The rain lashed the worn gables of Rose Cottage. Along the weedy footpath
leading up to the door, wild irises and lilacs bowed to the cruel will of the wind that
howled around the corners of the cottage like a demon. A jagged streak of lightning
snaked its way across the sky, illuminating shrouds of brown grass huddling together in
the vast fields.
   Ruth Chrisholme sat at her window seat, absorbing the wild and stormy
 evening. She pressed her nose and fingertips against the cold glass.She drew the heavy
velvet curtains further across her back, completely shutting out the bright and noisy
atmosphere that was her beloved house. Somehow, Ruth wasn't in the mood for preparing
dinner tonight. There was something comforting in the darkness of the night, something
Ruth couldn't quite put her finger on. She had felt it since she had moved here, away
from the smoke and smog of the city.
   "Ruth."
   A deep monotone sounded behind her. Ruth sneered at her mother's lifeless
tone, and continued to focus her attention on the ongoing storm. She didn't feel like doing
any chores tonight.
   "Ruth!" This time the voice was animated and angry, and a workworn hand tore
aside the curtains. "Get out o' there and come an' help!"
   Shoulders sagging, Ruth dragged herself into the colourful room. Pinks and
oranges splashed the walls, and the stained glass lamp threw patches of greens, yellows
and blues on the floor. Rosa, the baby, screamed with all her might for attention, and
Noel  and Edward scampered around the table like wild dogs. It was all so discouraging.
Many people would see a pleasant family scene; an icon of motherhood. Ruth saw it as a
mound of work for her, for her severely depressed mother never worked a stitch.
   The magic was not all gone from Ruth's soul, and she turned back to the window
for a breath of relief. Through the fogged-up pane, Ruth saw a lantern making its way up
Cooper's hill. The lantern was attached to a carriage, Ruth saw, and that carriage was
heading toward Lenson's, the old abandoned Victorian summer house. Lenson's had been
empty for so long, that Ruth had never noticed anyone living in it, let alone any carriages
going up to it.
   Maybe it was for sale...Ruth thought quietly to herself. Then she recalled going to
explore it recently, and there were no signs then. Weird, I wonder who'd want to live in a
creepy place like that?
   Ruth had found a crawlspace through an old duct in the wall, and had gone
exploring. Inside Lenson's, there was old furniture tipped around the floor, and strange
moving shadows that seemed to change shape when you weren't looking, and loads of
dust and cobwebs. No, Lenson's was definitely unoccupied.
   Ruth glanced again at the light going slowly uphill. Maybe it's a trick of the
wind...A light reflected off our windows that's bouncin' around, from a piece of foil or a
shard of glass. The light disappeared around the back of the looming mansion. Ruth
contented herself with her light theory about the wind, and drew the curtains closed.
   The next morning was gray and overcast, and fingers of mist reached across the
vast plains to touch some unseen object. Ruth thought that they were like Rosa's pudgy
fingers, reaching to grab a toy or a piece of silverware.
   There was a beauty that seemed to float through the air with the dew, coating
everything, including Ruth. The minute she stepped out her front door into the day, she
was enveloped in a cool, happy sensation of belonging. She walked through the fields,
her basket swinging against her knee with a slap-slap noise. Every snap of every twig
under her feet punctured the air with a bang, so that the slightest noise sounded like a
bomb blowing up.
   Ruth reached the little stone pillar that she liked to sit on right at the bottom of
Cooper's hill. She set her basket at her feet, and hoisted herself up on the pillar.
Sometimes Ruth would sit like this for hours, doing nothing but staring up at the
looming shape of Lenson's, far above her head.
   Somehow, this morning, Lenson's didn't look quite so old. The porch didn't sag in
the middle, the ancient paint didn't peel so much down the rotten, weather-beaten
wallboards, and the missing roof tile was back in its proper place. It was as if the whole
house had undergone major renovations during the night. As Ruth stared in
amazement, the door to Lenson's opened, then shut with an ear-splitting bang!
   A pink shape, small at first, shot out the door and flew down the hill at a
tremendous pace. As it approached Ruth, it began to take on the larger shape of a
girl. The girl was running hard, her face buried in her hands, her blond curls cascading
wildly about her head. Every so often, she let out a tortured sob, punctuated by
heart-rending gasps that cut the silence like a sharp-edged knife.
   The girl ran past Ruth, choosing to ignore her, as if she were a piece of the
landscape. Her curiosity aroused, Ruth slid off the pillar, and began to run after the
girl. As she ran, Ruth struggled to see the girl's face. No luck, it was covered by her
delicate, manicured hands. The girl's feet kicked up little puffs of dirt as she stumbled
through the bracken, and her gauzy pink skirt seemed to float around her ankles with an
elegance that told Ruth that this girl was very rich.
   Ruth squinted ahead of her.The girls were approaching a patch of gnarled old
hawthorns. The girl tore through the bushes' reaching branches with renewed vigor.
   "Are you going to stop soon..." Ruth panted, "and give me a break here?"
   The girl stopped, and turned to face her pursuer.  Her eyes were wet and puffy,
and salty tears melted into a long, red slash down her face.
   "Ow," Ruth gasped, "that must be painful!"
   The girl nodded cautiously, as if she were afraid of Ruth. Then, without
warning, the girl slumped to the ground like a sack of gravel that had been cut open, and
all its contents had spilled out. She lay there, staring up at Ruth with huge, red-rimmed
eyes.
   "Are you okay?" Ruth asked. "What happened?"
   The girl rolled over onto her side, and mumbled something.
Ruth caught the words, "Fight....Bruno...No one likes me....on his side...better for
everyone....I disappear.."
   "Who's Bruno?" Ruth inquired. It wasn't every day that a strange girl came tearing
out of Lenson's at full tilt,  crying her eyes out.
   "Bruno's my brother.." The girl moaned. She sat up, and allowed her head to loll
backwards. She was an awful mess.
   "Gee." Ruth didn't know what else to say.
   "Do you have brothers?" the girl asked, suddenly alert and open.
   "I do...but what does that have to do with--"
   "Aren't boys awful?" The girl leaned forward.
   "Yeah..but--"
   "I hate boys. I always say that boys are gonna be the death o' me!"
   Ruth was getting uncomfortable.
   "Say," the girl said happily, "what's your name?"
"R-Ruth Chrisholme,but--"
"I'm Penny DeWitt. Hi."
   Ruth thought that this girl seemed awfully eager to make friends, so she went along
with her, and gave a wave and a lopsided grin. "Hi."
   "Okay," Penny breathed, "Now that that's over with, let's talk. Where do you live? I
haven't seen you around here before."
   Ruth pointed through the rising mist at the house."Over there," she said.
"Oh," Penny said, "One of the new houses."
   Ruth was puzzled by this statement. She never thought Rose Cottage to be
particularly new.
   "Where do you live?" Ruth asked, as if she didn't already know.
"Up there." Penny pointed to Lenson's.
"How long have you lived there?" Ruth asked. Not very long, she thought. Since last
night perhaps.
   "Oh, ages!" was Penny's carefree reply.
   Ruth nearly fell over at this statement.This girl is obviously crazy, Ruth assured
herself. I'll humour her.
   "Oh, really?" Ruth felt like she was choking in the presence of this girl. She knew in
her mind that Penny was crazy, but something deep inside her, an eerie, sick feeling told
her that Penny was telling the truth.
   "Uh, I think I hear my mother calling." Ruth's voice was strangled and high, so unlike
her usual self-assured tone. Ruth's calm demeanor was slowly unravelling with every
breath. She realized that she was panting as if she had run a marathon.
   "Okay, fine. I'll see you tomorrow!" Penny was totally unruffled.
   "K-kay, bye!" Ruth shoved her hands deep into her pockets so Penny wouldn't see
them trembling. Then, she turned and ran, and didn't stop till she was in the warmth and
safety of  her own bedroom.
   That night, Ruth stared out her window at the mounting black storm clouds.
"There'll be a big one tonight," she whispered softly to herself. Somehow, the sound
of her own voice did wonders to calm her down. The first raindrops spattered the
glass, and Ruth stared intently, willing the building storm into solid reality. Sure
enough, a flicker of light licked the ground, followed by a tremendous crash directly over
Ruth's head. Then the clouds split open, and torrential rains came thundering down.
   "Crybaby!" Ruth snapped at the sky, then she threw the curtains shut. As the
velvet folds met each other, Ruth saw something outside that made her heart race. The
curtains were opened again, and she peered out. In the next flash, Ruth confirmed what
she had seen. A person with gauzy pink skirts was standing in the field, head up, mouth
open, her entire body locked in a titanic struggle, a silent scream.
   Ruth wanted to hide in her closet for all eternity, but her eyes were glued to the
scene unfolding outside. The person outside was Penny! It was Penny!
   Penny was standing there, screaming with all her might, but no one heard, and
no one came to her aid. The sight wrenched at Ruth's heart, and she wanted to scream
right along with Penny. Then, that's exactly what she did, for in the next flash of light, a
tiny bushfire started at Penny's feet, and swallowed her up in swirling flames. When
darkness succeeded the blinding light, all that remained was a smoldering pile of
branches.
   When Ruth regained consciousness, her vision focused on four faces standing
above her bed. Her mother, Rosa, a boy she had never seen, and Penny!
   "Ahh!" Ruth let out a little cry when she saw Penny.
"Hiya Ruth!" she chirped, "I heard that you were sick, so I came to pay you a
visit."
"But - Penny! You're dead!" Ruth's voice came out in a dry whisper.
   "Nonsense, Ruth,"  her mother snapped, "that was just a fever dream. You're
talking gibberish."
   Am I now? Ruth wondered. I know what I saw, and Penny is dead. She
smiled weakly.
   "My Ruth had a temperature of 104 degrees!"  Ruth's mother boasted. "That's
enough to give anyone dreams, eh Ruth?"
104! Ruth marvelled. Maybe it was a fever dream. Her eyes focussed on the
boy whom she had never seen before.
   "Who are you?" she asked bluntly of the boy.
   "Me? I'm Bruno!"
Penny looked away, as if she were ashamed that Bruno was her brother.
   "These are fine young children!" Ruth's mother said, still grinning broadly.
Oh God, mother, don't give that stupid grin! Ruth mentally scorned her mother.
   "Are you going to come over to my place today?" Penny asked.
   "Go on, Ruth, some fresh air won't hurt," her mother urged.
"Okay," Ruth said without thinking. She was actually looking forward to it.
   The inside of Lenson's resembled  nothing Ruth seen when she had gone
through the crawlspace to explore. The windows were clean, and velvet curtains in a
deep shade of maroon swept down from the ceiling majestically. There were odd
antiques scattered around in a pleasantly beautiful state of mish-mash. A red
carpet, antique of course, graced the polished floorboards of the hallway. Ruth took it all
in, and nearly felt dizzy at the wonder of it; the soaring rafters in the arched roof, the
stern portraits of an old man and old woman.
   "They are George and Marie Lenson," Penny said of the portraits, "my
grandparents and the first owners of this house."
   "So that's how this place got its name," Ruth marvelled. Her mouth was
open, and a little river of drool was beginning to creep down her chin. She quickly wiped
it away with the back of her hand.
   This view of Lenson's was so different than the one Ruth had seen when she
had gone through the crawlspace. There were no cobwebs and no overturned bits of
furniture, and no potato bugs curled up in each dark corner. "Was I being delusional all
these years?" Ruth asked herself out loud. "Am I crazy?"
   Penny turned around. "What was that, Ruth?"
"Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself."
  They continued wandering down the long corridors, till they reached the grand
hall. Ruth gasped. The great glass ceiling soared above their heads, and huge floor-to-
ceiling windows graced the oak walls. Light filtered in from every opening, bathing Ruth
in sunlight. A grand staircase wound its way up, and Bruno hung from the
banister, swinging through the giant railings. The ceramic tile floor made Ruth's shoes
sound a pleasant click-click when she walked across it.
   "This is amazing!" Ruth shouted to the sky. "It must be incredible on a clear
night!"
"It really is!"  Penny agreed. "I sometimes sleep down here".
   This was another statement that puzzled Ruth. How long had Lenson's looked
this majestic? How long had Penny lived here? It was a great mystery, and Ruth wanted
to know. Penny was hiding something, even though she never let on. Ruth knew everyone
for miles around, even in the town, but she'd never heard of a Penny DeWitt before. Ruth
had some investigating to do.

   Sunlight streamed in through the attic window. Ruth had been up there all
afternoon, and it was almost time for supper. She cut the string on a bundle of ancient
newspapers, and the newspapers scattered themselves across the room in a puff of dust.
   "Yucch!"  Ruth yelled. A big hairy spider crawled from between two pages and
scurried away into a hole in the wall. She decided she'd start with the oldest papers and
work her way up. When she reached the mid-1870's, an article caught her eye.
   "THREE MURDERED IN SERIAL KILLER'S STRIKE ," the headline screamed. Ruth scanned down the article.
 

   Ruth felt chills race up and down her spine as she read the article. She had to tell
Penny. It must have been a misprint. Penny wasn't dead, she couldn't be. Ruth felt hot and
sick. Her head pounded like a percussion band. She jumped up,and clutching the
paper, ran out her front door and across the fields toward Lenson's.
   When she reached it, everything had changed. The doors were barred, the porch
sagged, and the roof tiles were missing again.
   "No!"  Ruth screamed, "I'm too late!"  She ran around to the crawlspace. "Penny!
Penny? Bruno?"
   Her heart raced and so did her feet. "Penny! Penny!"
   The furniture was tipped, the carpet torn, and the windows were broken and
dirty. "Penny! Bruno! Penny!"  Ruth's feet drummed along in time with her
thoughts.
   "Someone please! Penny where are you?"  Ruth was sobbing now. She had
come too late to stop a crime. It all struck her like a lightning bolt. She had gone back in
time. Penny had brought her there in hopes that Ruth could stop the vicious deed of the
serial killer. Now she had failed. The story was there in fine print.
   "Penny!"  Ruth dashed through the winding corridors, trying to find the great
hall.
   "There may still be time!" she gasped. She grabbed the edge of a wall to steady
herself, but miscalculated. Her dress snagged on a nail, tearing a long gash from her
ankle to her thigh. Then she crashed headfirst to the floor. She lay winded for a
second, stunned and upset. Her head throbbed wildly. It felt like Penny was sending
desperate cries for help into Ruth's brain, calling her. Ruth staggered to her feet, and
regained her pace .She burst  into the grand hall, gasping for breath. Bodies lay in pools
of blood on that beautiful ceramic floor. She rushed to where Penny lay. Penny was
barely alive, but she managed to gasp out, "Why didn't you come?"
   "I'm sorry, Penny!" Ruth sobbed, "I'm sorry, I had no idea! I'm sorry."  She held
Penny in her arms. "I'm so sorry."