books she used to read with her father; it is what she would picture in her storybooks as a child.
She tiptoes around what appears to be a little trail with overgrown moss and shrubs, and unlocks the door.
It opens.
Once inside, the cottage is an antithesis to the eery exterior. Sure, the room is dull and empty, but when she reaches under a lamp next to her, flicks the light on, it comes to life. It’s warm, it’s inviting and most surprising of all, it’s clean. Her bag plops to the ground with relief, as she embarks on her exploration.
A medium-length, tan, rectangular Persian rug with purple ombré-toned accents trails from under her bag at the entrance to a brown, leather chest, hoisting a tray and kettle like a small coffee table would. The rug is settled on shiny, wooden floors extending from the small sitting area decorated with a tan armchair and armor, to a breakfast nook and kitchen combo off to her side. She can tell it’s been recently redecorated to acquire a more modern appearance.
She admires the sitting area. A cool breeze flows in from a brick fireplace, nestled behind the chest. Three logs are snuggled together, inside, just waiting for her to light them tonight. Above the armor, a thin, turquoise willow vine is painted on the walls, stretching from the sitting room, over the fireplace, dipping into the ceiling in places, all the way into the kitchen. It’s unique and she loves how it connects the exterior of the cottage with the interior.
Following the vine, now walking towards the kitchen, Melody now sees the arch over the window and it makes sense. It’s shedding extra light into the breakfast nook and kitchen. The breakfast nook is painted gray with a turquoise table and chairs to complement. The place mats are a deep canary yellow weaved on gray bamboo strips. Beside them are mason jars for cups and a flower pot with dried, painted bark and pine cones. She can see herself sitting here with a good book and iced tea, staring into the gorgeous paintings spotted on the walls.
This place is to die for, she says, caressing the marble countertop island, separating the kitchen from the breakfast nook, then she enters the kitchen. She notices glass storage jars filled with staple grains, a large, silver fridge and other new appliances all set up and running. Then she sees a hallway behind the kitchen, leading to two open doors, which she assumes must be the bathroom and bedroom.
It’s perfect, Melody thinks to herself and she is now more confused. Why would someone shower her with all these amenities, when they could have left her for dead on the shore? If she didn’t know better she would say she was in paradise. Melody pulls out a stool from under the island and sits down, perplexed.
Will they make an appearance at some point? She wonders.
Melody has so many questions that she needs answers to, but for now, she needs her rest. After a good night’s rest, she can search the island for them. She locks the front door, grabs her clothes and goes to take a shower.
Chapter 2
Melody has spent two nights in the cottage. Already, she has gone to the back of the cottage a few times to gather more wood for the fireplace. She has not ventured out any further yet, concerned for what she might find, but she knows that she cannot wait here forever. Pretty soon she will have to search the island.
It is now morning; she sits down to eat. Adorned on her plate is a freshly made omelette and toast with jam. She found more food in the fridge and it has been keeping her alive these past couple of days. It’s no comparison for the food Morrison would be cooking for her and the other guests at the inn, but it will do for now.
She chuckles. In the two months she got to know Morrison, he has been more of a relative to her than her own father and Uncle Tobias. Carefully
