She waited for the click and whir of his camera to stop, and now it had stopped, but for how long. Maybe she had dozed off, though that didn't seem likely, for if she had dozed off she would have dropped that silly old fashioned gas lantern that he had given her to hold. Now where did he go?
She picked up her cloak, it was the deepest forest green, and it was the only clothing she'd worn, that and a pair of slippers. Strange slippers, they looked very prim but they had tough soles, good for walking out here. Now where the hell did he go? She'd kept her eyes shut tight and had heard the click and whir, for awhile he went behind a wall, behind a thick door. He had many strange cameras. She'd seen him stuffing a tube like thing in a hole drilled into a large wooden door. He said it was camera. Like the kind they use for surgery. What did she care?
She put on her robe and pulled it tight. It was twilight, mid-autumn. She felt aroused as she lay on that rough pile of twigs he had made for her, like a bird's nest. She always felt aroused when they took pictures, that's why she did it. The clicks and whirs stopped and there went her libido. It was okay. Being aroused with her eyes shut was enough, she didn't need to act on it. She stopped acting on it years ago. Now she'll just let them take pictures, and pay her and that's enough. Strictly the artsy things, nothing tasteless.
She looked down at the muddy ground, she tried to find some patterns in his foot prints. They were easy to spot, very large and missing one of the treads in the heal. A blank spot. They played a circle around her nest, the footprints weaved in and out, like a basket or, a crown of thorns. She saw where the footprints broke away and headed toward the door. She tried the door but it would not open. She banged on the door.
"Marcel?"
She stood on her toes and looked through the peep hole drilled towards the top of the door. She could not see anything at all. She put her ear to the door. She could not hear anything at all. She tugged at it again. The wood was cold and as she put her palms to it she felt the sharp pain of a splinter. She walked out of the shadow of the barn but the sun was too low to provide any heat, and it was getting colder. She sat next to the little gas lamp and examined her hand. The splinter was large enough to grasp, wedged in there between two fingers, her middle and ring fingers. She yanked it and tossed it aside.
"Marcel?"
It was getting dark, she looked about at the foot prints again. Ah ha, she saw his prints leading pack up the path, stepping on the same set that brought them here. About twenty-five yards up the path was a fork. His steps headed up the grade toward the waterfall as opposed to the Inn from whence they had come.
This little walk up the road was just enough to get her blood flowing, she was beginning to warm up fast. The breeze was so slight she barely noticed it kissing her cheek. She picked up the pace and was moving just shy of a jog.
"Marcel?"
It's strange that she was able to fall asleep like that, in her aroused state of mind, on a pile of twigs. They'd only had a couple glasses of sherry back at the Inn. She felt so relaxed around Marcel though. Who who else could be relaxed and excited like her? She pulled on her hood. She began to hear the waterfall. It could be heard all the way to the barn but it was so constant and unwavering it went undetected like the wind.
Her lamp was sputtering a little. It wouldn't last much longer. She couldn't remember if Marcel had brought another torch. She lowered the lamp to make sure his footsteps were still visible, they were. The waterfall lay just ahead. She hadn't come this close to it since she was a little girl. Once they found that body in the pool, only the morbid children ever returned. She followed the path to the right, it gained elevation and the pool was now about twenty feet below her, the falls landing thirty or so feet beyond.
It was strange, up ahead she saw a small wooden bridge. That was where the path used to drop off into nothing. This little suspension bridge looked as if it headed straight into the falls, about halfway between the top and the bottom. His footprints continued right to the bridge and there were even a few wet marks on the first planks before all the planks were sprayed and his prints disappeared. She continued on, for this now felt like a dream. Who would have built such a bridge? She'd never seen such a thing.
The air felt about ten degrees cooler now. The bridge barely swayed under her weight, she tested each board as she went along but the whole thing seemed quite sturdy.
"Marcel?"
It was ridiculous to call out, now the falls were deafening, yet magnetic. She was nearly there and had to hang on, the force of the water caused her to grip the guide ropes tighter. Her cloak blew open but she refused to let go of the ropes. Something shimmered behind the flat surface of the waterfall. As she moved closer it became calm. The force had been from below, where the falls hit the pool. She was past that now. The water before her was like a mirror, sheer and thin,and the bridge continued right through it. She could see it on the other side, and it looked like someone was standing in the middle of it. Or was it a mirror and she was seeing herself?
"Marcel?"
She stopped and stood motionless. The shadowy figure behind the falls beckoned her onward. She pushed through the water, quickly. She felt baptized. And with great relief it was Marcel on the other side of the liquid veil.
"What is this place?"
"It's marvelous. I must admit I almost turned around, that bridge had me so frightened," he said.
She looked around. She was now off the bridge and on the floor of a spacious cavern, which shimmered in torch light. Torches, of the non-battery operated variety, hung on the walls with six inch flames burning steady. She pulled her robe close and tight, and suddenly for the first time since she awoke down by the barn felt fear.
"Marcel, who else is here? What is this place?"
"I don't know. It is marvelous though, I was just headed down to come and find you."
"Why did you wander off without me?"
"Oh, you were sleeping, that's all."
"Naked, on a pile of twigs, holding a gas lamp. Thanks."
He shrugged, he was looking around smiling, not listening.
"I just felt something, did you not feel it? The magnetism? Like a silent song of an invisible siren."
"Sirens kill, Marcel. I'd like to get out of here. This is, oh don't you remember, they found a body down there when I was a little girl. Please, let's get out of here."
