Chapter 1

Rumors are a funny business.

Nobody ever knew where they actually start and how many times the basic facts are changed by the ears and mouth of the hearer of the story.

Upper Granville was a place where rumors had been the principle method of spreading the news about important happenings for a very long time. The system was both familiar and well-respected to the old-timers living in Upper Granville. Some of the newly arrived in the area were not happy about the lack of a dependable newspaper to inform the citizenry of important events that had taken place or were about to take place in the normally quiet and serene rural setting.

Those recalcitrant newcomers were deemed troublemakers and ignored by the rank and file.

The major industries of the quiet little village on the edge of the more progressive urban center and suburban strip areas were agricultural, of course, and the making of fine furniture. Some of the oldest families in Upper Granville were involved in the furniture making trade and had been for several generations. The most famous furniture maker, "The Granville Furniture Company" was at the forefront of the pack for over a hundred years until the entire affair was burned down in the terrible blaze of "04" actually, 1904 to be more exact. The craftsmen resident in and around Upper Granville were fortunate to be on the river that carried the logs from the forest tracts right into their well-maintained lumber mill that produced the wood products needed to create furniture masterpieces. I should hasten to add that there is no Lower Granville or even a Granville itself because the entire collection of habitation melded together over time without rhyme or reason and took the name of Upper Granville because it just sounded more genteel.

The only Granville left in the village now was Granny Granville who was reputed to have practiced some sort of witchcraft in her early years after graduating from the distant University that awarded her a degree in English Literature. The glory days of furniture making had lost their glow now what with the import of cheap but functional products from Asia and Eastern Europe.

The long entranceway into Granny Granville's estate was lined with various farming implements and a particularly impressive straw figure sitting high on a cross tree hacked from virgin wood. It was difficult to tell if the figure was male or female but the feminine hat and the long fingernails made of an undetermined material indicated it was intended to be of the female persuasion. Some folks said,

"That's Granny Granville's sister up there. She annoyed old Granny when she stole her gentleman away just because she liked to be as bad as any female can ever manage."

It was true that the straw figure up on the cross resembled old Granny more than most folks would like to speculate. The children passing on their way to school sort of ran by the thing and never looked up because their parents told them if the horrible thing ever caught any unsuspecting soul's eye it would switch places with him or her and they would have to spend the remainder of their days looking down in agony.

Bonnie Knightley was considered to be a problem child. At least, that is what her teachers and the minister down at the Abbey wrote in their diaries monitoring such things in the eventuality of some future dire happening. If the truth be known, young eighteen year old Bonnie was a bit of a dreamer and not prone to listening to silly rumors or whispers behind her back. In fact, her family was resident in the valley long before the first Granville ever showed up with their notions of starting the first furniture factory. The Knightley's were farming folk and keep to the old ways as many in the district were wont to do.

The young girl was fair of face and figure but the young lads kept their distance because it was said,

"She's got the evil eye!"

In retrospect, it was probably just the jealous accusations of a less attractive schoolmate seeking to remove competition before she gained a foothold scouting about in the meager fold of handsome male bachelors. Whatever the initial reason, Bonnie was outside the circle of "normal" society in the scattered environs and cared not a whit about what others thought about her. She was caught up in the reading of dubious compositions of a licentious nature thought to be an instrument of the Devil. The silly females with their focus on matters well below their waistline would stare at her and chant with mean-spirited intent,

"Satan is a-waitin for you!"

The young girl just shrugged off their animosity and went about her business with little concern about their meddlesome ways.

Bonnie was disturbed from her reading activities to deliver a basket of fresh brown eggs to Granny Granville's mansion at the specific instruction from her impoverished mother who sold her wares to anyone with coins regardless of their lineage or reputation. She didn't overly mind the distraction because it would allow her to mingle with the young stable hands that were mostly from an outside manor. Her youth and good looks were more appreciated by males with little knowledge or concern about her reputation for connections to the prince of darkness.

The straw woman looked down and saw the light-footed approach of a young girl with the look of an unsuspecting disciple. She had been relegated to the watch for so long that it was difficult to recall the original purpose of her sentinel duty. Her disgustingly determined sister had cast her into the realm of disregard like a sack of kittens into a stream of running water. She tried to remember her incantations but they escaped her wandering thoughts. She had been far too long in this land of the living dead.

The girl was coming closer now.

"Oh, magnificent one, fill your unworthy servant with the spell of transmutation and allow my escape from this desolate existence. I will be your tool in recruiting new followers to do your bidding at every opportunity. Please give me one last chance!"

Bonnie paused briefly under the shadow of the hanging straw woman. For some unavoidable reason, she looked up into the straw woman's featureless face with the strong winter sun acting as a halo about the obscene eclipse.