Fragonard The Souvenir

Fragonard The SouvenirVan Gogh The Olive GroveFragonard The BathersFragonard The Confession of Love
Fric’s hammering heart knocked all the words out of his throat before he could speak them, and as he struggled to sputter through his silence, he was lifted off his feet and held high by his weird guardian.“Moloch is in the house. Hide, boyto look back.The guardian had vanished.The photograph was nowhere to be seen.Moloch is in the house.Fric fled the library, sprinting for the conservatory by the shortest route., for God’s sake, hide.”With that, Mysterious Caller threw Fric as though he were only a bundle of rags, but threw him with a magical knack that prevented [557] him from crashing hard into furniture. Instead, he tumbled in slow motion across the library, over the club chairs and tables, past the islands of bookshelves.As he rotated on a curious axis, head over heels, Fric saw the photograph of the pretty lady, his make-believe mom, which had slipped out of his pocket and now drifted lazily beside him through the air, in his sphere of influence. Like an astronaut reaching for a floating tube of food in the gravity-free environment of a space shuttle high in orbit, he grasped for the picture but could not quite close his hand on it.Abruptly he hit the floor on both feet, near the Christmas tree that was hung with angels, hit the floor running, whether he wanted to run or not, as if his legs were spellcast to churn him out of here.Past the tree, at the open door to the library, he turned