The Witch of Marshallville

Into the Woods to Find the Thing

Despite being out a bit later than expected the night before, Rosie was again up early the next morning, starting her day in much the same way. Drinking coffee on the deck as she took in the view. She had really enjoyed herself last night. It was good to catch up with everyone, but she couldn't help but make a mental note to try to spend more time with Clay and Becca before she left.

She then found herself looking off towards Witch's Point again. Shaking her head, Rosie turned and went back inside, stopping to check her messages before sending off a few quick replies to a couple of friends back in Kansas City and then putting it aside. Best to get ready and get to work. Her grandmother certainly did have a lot of stuff to go through. And if she wanted to have any hope of potentially renting the place out on Airbnb in order to keep it, she'd need to take care of all of that before she went back to Kansas City.

After showering and eating breakfast, Rosie found herself standing in the doorway to her grandmother's bedroom. She figured if she started here and got the worst of it out of the way initially, everything else would happen much faster. Like a bandaid. Just rip it off and deal with the pain.

But standing there, she felt tears prick her eyes.

The bed was made, yet another quilt made by either her grandmother or her great-grandmother lying on top. A framed photo of her grandmother and grandfather on their wedding day was on the nightstand. She then looked over at the vanity against the wall across from the bed, seeing various bottles of cosmetics or perfume along with a jewelry box.

Rosie closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of wood, leaves, and the floral perfume that her grandmother always wore - she was never able to pinpoint just which flower it was. She then opened her eyes and took a step inside. She wasn't sure where to start but found herself going to the vanity.

Sitting down, Rosie lightly ran her hand over the various objects, each conjuring a clear and distinct memory. A few photos were tacked to the mirror - most of her and her mother at various ages. There were also some older black and white ones. Rosie's eyes fell on one of her grandparents - they had to be in their 20s - next to each other as they leaned against a truck. Her grandfather's arm was around her grandmother's waist, though her thumbs were hooked in the belt loops of the jeans she was wearing. Her long, thick hair was pulled up in a ponytail, a kerchief tied around it. She was grinning at the camera, her eyes twinkling even through the old photograph.

Automatically, the tears started again, but Rosie attempted to swallow them. Even if she was alone, she had a job to do.

So Rosie took another deep breath and started opening drawers, looking through them to see what should be tossed and what could be kept. Most of the makeup she'd throw away, though it wasn't as though her grandmother had a lot. The jewelry she would keep. She wasn't sure if she'd ever wear it or what to do with it, but she couldn't stand the idea of giving it away or selling it.

She then opened the bottom drawer of the vanity, frowning as she saw a thick, leather-bound book. Rosie cautiously reached down and pulled it out, opening it. A loose page sat neatly at the front of the book.

To my dearest Rosie...

Rosie's eyes widened as she looked over the familiar handwriting. Her grandmother had written a journal for her. She bent over, the tears blurring her sight so much that she couldn't read. After a few moments, she got herself under control and looked back at the page again.

To my dearest Rosie,
The words in this journal I should have told you in person. Much sooner than now. But I was unsure how you - or your mother - would take it. But if you are reading this, I'm gone or unable to tell you myself.