Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Part One - Keewaydin

Alex saw the shiny copper coin sticking out from a crack in the wide slatted flooring. A 1909 Indianhead Penny. Not in mint condition. He fingered it gently, then placed on the mantle. Another little oddity in a house filled with little oddities.
Alex and his wife had bought the aging house years ago for its lakefront property, and the house had a certain “New England Seaside” quality... or what they envisioned that would be like. It was rustic and charming, with lakeviews... but it was in need of constant repair.
It was a perfect house for a sailor. I had a private dock and storage on the Minnetonka lakefront. Many of the previous owners had sailed out onto Lake Minnetonka over to Wayzata Bay to join the caucauphony of sails. On a lovely evening the boats are a pretty sight. The sails seemed like white butterflies.
Alex did not sail. He kept a 20ft. inboard/outboard Crisscraft in storage. This year it would remain in storage, and the dock would only accommodate some weekend fishing.

He stood at the top of the staircase and peered out a small window across the Lake. A previous owner of the house had died on the Lake on a Friday after work. He had gone out sailing alone on a breezy evening, and the boom from the mast swung around striking him in the head. He fell into the water and was drown. His body and boat were found shortly after, floating in Robinson Bay.
This was some time, and a couple of owners ago... in the seventies. That is about all he really knew about the incident. The house went up for sale and news owners moved in quickly.

He always thought that if his lake house were to be haunted, it would be by this past hapless owner, but that was not the case.

He walked down the stairs and got himself a cup of coffee from the kitchen. He tooked a first strong gulp. Looking out a street-facing window he could see the newspaper had been delivered. An occasional runner passed, making the loop that naturally occurred when running the local streets on this penninsula.
As he looked out he noticed a car cruised slowly by, taking inventory of the neighborhood. It looked like an old Monte Carlo. From the passenger’s side a young blond girl pressed her face to the window and stared with eyes wide opened. She motioned her hands in front of her emphatically for the driver to stop-right-here!
The car stopped.
The door opened, and to Alex’ surprize the young girl ran up his front walk to his front door and rang his doorbell.
He walked to the door and opened it to find a pretty young girl, 9 or 10 years old, standing there solemnly with her arms folded in front of her.
“You do not know me but...” she began quietly as if reciting a speach. Alex interuppted her. He was quite startled.
“Oh yes, I do know you...” He blurted out. “You are the young girl that haunts this house!”
At this she looked up, turned, and ran back to the car. The Monte Carlo briskly drove away.
Alex stood there in motionless amazement.


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