The house was pitch black when I entered.  I assumed the power must have been out, but the rest of the neighborhood was well lit.  Was there a problem that tripped off our entire house? Perhaps Aunt Lucy had done something. An image of her, frizzy grey hair standing on end, eyes bugged out, flashed through my mind.  She was an oddball and may have done something, well, not too bright…

“Aunt Lucy?” I said, though it was little more than a whisper.

I walked carefully through the house, not turning on any switches.  If my great aunt was touching a wire, I didn’t want to be the one to throw even more juice through what I imagined must be her smoldering remains.

“Aunt Lucy?”

I found her alive and well, sitting on a cushion in the middle of the living room.  The curtains were drawn back throwing a circle of the full-moonlight around her in the otherwise midnight black room. She was ripping pages, one at a time, out of an ancient book and holding them up to the silvery light.  It didn’t make sense.  The side away from her was lit up, so she was looking at the shadowed side. What could she see?

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