It was horribly hot and stuffy in that room. Outside, I could hear the wind rustling the leaves, but not enough of it came in to cool us off, only enough to hint that it was cool out there, and would be in here if only we could open the windows wide. Wistfully, I sighed, longing for fresh air. Hadn't Momma told us mountain nights, even in the summertime, were always cool? And this was summertime and it wasn't cool with the windows down.

In the rosy darkness, Chris whispered my name. "What are you thinking?"

"About the wind. It sounds like a wolf."

"I knew you'd be thinking something cheery like that. Gosh, if you aren't the one to take the cake for depressing thoughts."

"I've got another goodie--whispering winds like dead souls trying to tell us something."

He groaned. "Now you listen to me, Catherine Doll (the stage name I planned to use one day), I order you not to lie there and think your kind of scary thoughts. We will take each hour as it comes, and never pause to think ahead to the next one, and by using this method, it will be much easier than thinking in terms of days and weeks Think about music, about dancing, singing. Haven't I heard you say you never feel sad when music is dancing in your head?"

"What will you think about?"

"If I were less sleepy, I would pour out ten volumes of thoughts, but as it is, I'm too tired to answer. And you know my goal, anyway. As for now, I'll just think of the games we'll have time to play." He yawned, stretched, and smiled over at me. "What did you think of all that talk about half-uncles marrying half-nieces, and creating children with hooves, tails, and horns?"

"As a seeker of all knowledge, and a future doctor, is it medically, scientifically possible?"

"Nope!" he answered, as if well-educated on the subject. "If so, the world would abound in freaks resembling devils and to tell you the truth, I would like to see a devil, just once."

"I see them all the time, in my dreams."

"Hah!" he scoffed. "You and your crazy dreams. Weren't the twins something, though? I was really rather proud of them when they faced up to that giant grandmother so defiantly. Gosh, they got spunk. But then I was afraid she'd really do something awful."

"What she did wasn't awful? She picked Carrie up by her hair. That must have hurt. And she slapped Cory and sent him reeling, and that must have hurt. What more did you want?"

"She could have done worse."

"I think she's crazy herself."

"You may be right," he mumbled sleepily.

"The twins are only babies. Cory was only protecting Carrie--you know how he is about her, and she is about him." I hesitated. "Chris, did our mother and father do right by falling in love? Couldn't they have done something to stop it?"

"I don't know. Let's not talk about that; it makes me feel uneasy."

"Me, too. But I guess that explains why we all have blue eyes and blond hair."

"Yeah," he yawned, "the Dresden dolls; that's us."

"You're right. I've always wanted to play games all day long. And just think, when our mother does bring us that new deluxe Monopoly game, we will at last have time to finish a game." For we had never finished a game. "And Chris, the silver ballerina slippers are to be mine "

"Right," he murmured, "and I'll take the top hat, or the racing car."

"The top hat, please."

"Right. Sorry, I forgot. And we can teach the twins to be bankers and count out the money."

"First we'll have to teach them to count."

"That will be no trick at all, for Foxworths know all about money."

"We are not Foxworths!"

"Then what are we?"

"Dollangangers! That's who!"

"Okay, have it your way." And again he said good night.


Tags: V.C. Andrews Dollanganger Horror