Thistlebloom and the Secrets of Brewer's Botanicals

Chapter Four

"Investigate? Investigate what? This is a place of work, not some playground for your flights of fancy!"

Mrs. Dumpfry's anger subsided, her cherry-pink complexion returning to her cheeks. She gave him a stern yet somewhat resigned look before issuing her decree, "Back to your desk now, and you will remain there until the end of the day."

Lysander returned to his desk, keeping his head down, and began sorting the herbs and flowers as she had instructed. But his gaze strayed toward the closet.

This can't happen again. I must leave. Yes, that settles it after work I will leave town and they won't find me.

As the hours passed his anxiety continued to gnaw at him.

A chime echoed through Brewer's Botanicals. His gaze darted to a corner, where a cuckoo clock was on the wall. Its carved wooden figures danced to life, performing a routine as the clock chimed the hour.

As he exited the room and locked the door behind him, a futile attempt at keeping the secrets concealed within.

Once Lysander made his way to the front of the shop, there stood Mrs. Dumpfry, her head bobbing and swaying as she spoke.

"Lysander. There are things in this world better left undisturbed."

"But what's behind that door, Mrs. Dumpfry?"

"Nothing for you to worry your head about Lyle."

As Lysander left and ventured down the darkened winter streets, the night air wrapped itself around him.

Why are they back? Where did it come from? What secrets lie within Brewer's Botanicals?

As Lysander arrived home, he rushed to his closet and pulled down a large duffle bag. He started to stuff clothes into it and packed up the rest of his personal belongings. He did have much and managed to fit it all into one bag.

"That does it," said Lysander, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts of his hair at the same time.

Ten minutes later he was in the car, speeding toward the highway. Butterball was sitting in the back seat with eyes as large as moons.

He drove. And he drove. Now and then Lysander would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. He didn't stop to eat or drink all day. Lysander stopped at last outside a hotel on the outskirts of a big city. The room had one bed with musty sheets.

He brought in Butterball who went to find a hiding spot underneath the bed and didn't venture out even for a can of tuna.

He ate stale chips and whatever he could find in the mini-fridge, which was a small carton of milk and a few slices of cheese for breakfast the next day.

"We need to keep moving." He said to Butterball as he loaded up the hissing feline whose hair was now coming out in tuffs. Exactly what he was looking for, he had no idea. All he knew was that he needed to keep putting distance between himself and those creatures.

Perched on top of the rock was a little shack. The dark rumbling sky tossed the sea about, and the waves struck the shack as Lysander made his way up the path. The inside was horrible; it smelled of mold, the wind whistled through the gaps in the walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty.

Butterball gave him a loud hiss and scampered off toward the bedroom. "Oh, come on! It's not that bad."

As night fell, the storm blew up around the shack. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a wind rattled the windows. Lysander couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned around trying to get comfortable.