Beatrix Bobbit and the Haunted Holiday Castle

Beatrix Bobbit held the brochure up and squinted, despite the unusally gray day. Sybil turned the brochure to the side and tilted her head so that her wispy blonde hair spilled over her shoulder.

"Beatrix, dear, this is a castle. The brochure showed a quaint cottage," Mrs. Bobbit smoothed back the pale frizz escaping from her bun.

"But, Judy, it's a castle. I'm sure it's the brochure's fault. Lousy printers." Mr. Bobbit was twirling the ends of his dark mustache with awe in his eyes.

"I agree with dad. We've never stayed in a castle before!" Sybil squealed as she leaned her head between Mr. and Mrs. Bobbit in the front seat of the car.

"This is the address," Beatrix confirmed again by examining the rusted metal numbers beside the gate on the stone wall. Then, Beatrix pulled the large dented key out from its chain tucked under her sweater. "Let's see if the key fits."

Mr. Bobbit grunted gleefully and the car spulttered forward. "A castle, Penny. Will you like at that," he whistled between his teeth and used his free hand to pet the rabbit curled in his lap.

"Even if the key fits, are we most certain we want to stay here, Beatrix, dear? It looks like it hasn't had a good cleaning this century. And the garden!" Mrs. Bobbit's temple glistened with stress at the thought of all the overgrown weeds.

"Maybe you can bring the garden back to life, mom!" Sybil cheered and squeezed Mrs. Bobbit's shoulder, where Mrs. Bobbit promptly grabbed Sybil's hand, refusing to let go as they approached the gate.

Once the car stopped, Beatrix skipped up to the gate, holding the key aloft while she searched for the lock. When she didn't immediately find it in the place all locks should be, she crouched low, scouring each bar until her eyes rested on something very shiny.

It was a small lock in the most polished silver Beatrix had ever seen. Completely out of place on the rusted metal gate and with the mishapen key.

Still, Beatrix tried to attach the key to the lock, and was shocked when it fit perfectly. The lock snapped open with a twist, and Beatrix grabbed the gate and swung it open wide, creaking the whole way.

Back in the car, Mrs. Bobbit was looking more frazzzled, but Mr. Bobbit's eyes were twinkling as he hit the gas and the car shot forward onto the gravel driveway.

They drove past statues covered in moss and vines, fountains filled with leaves, two wooden planked swings strung betwen bent pine trees and weeds at least a head taller than Beatrix.

Secretly, Beatrix was thrilled that the cottage had turned out to be such a spooky looking castle. Already, she was wondering what ingredients she might find for new spells, what secrets the grounds held.

"You're thinking about spells, aren't you?" Sybil whispered in her ear with a giggle.

"I hope they have good garden shears," Mrs. Bobbit said as the car came to a sudden halt in the circular driveway below a massive stone stairccase that led to double green doors with gold handles. "Perhaps Penny coud help with the weeding?" Mrs. Bobbit turned to Mr. Bobbit whose mustache twitched as he tried not to frown.

"Penny likes petals, not weeds," he grumbled, patting Penny thrice on the head .

"Let's go explore our castle!" Sybil somersaulted out of the car window and was already prancing up the stairs to the gold door handles.

Beatrix caught up easily, her long black velvet cloak gathering a pile of dust and leaves as she ran up the stairs.

Sybil's hand was frozen in midair, only inches from the doorknob Beatrix realized was in the shape of an apple.

"What is it, Sybie?" Beatrix grabbed her sister's wrist.

"I thought the apple grew a mouth," Sybil said, sounding slightly stunned as she took a few steps back.

Beatrix threw an arm around her shoulders to stop her from accidentally falling down the stairs, just as Mrs. Bobbit came huffing up, wearing Beatrix's black witch hat and carrying her broomstick.

"Thanks for carrying my stuff. I would have gotten it," Beatrix offered before she realized what Mrs. Bobbit's motives must be.

"In case they don't have a broom and dustbin, Beatrix, dear,' Mrs. Bobbit puffed, using the hat to fan her face even though the temperature was perfectly mild.

"What's wrong with the door?" Mr. Bobbit said, scratching his mustache with one hand, and holding Penny in the other.

"Nothing!" Sybil sang before Beatrix could respond about the alleged mouth. A second later, Sybil's stomach let out a low grumble and Beatrix was relieved. Her sister was just hungry. Which could lead to door knob hallucinations.

So, Beatrix confidently put her hand on the apple doorknob, and turned.

She went in first, followed by Sybil, Mrs. Bobbit and finally Mr. Bobbit and Penny.

"It's very," Mrs. Bobbit searched for words.

"Red?" Sybil answered.

"Royal," Mr Bobbit grunted.

"I agree with dad," Beatrix decided positivity was better than negativity in this moment. And, Beatrix did believe the entry hall had a certain royalty about it.

Especially if royalty meant red and dusty. All of the furniture was in various shades of red, from a marroon couch to a bright red fainting sofa to red plaid chairs and a ruby chandelier.

It was a red room.

Beatrix strode confidently to the center of the room, so she was standing on a red rug coated in a fine silver dust and spun around.

"We can be queens, Sybie!"

"Oh oh maybe there are tiaras and ball gowns!" Sybile giggled.

Once Sybil's laughs echoed around the red wallpapered walls, the entire mood of their party lightened enough for them to explore the rest of the rooms.

The kitchen was in the back, facing a garden of mishapen hedges and bent weeds. It was not a red kitchen, but instead painted in a cheerful yellow that reminded Beatrix of home.

There was a purple ballroom off of the entryway, with lavender tile floors and amethyst sconces. Upstairs, each bedroom had its own color palette. Sybil and Beatrix opted to share the pink room, with magenta headboards and opal lamps. Mr. and Mrs. Bobbit took the green room, with a carpet that greatly resembled grass and a bedspread emrobirdered with twisting vines.

The top floor was entirely a library. It had wood floors and shelves that rose to the ceiling stacked with dusty spines, and a fireplace that smelled like cinnamon in front of two wooden rocking chairs.

"This place is perfect," Sybil said, plopping down in a rocking chair and grinning widely.

Beatrix retrieved her and Sybil's things quickly, but Mr. Bobbit and Mrs. Bobbit were taking far too long to get settled.

"If I could just have my hat," Beatrix trailed off as Mrs. Bobbit used the witch hat to dust off the coffee table.

"Just a moment, Beatrix, dear. Why don't you and Sybil go explore the garden a bit? Then you can help me make dinner."

Beatrix wanted to protest, but at least her witch hat appeared to be dust free from the protections she'd enacted. After Mrs. Bobbit used her hat as a dustbin three times before.

"Great idea, mom!" Sybil was already bounding out the front door and down the stairs. She was on tiptoes as she ran into the weeds, shrieking for Beatrix to follow.

"Where are we going?" Beatrix laughed as the weeds tickled her legs and curled around her arms while she ran to keep up.

"TO THE SWINGS!"

The only thing Sybil loved more than dancing and her family was swinging. It didn't take long for the weeds to part around the two crooked pine trees where the wooden planked swings awaited them.

Beatrix flicked the rope with her finger, and noted that it seemed to be in very good shape. Almost brand new. Like the shiny lock outside the gate.

Sliding onto the cool wood, Beatrix looked over at her sister whose fingers were already wrapped around the rope. She stuck her tongue between the small gap in her front teeth and whooped before she started pumping her legs furiously.

Beatrix mimicked the motion until she was flying in the air, catching whiffs of thick, woodsy smoke and damp grass. The ropes were so long they could fly high enough to see the entire grounds which were overgrown and covered in statues that looked like...

"Bea?" Sybil asked, still pumping her legs while her fair hair got staticky.

"Yes?" Beatrix asked, already knowing what her sister was going to say as her hand found her crooked, twig wand tucked into her cloak.

"Do you think the castle grants holiday wishes?"

Beatrix was so surprised by Sybil's question that she was momentarily silent while she searched for the words. And tightened the grip on her wand.

"Only one way to find out," Beatrix pumped her legs faster to match Sybil's pace. "What's your wish?"

Over the roar of wind and the pounding in Beatrix's ears, Sybil squealed, "To fly!"

Beatrix closed her eyes. Her stomach dropped. And at first, it felt like falling. Which, thanks to the long swing ropes, was quite a ways down.

But, when she wasn't crashing into the ground a moment later, she cautiously opened one eye.

"IT WORKED!" Sybil zoomed past her, swimming her arms gracefully as she circled Beatrix in the air.

The swings kept swinging below them. Though they were no longer in the swings.

Finally, Beatrix managed to open both of her eyes. Getting a view of the pink sunset surrounding them, and the light fading from the statues scattered across the grounds.

Beatrix's cheeks stretched as she smiled. Frantically, she pedaled her arms and legs, crashing into Sybil and locking hands while they flipped above the trees, feet skimming pine needles as they rolled over and over.

"THIS IS THE BEST WISH EVER!" Sybil squealed in glee, practicing upside down spins with her arms extended overhead, still flying effortlessly.

"Beatrix, dear! Sybil, dear! Dinner!" Mrs. Bobbit's voice blew towards them.

"PENNY IS WAITING!" Mr. Bobbit bellowed.

Beatrix and Sybil held hands as they soared above the empty fountains and moss strangled stone pathways, until they were flying up the stairs to the castle front doors.

"Beatrix, dear? Sybil, dear? Are you flying?" Mrs. Bobbit rubbed her eyes just as their feet touched down.

Sybil giggled.

"Don't be silly, Judy, they were just running to make dinner. Come on, Penny can't wait a second longer or she'll get faint," Mr. Bobbit ushered them inside.

The entire castle smelled like butter that made Beatrix's stomach rumble.

But at the doorway, as her family was making their way to the kitchen, she peered back outside, searching the grounds for signs of what she had witnessed earlier amongst the statues.

When Sybil had spoken her name while they were swinging freely, Beatrix was certain she was about to ask why the statues were moving.

And Beatrix was not sure how to answer her sister.

All she was certain of was moving statues certainly had a reason for breaking from their nature. Beatrix was determined to spend the rest of the holiday figuring out what that reason was.