Dont go out, children
Where have you been off to? Mother asked, eyes wide as she watched Ethel tumble back from her walk.
Ethel stared at the mirror. A cobweb clung to her hair. She peeled off her jeans, and an acorn slipped out of a pocket. She snatched it up and hurried to her bedroom, tucking the nut beneath her pillow.
Off to wash up, dearDads due home any minute, and well be having supper! Mother called from the kitchen.
Ethel plunged into the bathroom, appetite gone.
On my phonebad; out walkingbad again, she thought gloomily.
Her mother, hearing the remark, shouted from the galley, If you stroll politely, you wont get caught in a web!
Ethel filled the tub, added bubbles, and sighed. The thought was rightwandering the streets alone was dull, especially after shed overheard two older women in the shop queue.
Mrs. Whitaker, they say something strange is happening in THAT house again! one whispered, her voice low and conspiratorial.
Ethel didnt catch the reply; a cashier rang up her groceries and handed her a receipt, then said to the woman behind her, We should call the police!
Police? What could they do about a spooky house? a voice behind Ethel scoffed.
She packed her purchases into a bag and left the shop. On the doorstep she saw the two women gesturing wildly, arguing about the same mystery. Ethel rolled her eyesspooky house in the twentyfirst century, really? She brushed the chatter from her mind.
That evening she stepped out onto the balcony of her newly built terrace house. The neighbouring fivestorey blocks, a couple of decades old, housed a small convenience store where the old ladies liked to gossip. The area around Ethels home was still under development, but her windows faced a line of mature trees, and the roar of construction on the nearby tower was barely audible.
A few years ago the plot had been slated for a park, then replanned for housing. Some trees were felled for flats, including the tower where Ethels parents now lived; the remaining poplars formed a green barrier between the new flats and a cluster of very old cottages that were being preserved for their historic value. Those cottages were fenced off and left untouched.
From her balcony Ethel could just make out the rooftops of the ancient cottages. Could that have been an old manor before the war? she mused.
She recalled the shop gossip: Probably the same place where the strange thing lives! she laughed to herself. Spirits dont move into highrise apartments.
The first specter that sprang to mind was a witch from fairy tales. She imagined a broom perched on a roof and giggled.
Ethel, dinners ready! Mother called.
After eating, she watched a film and chatted with her father. Later she argued with her parents about school. They wanted to move her to the nearby primary so she wouldnt have such a long commute. Ethel wanted to stay at her old school where all her friends were; she hated the idea of being the only girl wandering alone in the summer.
The new school will have friends, and youll get to sleep in later, Mother reasoned, but Ethels protests finally wore her out and she was sent to bed with a promise that theyd think it over.
Before falling asleep she slipped back onto the balcony, gazing at the dark silhouettes of the trees. A faint glint caught her eyeonce, twice, three timesin the spot where shed seen the old rooftops earlier, as if someone were signaling her. She strained to look, but the darkness thickened and the lights vanished.
Ethel, time for bed! her mother called.
Im going, Ethel replied, lingering a few minutes longer, though she saw nothing.
The next morning she awoke to an empty house; her parents had already left for work. Another long day, she sighed. Visiting friends was out of the questioneveryone was away at the seaside or with grandparents, and the move meant she was stuck alone.
She frowned, finished breakfast, and stepped onto the balcony, wondering what to do. The old flats no longer interested her, and the newly paved streets were still a distance away. Then the shop conversation resurfaced in her mind: Spirits, eh? She thought about the old cottage again.
Driven by boredom, she pulled on her jeans, dug out her battered trainers, and, almost dancing, slipped down the stairs to the twentieth floor. The lift was out of order, but that didnt deter her. She sprinted out of the building and raced toward the trees.
Youre off somewhere, little miss? a voice called.
She turned. Standing behind her was an old woman, bent like a witch from the tales.
Ethel froze, then shook her head, watching the womans face seem to grow younger before her eyes. Should listen to fewer old ladies in the shop, she thought.
Where are you heading? the woman asked again.
Just a walk, Ethel replied sharply, and why not?
Her parents always warned her not to talk to strangers, fearing they might be led away. At five, she wasnt exactly a kidnapvictim, but she was always wary of newcomers.
Fine, just dont get lost, the woman warned, tilting her head.
What do you mean by miss? Ethel wondered.
I wont get lost, she answered, and marched down a narrow path.
The womans gaze lingered on Ethel, a small smile playing on her lips. After five metres, the path disappeared behind a wall of trees. Ethel turned backno one was there. She shook her head and kept walking.
The trees tightly enclosed her, unlike the orderly rows shed seen from her balcony. The path ahead seemed to thin, as if no one had trod it for years.
A massive fallen trunk blocked her wayan enormous baobablike stump. She tried to climb over, but thick brambles rose on both sides, forming an almost impenetrable hedge.
Turn back? a voice seemed to echo in her mind, urging her to retreat.
No more! Ethel shouted. I dont believe in ghosts, day or night.
She lay flat, inching under the lowhanging branches, and for a moment thought she was stuck. She burst free, brushed leaves from her clothes, and heard a familiar, exasperated tone: Persistent little girl
She looked up to see the same old woman, now accompanied by a gigantic black cat, its fur sleek and eyes glowing.
Ethel blinked. The cat stared at her with a haughty expression.
Hello, she stammered, bewildered.
The cat let out a low growl, Persistent.
Ethel rubbed her eyes again. Cats dont speakthis was a storybook moment.
The woman smirked, as if amused by the girls disbelief. The cat padded forward, its size dwarfing any ordinary house cat, more like a massive Maine Coon without the tufted ears. It raised its massive paws, bared its teeth, and hissed.
Ethel, surprisingly calm, reached out and patted the cats head. The animal flinched, then swished its tail.
Scary? it asked, voice surprisingly gentle.
No. Ethel shook her head.
The cat glanced at the woman, who shrugged. The cat leapt onto a nearby tree, clawing at the bark furiously. It seemed angry.
Dont be angry, Ethel said, I havent done anything wrong.
The cat stopped, looked at her with a hint of disappointment, then muttered, Not scared at all?
Ethel giggled. Not a drop of fear! she declared.
The cats ears twitched, then it softened, rubbing its head against her. Good girl, it purred.
May I scratch your neck? the cat asked with a grin.
Ethel obliged, and the cats purrs filled the clearing.
Lets go, the cat announced, nudging her toward a narrow trail that suddenly widened.
Ahead, a low fence of massive timber logs rose, five metres tall, points sharp at the top.
Looks like a castle, Ethel mused.
Filming a movie? she asked the cat.
The cat snorted, Bored. Move along.
It slipped through a gap between the logs; Ethel followed, and the logs reappeared behind her. She touched one; it was a solid oak trunk. Near the base lay another acorn. She slipped it into her pocket.
Where do we go? she asked, puzzled.
The cat, eyes twinkling, replied, Right this way.
The courtyard they entered was dim, as if evening had settled early. A tall porch loomed, and the cat pushed open a heavy door, flooding the space with bright light.
Beyond the doorway stood a single wooden plank, intricately carved, forming a doorway unlike any Ethel had ever seen. She stepped through and found herself in a spacious room.
Bedroom, a voice whispered in her mind.
The room glowed softly, though no lamps hung. Wooden walls, a sturdy table, and benches surrounded it, all adorned with delicate carvings. Tall candlesticks flickered with dozens of candles.
A short, bearded old man appeared, eyes kind.
Do you like it, little miss? he asked.
Its wonderful! Ethel exclaimed.
The cat, perched on a bench, chimed, Shes not lying.
The old man nodded. She isnt.
Ethel sat at the table, which soon filled with plates of unfamiliar pastries and steaming cups. She tasted a slice of a berryfilled pie; it was delicious. The cat, however, devoured an entire tart in one gulp.
More? the cat offered, but Ethel shook her head.
She finished her bite, feeling fully satisfied.
Can I have a kitten? she finally said, remembering the pet shed always wanted.
The old man smiled, A kitten, you say? No need for jewels or exotic gifts?
Ethel laughed, Just a kitten, please.
He waved his hand, and the cat leapt onto the table, rubbing against her cheek.
Off you go, the cat said, nudging her toward the door.
She stepped back out onto a sunlit path, the trees parting to reveal her own house in the distance. The cat vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her alone but for the lingering taste of the sweet drink shed sipped.
She reached into her pocket, feeling the smooth acorn, and slipped it out.
Later, a knock sounded at her front door. She rushed from the bathroom, hair dripping, and wrapped a towel around herself.
Dads home! she cheered.
Her father entered, holding a tiny orange kitten, its fur as bright as autumn leaves.
This is your new friend, he said, smiling.
Ethel named him Bailey. She spent the evening cradling the kitten, feeding it, and listening to its soft purrs. When bedtime came, the kitten curled onto her pillow and purred loudly.
Goodnight, sweetheart, her mother whispered as she closed the door.
The kittens gentle rumble echoed through the room, lulling Ethel to sleep.
In a halfdream she heard a faint voice: Never lose the acorn of curiosity.
She smiled, realizing that the days strange adventures had taught her one thing: **a brave heart and an open mind turn every ordinary walk into a journey of wonder, and curiosity is the seed that grows into every new discovery.**
