Home
The show ended at 7:00, and Francis was bored again. There was nothing even halfway decent on TV, so he turned it off and went to wash dishes. That took all of two minutes, as he barely even used dishes if he didn�t have to. He stared out the window. It was still cloudy outside.
�Maybe I�ll go read something,� Francis said. He had recently purchased a book on woodworking, and he had yet to even open it. He picked it up from the counter and sat on the sofa with it. He scanned the table of contents, looking for an interesting chapter.
�Oh, this looks good. Chapter 7: The Proper Method of Sanding, page 119.� He flipped to it. ��Step One�,� he read, ��Choose the correct sandpaper for the job. If you choose an incorrect grain for the type of wood you are sanding, then the results may be disastrous.� Well, that�s being a little melodramatic, isn�t it? Let�s try another.� Francis returned to the table of contents. �Chapter 10: Woodworking as a Business, page 153. Sounds good.� He found the page, and read, ��A skilled woodworker can turn their hobby into a profitable business. Handcrafted wood furniture and other products are always in high demand. But beware of��- he paused, yawning- �being�� Okay, this is ridiculous. This is only gonna make me fall asleep faster.� He closed the book and put it down beside him on the couch.
Francis looked over at the clock. It wasn�t even 7:30 yet, but it was very dark outside, and the wind was picking up. �I give up,� he said, standing up from the sofa. �I�m going to sleep. If Julia needs me, she can come find me.�
Apparently, she needed him. When Francis turned around, Julia was standing behind him. Francis practically jumped out of his skin.
�Don�t do that!� he cried. He looked at Julia. She was no longer crying. Instead, she had a look of determination on her face.
�Come,� she said quietly, �Mira. Look.�
She grasped Francis� hand. For a moment, he saw only blackness. Then, the world returned around him. However, it was a different world than he had expected to see. Everything seemed dark and damp, almost abandoned-looking. He and Julia were standing at the front door of a house. Francis could tell it was his house by the design, but it looked completely different otherwise. There was a painted sign above the door. It read, �La Canci�n Bonita�. He figured it was the name of the house. Julia opened the door.
They walked inside. Francis recognized the house- it was his own, but not the way he knew it. It was the same as his dream, when he fell asleep in the cab. He remembered it. There was something he didn�t remember from his dream, though- a large painting on the wall of a man and a woman. The woman was clearly Julia. The man was more than likely her husband. Francis was immediately reminded of Jeff. And he said they weren�t related, Francis thought. The resemblance is uncanny.
�Come,� Julia said again, urgently. She pulled Francis over to a small table in the middle of the room. There was a piece of paper on the table. Julia picked it up, thrusting it into Francis� free hand.
�Por favor,� she said imploringly, �give this to my husband. To Diego.�
Francis looked at her. �But he�s dead,� he said. �Diego died a long time ago. And�so did�you.�
Julia just stared at him. Then, she released his hand. He was engulfed in blackness again for a second, until he was once again standing beside his sofa.
�Whoa,� Francis said, shaking his head. �I must�ve fallen asleep or something.�
He felt something in his hand. He looked down at it. In it, he clutched a yellowed piece of paper- Julia�s letter.
�Okay, maybe I didn�t fall asleep.� Francis sat back down slowly, shaking slightly, and sighed. �What do I do now?�
Chapter 7
The letter was perfectly intact. All of the writing on it was still completely legible. Francis began to read it, but stopped when he realized he couldn�t.
�It�s in Spanish,� he said, slightly disappointed. �I can�t read it. Now I�ll never know what it says.�
He sighed and set the letter down on the table. Then, he thought about what Julia had said. �Give this to my husband,� she had told him. But how was he to do that?
�Her husband died. That�s how the story went. And even if that�s not how it really happened, there�s no way he�s still alive now. That was, like, 200 years ago.� Francis sighed again. �Okay, I have an idea.� It was all coming together now. �Maybe her husband�s ghost will show up tomorrow night, and then I�ll give him the letter, and then they can be at peace. Whoo,� he said with a slight smirk, �Messenger to the Spirits. That�s quite an interesting concept. And in the meantime, I can ask Jeff if he knows a Diego Vargas, and then I can�never mind.� Francis had considered showing the letter to Jeff to have him read it, but after the way he reacted before� It didn�t seem like such a good idea.
Still, Francis� curiosity got the better of him. Even though he tried to talk himself out of it, he brought Julia�s letter to work with him the next day.
�Jeff won�t mind,� Francis had told himself. �He�ll jump at the chance to feel like he�s smarter than me.�
