Serial Story: Part 9

[Editor’s note: This is the ninth and final chapter in the Washington Writers’ Workshop’s serial story, with a different author picking up the story each week where the previous one left off.]

The Truth about Uncle George

A serial story Part IX

by John Greener

“… and so doctor, you’ve heard my story. Am I quite mad? Am I Alice or the Queen, how about the Rabbit or the Mad Hatter,” said Lila.

The doctor replied, “which are you? Which Lila is real?”

“Now, that is a difficult question” she said.

“Alright,” said the doctor, “give me a difficult answer.

“Where or when do I begin.”

“Just pick an event or a time.” He looked out of the window. This doctor was so calm that Lila thought he might be prescribing for himself, but she trusted Dr Levi Masalouski. “So after George and I robbed the armored truck…”

“Wait! This isn’t ….”

“I was just making sure that you were awake.” For a change Lila was feeling really good both physically and emotionally. She could joke again.

“After mother died Uncle George showed up for the funeral. He had left Sandyville decades ago, but I was hoping that he could tell me my history. He did - eventually.” “Once, our family lived in the old mansion. It wasn’t old and spooky then. It was bright, full of children and there were parties in the garden. George’s father was a master magician. He needed the big house to have room to invent his illusions. It is one of the many stories about how George lost his eye.”

“What about the White Rabbit?” asked the doctor.

“He was the experiment that cost George his eye. George actually created a talking hare to use in the act. They made a fortune, but the changing tastes of the Vaudeville audience caused the act to fold. George’s father died of boredom and the estate fell into disrepair. I used to go there to think and if Sandyville thought the place was haunted so much the better. The bees, the hare, dragons, music, voices, all of it illusion.

“One night I was thinking about my favorite place when I heard footsteps on the gravel path. It was Uncle George dressed in a suit, tie and suitcase. I had dreaded this day. It was time to travel and he had come to say farewell. I asked if he needed money, he said, ‘money will just make me careless.’ He reached into his pocket then took my hand and dropped a large brass key into it and closed my fingers around it. As he turned to leave he said, ‘I really am your uncle.’

“I ran to him and hugged him, I said, ‘I would want you even if you weren’t !’ He held me away and said in a husky voice, ‘I gotta train to catch.’”

“What will you do now?” asked the erstwhile doctor.

“Rebuild the estate, of course and make it a haven for retired magicians.” “With what? You’re only a part-timer at Big Box.”

“Doctor, I was not always fifty-five, and a slightly dumpy spinster. I married an oil tycoon. We tried to spend money faster than we earned it, but failed and he died. So, I am rich and alone.”

“I’m sorry, but our secession seems to be over for today. Same time next week?” “Sure,” Lila said, and left the office. They think it is all an illusion, let them. As she walked down the sidewalk dragons flew from the highest window of the tallest tower of the mansion. A large, white hare appeared beside her, she took its paw and they walked on.