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February 1, 2019

The Visit to the Cottage

by Brian Michael Miga


This was the first time she was driving to the recently purchased cottage; she was alone except for Fifi who was whining having to attend to nature's call.  Under the canopy created by the tall hemlocks and white pines it was rapidly getting dark.  Very eagerly in the ebbing daylight she pulled to the door, let Fifi out of the car and unlocked the cottage door.  When she put her bag down, she turned just in time to see Fifi in the talons of a golden eagle rapidly being spirited away while kicking and screaming in terror. 
            "Xanax … where the hell is my Xanax, goddamit," she cursed.
            You come here for peace and serenity and you end up with a horror she thought to herself.  Zealously, she popped open some malbec to wash down her anxiety and sedative. 
            A knock on the door drew her full attention.  Books and umbrella in hand, it was Mr. Wiggs, the former owner.  "Couldn't get here any sooner to give you the manual for the heat pump and septic sketch, so here you go." 
            "Don't mind my tears, Mr. Wiggs, but an eagle just carried off my dog and best friend and I am very upset." 
            "Ever, ever so sorry, miss; I'll leave you to collect yourself" Mr. Wiggs stated as he turned and walked off the porch. 
            Filling her glass with a second round, she noticed Mr. Wiggs had left his umbrella near the door.  Going after him down the drive she even called out but Mr. Wiggs had vanished. 
            He had been watching through the window; he slipped into the house through the open door and pressed against the dark wall when he heard her footsteps on the porch and soon she was back sitting on the sofa, wine in hand.  Inching along the wall in back of her he reached and grabbed her by the nape of the neck.  "Just do what I say lady or you and your husband will end up like your little dog." He squeezed her tightly as he threatened.  "Keep your eyes down; don't look around; give me all your cash; I know you're loaded."
            "Let me be, mister; take my cash which is in my wallet, but please leave us be."
            Maliciously he reached over and squeezed and twisted her breast, making her cry out in pain.
            "No screams; no looking around; slowly count to 100.  Police are my kin so don't go there" he said as he pocketed her wallet. 
            Quietly she stifled her urge to cry and slowly counted to herself.  Reaching 90, she heard the door open and out of the corner of her eye she saw her husband staring at her, mouth agape.  She sobbed out: "An eagle carried Fifi off…"