For a week now, I've been coming home to this:
And when I leave in the morning, I open the door to find this:
(Dutch Angle helps you sense the scariness!)
Mrs. Danvers bides her time, waiting. Teresa emailed me a suggestion after my last post - perhaps Mrs. Danvers isn't here to terrorize me. Perhaps she's here to protect me from the Spanish spiders.
Which, if true, changes things. It means that I am not the timid second Mrs. de Winter. Perhaps I am, in fact, Rebecca. Beautiful, beloved, calculating, and cruel Rebecca. And my quiet companion is not a presence to dread but is actually my dear Danny, guarding my rooms in my absence.
(See the resemblance?)
Two days ago, as I headed out to work, I turned to lock my door and found Mrs. Danvers hovering over the lock. "Mrs. Danvers," I said in a reassuring tone, "I need to lock my door. I'll be back tonight."
She didn't move.
"I'm not going sailing or anywhere near the ocean. I promise."
She ignored me, pretending not to understand. Finally, I blew gently on her, to encourage her to scuttle away from the lock.
She fell to the floor and shuddered, struggled to get up again.
I felt somewhat bad, but I was running late, so I left her.
When I came home, her post was empty.
The next morning, the next evening, there was no sign of her. I called, but she didn't answer.
Naturally, I am concerned that my apartment will be burned to the ground any moment now.
In any case, Rachel, Ben, Brian, Miranda, and Nate joined me in watching Hitchcock's version of the story last night. It's very good, even with the slight plot change.
But when I got home, I found this:
I have no idea what it is or what it means.
I'm fairly certain the spiders are to blame.