A Thanksgiving Day Story

The neighbors’ front gate was hidden by tall trees until you were just upon it. The tall black iron spires jutted high into the misty skies. The immense front gate bore a large encrusted heraldic crest just above the enormous black lock.I reached to touch the mane of one of the stone lions that guarded each side of the giant gate, when an old man on the other side hobbled up to me and grumbled,“Don’t touch that.”He had a scar that dug a deep ravine down the side of his face. He growled, “Does that belong to you?”“Pardon me sir, but I have been sent here to see the cook.”“Oh, you have been sent, have you?” His lip curled up with a huff.“Yes, I have.” I trembled.“Do you know anyone here?”Shaking his pitchfork down at me.I answered, “N...no, sir.”He stood his pitchfork on the ground, and ordered me to,“Go home.”I panicked…”No…but … I can’t sir” the thought, “No…”He leaned over to look me square in the eyes, “No unaccompanied or uninvited guests are allowed past these gates.”A deep auburn carriage with shimmering bronze curtains rolled up. The coachman nodded to the caretaker who then began working the lock.The sinuous voice from within the carriage asked, “What does the little darling want?” Read more