I know how lucky we are to own a cottage in the mountains. Our grey tiled beauty that nestles between a pair of rugged hills. A place where you can stroll out of the door, and find yourself on a walking route through lush valleys and sparkling rivers.
But for me the real joy was playing cards at the kitchen table. A pack of cards is the ticket that ends boredom forever. As long as you remembered to get drinks and snacks from the last shop before the woodland, you could listen to the tick of the clock, and create limitless combinations of fifty-two slices of cardboard.
I was nineteen when I took two friends to the cottage for the weekend. My first big drive since passing my test. The wide lanes of the motorway and winding country trails made me grip the steering wheel until my fingers ached. I sighed with relief when the cars dried up, and the scenery changed to steep inclines on both sides.
Perhaps I was naive. I thought my friends would want to play cards too. Delicious fizzy beverages ruled the fridge, and the cupboards contained packet after packet of starch and salt and everything good.
But after unpacking in the guest room or on the sofas (we had tossed a coin to decide who got what), my friends whacked on their hiking boots and sensible coats. We started to argue during the filling of water bottles. I do not think they appreciated how much I wanted to stay.
The front door slammed shut. I doled out the Solitaire piles, anger still fizzing through me. But the tick of the clock and light changing from orange to total darkness soothed me. Freshly brewed Peppermint tea and chocolate digestives helped too.
During my fourth game I realised I had forgotten about the skinwalkers. How Dad had always been so cautious about heading outside, even when the blue skies still ruled the day. How he locked the windows and drew the curtains at the first sign of sunset always with a grin on his face.
We had munched on cheese and crackers, played round after round of cards, and ignored the knocks on the door. At Christmas we played Poker with chocolate coins for chips. It was the happiest I have ever been.
Tonight had been so cosy, I had not even remembered to draw the curtains. Soon my friends watched me through the window panes. They demanded to come in, and knocked on the door like all the others.
I did not have to puzzle too hard. The skin on their faces was too tight, and their eyes were the wrong shade of green. They howled when I finally closed the curtains, and knocked even harder.
It was no big deal. Soon I was back to my game, playing hands so close to those created a million times before. Even if all of them were completely different.
Line: The skin on their faces was too tight, and their eyes were the wrong shade of green.
