Excerpt
ONEMillie: The Underlying Problem
It was more of a lodge than a cabin but “cabin” is what they called it. The walls were made of heavy, thick logs, after all. The main living area was a broad space leaking from kitchen to dining area to a two-story-high lounge arranged around a tall, fieldstone fireplace.
Millie sat on one of the couches, staring out the windows, and frowned. It was snowing outside—big, fat, fluffy flakes—but she really wasnt noticing.
She was alone in the room and then she wasnt.
Davy was wearing a tropical-weight suit with the sleeves of the jacket rolled up on his forearms. He unrolled them as he asked, “Whats wrong?”
Millie sighed, her eyes tracking up to the ceiling before returning to Davys face.
Davy glanced up to the second-floor landing. “The usual?”
Millie jerked her thumb up. “Go look at her door.”
He sighed. “She is an irritation of the spirit.…”
Millie completed the phrase, “… and a great deal of trouble.”
Davy vanished. After a brief pause Millie heard laughter drift down the staircase. Millie stood and jumped, appearing beside Davy in the upstairs hallway.
A sign, scrawled on butcher paper, was tacked to a closed bedroom door. It said:
HELP!
BEING HELD PRISONER BY TELEPORTING ALIENS!
KEPT FROM NORMAL LIFE.
SEND FRIENDS.
ALSO ICE CREAM.
Davy was shaking his head and still laughing.
“Stop it!” Millie said. “Youre not helping!”
“You gotta admit, she is funny,” Davy said. “Takes after me that way.”
Millie snapped. “What—you think youre funny?” She pulled at Davys arm, leading him back toward the landing.
Davy raised his eyebrows at Millie and grinned.
“Okay, she is funny, but the underlying problem is no less a problem.”
Davys smile faded and he jerked his chin down toward the kitchen, and vanished.
Millie followed to see him putting the kettle on.
“What choice do we have?” Davy said. “I mean, really?”
Millie shook her head. She felt like she should have an answer but she didnt.
Davy hugged her and that was good … but the underlying problem was still no less a problem.
And it could only get worse.
Copyright © 2012 by Steven Gould