Air(Terri Talley Venters) Air

Cornelius stood guard at the Biltmore Estate in Ashville, North Carolina. He sat in his usual spot, perched on the rooftop, guarding the west entrance of the estate. Thousands of tourists traversed the long hallways each day to gawk at the Gilded-Age opulence of the largest, privately-owned home in the United States.

Cornelius protected the estate with over a hundred others. He took his duties seriously. He and his coworkers never moved an inch during their twelve-hour work shifts. Staying perfectly still was easy, especially since Cornelius recently turned one hundred.

The last group of tourists appeared on the rooftop. A small boy held his Mother’s hand, pointed at the guard, and asked, “Look at that one, Mommy, why is he so ugly?”

“Michael, sweetheart, it’s not polite to point and say mean words.” The boy’s mother rolled her eyes, obviously incredulous of the words pouring from her child’s mouth.

“It’s okay, Mommy, he can’t hear me,” Michael said.

“I know baby, but let’s practice our good manners just the same,” she said.

“Can we walk to the edge with Daddy and look? Please?” Michael pleaded with pouty lips.

“No, Michael, Mommy is too scared to look over the edge. I don’t know why your father insisted we take the rooftop tour with a small child. It’s so windy, and I’m terrified you’ll blow right off the edge.” She squeezed Michael’s hand.

The tour guide pointed towards a female gargoyle. “Please notice all of the gargoyles perched along the rooftop of the Biltmore. Each one is different, and some even boast voluptuous breasts like this one here.” She gave the men a few seconds to admire the taut nipples of the statue and shoot a few perverted pictures before continuing the tour.

“Some gargoyles are used as waterspouts to divert rainwater, while others serve as guards to protect the estate. I’ve worked at the Biltmore for over thirty years. And every so often, I notice the gargoyles are perched in a slightly different spot than they were the day before,” the guide said.

“How do the gargoyles switch places?” Michael asked.

“Magic.” The guide tossed the sandy blond hair of the adorable blue-eyed boy.

Cornelius refrained from chuckling at the tour guide’s comment. He’d noticed it, too. The gargoyles did appear in different places on occasion. But while the guide found it magical and amusing, it infuriated Cornelius.

The sound of wings flapping made Cornelius curse silently because he knew the noise belonged to a pigeon. Those damn ‘rats with wings’ proved the bane of his existence because they were stupid, loud, dirty, and pooped everywhere. He prayed the pigeon pooped in another guard’s territory. The last thing Cornelius wanted was to clean pigeon poop after his shift ended.

“Mommy, look. The toes on the gargoyle just moved.” Michael pointed.

“No, Honey, you’re imagining things. Gargoyles can’t move because they’re statues guarding the estate,” the mother said.

“But the lady said sometimes the gargoyles switch places,” Michael said.

“Why do you listen to the tour guide, but not me when I tell you to clean your room. She merely teased when she said the gargoyles switched places,” the mother said.

“But I saw…,” Michael said.

“It’s just your overactive imagination. Come on, let’s go. Mommy and Daddy are eager for wine tasting at the Biltmore winery.” She pulled Michael along.

The tourists exited the rooftop for the last tour of the day. Dusk loomed, and Cornelius anticipated the end of his long shift.

The sun set, and darkness settled in. The last of the tourists and guides left the Biltmore. Cornelius breathed an enormous sigh of relief. His stomach growled with hunger as he contemplated what to eat for dinner—venison, lamb, beef, game, or fish?

Tonight, he felt like dining alone. His tough day guarding the rooftop put him in a foul mood. He felt antisocial and hoped none of the other guards took offense for his craving solitude for a few hours. He could always meet up with the others later.

The Biltmore workers vacated the grounds until sunrise tomorrow morning. He wiggled his toes and rolled his shoulders to alleviate the cramping in his limbs from sitting perched all day on the rooftop without a single break.
When the coast looked clear, Cornelius, the gargoyle, extended his wings. He jumped off Biltmore’s rooftop and flapped his powerful wings through the air.


*****


Air is one of the 124 short stories in my Elements Of Mystery Collection where each story is named after an element in the Periodic Table of Elements. (Plus, Air, Water, Fire & Earth) This and my twenty plus other books are available everywhere eBooks are sold. Print Books on Amazon. Please visit my website at https://www.elementsofmystery.com/

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