Friday, January 28, 2011

Chapter 6


Max entered his Master’s bed chamber baring a silver serving tray laden with a bowl of fresh strawberries and crème and a crystal goblet of a rich red wine. “Your guest is safe within her quarters my Lord.” He sat the tray down on a table within easy reach of his master’s hand.

“You take to many risks my Lord.” Max moved quickly around the chamber shuttering all of the large windows and pulling closed the heavy draperies.

Sir Nicholas, reclined in his favorite chair, did not move his gaze from the pages of the book he was reading. “You worry too much my old friend.”

“You have been lucky too many times before.” Max persisted, now turning down the bed linens.

“Oh dear, you are not speaking of those children again?” Nicholas chuckled.

“You are very lucky they did not return here, or worse.” Max’s frustration with his master’s refusal to take matters seriously shone clearly across his reddened face.

Nicholas lowered the book to his lap, folding it closed over one slender hand to keep his place. “It worked out well as I knew it would, the child found what he wanted and had no need to return. And if he spoke of it to the villagers they either thought him mad or it further fueled their fear of the “cursed woods”. And as for the coins I felt responsible, I did, after all, kill their father.” 

“Another unneeded risk” Max went about fluffing the many pillows scattered at the head of the bed. “The villagers could have easily come here looking for him. Many knew his plan to come here to find the secret of these woods.”

Nicholas waved an unconcerned hand, “The man was a drunken scoundrel and a thief, no one in that village felt his absence, least of all his wife whom was made to suffer his abuse.  They assumed he abandoned his family and that was the end of it”

Max was not satisfied or finished. “Too what end did you allow this woman here? Did you kill her father too perhaps?” Max’s placed a meaty hand on each hip, now facing his master.

Whether from Max’s words or the mere image of his stance Nicholas laughed merrily. “I might have indeed my old friend, one never knows.” He tipped Max a wink and resumed reading.

Max’s pursed his lips into a disapproving scowl, “I find your continued well being on this earth not so amusing as you.”

Nicholas put down his book once more. “My dear friend, I do not make light of your concern for me. If it were not for your trust and diligence I would have been vanquished from this world long ago. It is a debt I can never repay. But you have nothing to fear of her. She is no threat to me, far from it. Her presence here amuses me, for now.”

“She is no child, you cannot let her leave here alive.” Max insisted.

“I have no intention of doing so.” Nicholas smiled.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Chapter 5

Audrey was still reeling from Nicholas’s abrupt departure when a man entered the chamber. He was dressed in a dark suit, obviously designer, and expensive. He was tall, easily six foot five or so. His frame was enormous, but Audrey was quite sure there was not an ounce of fat on him, he was solid. All muscle. He looked more the part of a bouncer or a body guard than a man servant. While his size was intimidating his facial features were softer, and kind. His hair was dark, peppered with grey. He wore it shoulder length but neatly trimmed. His eyes were a sparkling blue. He possessed a smile that lit up his entire face.

“Good evening Madam” he bowed, “My name is Max, I have been instructed by my lord to see to your every whim. I assume you will be our guest for the night?”

“Yes I suppose so” Audrey answered, though the words seem to come from someone else. She was trapped in a fog, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She had come here seeking a great evil and she had found something else. Or was there evil disguised beneath the enchanting beauty of that place? Her host was certainly eccentric but so were many that possessed great wealth. He was wealthy, of that there was no doubt. Eccentricity was not evil in itself.  There was something about this place that filled the nearby villagers with terror. Audrey truly believed all rumors begin with some measure of truth. Was Nicholas the source of these stories, these fears? Did they even know that the castle stood in these woods surrounded by its breathtaking garden? After all the existence of the grand estate was not even hinted at from outside the tall stone wall and rusted gates. But it seemed illogical for all this grandeur to lay undetected for all this time.  How had Nicholas managed to remain unknown, and more importantly, why?


“Shall I show you to your chamber now, or would you prefer to remain here for a while? Perhaps you require something from the kitchen?” Max offered with that same jovial smile.

Audrey shook her head slightly, as if the gesture would banish the troubling thoughts from her mind. “I am suddenly quite tired.”

“Of course” Max retrieved a candelabra from the mantel then offered Audrey one of his massive arms for support, helping the lady from the settee. He escorted her out of the chamber and back out onto the landing. The cold, darkness descended on them immediately. It felt oppressive to Audrey; Max seemed not bothered at all. The candles he carried barely lit their way; they did nothing to bring cheer to the dank stone corridor.

Audrey was thankful when her guide did not move towards the long staircase but instead led her further down the corridor. “Your Lord does not use electricity?”

“No madam, he prefers to live more simply. This castle remains little changed since it was first erected here.”

“And when was that?” Audrey looked up at him as they walked; Max kept his gaze straight ahead.
 
“Too many years have passed since then to be sure.” He smiled.

Audrey knew she was not going to get any other answer. Instead she looked away from her guide and tried to discern more of her surroundings. As they passed soft candlelight splashed along the walls. In those brief moments she saw ornately carved wall sconces, which held unlit candles, adorning the stonework. Several wooden doors in arched frames lined the corridor. No light shone underneath them. Along the walls elaborate tapestries depicted scenes she could not quite make out in the gloom. Paintings, mostly of women of great beauty, dotted the walls. All of the subjects were garbed in fashions of long ago ages. The images made Audrey feel even more small and plain.

“Ah here we are” Max stopped in front of one of the wooden doors. He produced a large and rather old fashioned key from his jacket pocket. He inserted it into the lock and it turned over with a resounding clunk that echoed through the corridor.

But Audrey was not paying attention; she was intent instead on the door across the hall. A small sliver of light shone underneath it. Though she did not understand why, her heart skipped a beat as a brief shadow passed through the light under the door.

“Madam” Max gestured for her to enter her chamber ahead of him.

Audrey, startled, turned around sharply but quickly recovered. “Thank you” she forced a relaxed smile and passed him and entered the room.

“I do hope it is to your liking” Max followed her inside. “I took the liberty of lighting a fire and the wall sconces. There is fresh linen should you like to freshen yourself before retiring.”

He continued on but Audrey was no longer listening, she was entranced by the bed chamber she now found herself in “It is beautiful” she sighed

The stone walls had been plastered and papered in an elegant antique gold. A large fireplace added a warm brilliance to one wall. Its mantel carved from the purest mahogany. Several candles and fresh flowers adorned its surface.  The floor was covered with a plush rug of a deep crimson; her feet seemed to sink into its depth. A massive four poster bed, also of mahogany, extended from the wall across front the fireplace. The bed was dressed in a plush velvet coverlet of crimson, golden pillows of various shapes and sizes were scattered about the head. From the beds canopy flowed think velvet draperies of the same color as the coverlet. Beneath these draperies and drawing all around the bed hung panels of sheer pale silk.  An antique armoire and a small writing desk and chair were positioned on one wall beside the bed while the opposite wall offered its mistress an elegant dressing table and velvet covered stool.  The dressing table was littered with silver brushes, and combs, perfume bottles of all colors and design, cosmetics and crèmes; truly anything she should desire or require. A dressing screen stood poised in one corner while a velvet covered settee lounged in another. A small archway lead to another chamber which she assumed was a bathing room. Although eyeing the brass chamber pot beside the bed with much distaste she had given up hope of indoor plumbing. Though the object, she had to admit, added even more charm to the room.

“If you should require anything at all please ring for me” Max gestured to a golden rope tasseled at the end that hung from the ceiling by the bed.

“Yes, thank you.” She replied.

Max moved to the door, the huge key still in his hand.

Audrey felt a sudden panic wash over her, “You are not going to lock me in are you?”

“Of course not madam” Max smiled and tucked the key into a pocket. “Good night madam.” He bowed deeply and retreated from the room, closing the door behind him.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Chapter 4

A fog, so gentle it's almost a mist, creeps through the white stripes of Ash in the darkness and blankets the path up to her waist.  Her fingers trail, causing ripples along the surface that spread on both sides.   She can no longer see her footfalls as she slowly picks her way down the path toward the gathering moonlight ahead. What appears to be another wall emerges from the fog, reaching much higher than her mere five and a half feet of height.  

The closer she edges, the less certain she is, both of her footing as well as what she sees.  It appears the wall is moving and when she finally comes close upon it -- it actually is.  

Strong stalks of Hollyhocks, the size of her wrist at the base and more than six feet tall tower over her and sway very slightly in the nearly nonexistent breeze.  Punctuated every few inches by a beautiful flowers their entire height, Hollyhocks of red,  pink, yellow and white - their colors rendered indescript by the soft moonlight show their beauty in an oddly diffuse way.  Mouth agape, she realizes that they are just far enough apart that she can pass between them.  Slipping sideways very carefully, she begins to weave forward into this forest of flowers, jostling them very softly here and there.  From the centers the pollen begins to drift down on her as they are disturbed, sparkling in the moonlight, leaving enchanted traces of light and dancing as they fall.  They cling to her long dark hair and eyelashes.  As she blinks, they fall upon the delicate beauty of her cheekbones and lips.  She continues and the stalks become tighter -- she's forced to twist and turn more radically, bending and bumping yet more of the flowers that release swirling cascades of glittering dust, covering her shoulders and resting on the small of her back.  It's increasingly difficult to see.  A tendril from a stalk catches her hair, which causes her to gasp in fear and turn too quickly -- bending a stalk nearly to breaking and further tangling her hair in another.  

Turning again and again, nearly blinded by the silting dust, feeling the tendrils not just catching in her hair but seeming to reach for her.  She hears her own heart racing in her ears, eyes watering in panic, she's suddenly seized with the urge to sneeze.  

"Achoo!" she lets go with a giant wracking sneeze.  "Achoo! Achoo!," two more and she's doubled over but pushing forward toward a faint light without much regard for the flowers or the pulling and snagging of her hair as she pushes and rushes to get out of this place.  

Bursting from the Hollyhocks onto a path of pea-sized gravel, she fails to notice the large stones that border it.   She trips hard and launches face down from the flower forest and lands on the gravel with a thud.  

"Oouff!" the air knocked from her lungs leaving her momentarily stunned, frozen face down, arms out to each side, one shoe above her head, resting where it landed after flying from her foot.  

"Well shit," she mutters.  

Rolling over and gazing at the full moon, recovering her composure and learning how to breath again, she sat up, slowly surveying the damage.  It appeared she was okay with the exception of a severely bloodied knee.  Carefully picking two small stones from the cut, she wipes upward, smearing but removing most of the blood that has run down her shin, then realizes she has no where to wipe it.  

Staring at her bloody fingers, shining slick in the moonlight, she quickly poped them in her mouth, licking them clean of blood.  A soft, low moan lofts across the path from the darkness of the woods.  So faint she's unsure she heard it, yet every hair on the her neck stands straight up and she sits stock still, listening.

It is the eyes she sees first, peering at her through the foliage. They were piercing green and cat like, but much too large to be those of an animal. Her heart began to race. Feeling you are not alone is eerie, but knowing it is terrifying.

The eyes seemed to blink out as leaves began to shuffle; what ever was hiding in the shadows was coming for her now. She knew it, and she was frozen in fear. But was that not what she had come there for? To be consumed by what ever evil dwelled there. Was she not seeking this evil to end her suffering by releasing her unto death’s sweet bliss? An act she herself could not seem to perform although her many efforts.

Audrey swallowed her terror and pursed her lips in defiance. She had no time to rise from the ground to meet her end, but she squared her shoulders and lifted her head high. 

But the creature that stepped out of the darkness was no monster. It was a man. A man, who was so peculiarly dressed for his time he seemed to have just walked out of the past. He was garbed in black pants and a white shirt ruffled at the cuffs and collar. The ensemble was completed with a dark cloak lined in red silk.

He was beautiful. She realized that was a term not normally applied to a male but to say he was handsome would not have done him justice. His hair was raven black, framing his pale features and curling around his neck in long layers. His features were elegant with high cheek bones and full lips that possessed a natural pout. His eyes were an almost cat like piercing green. All of these features were made more pronounced by his pale complexion which might have been chiseled from the purest marble. He was not a tall man, standing only a few inches taller than she, and his frame was slight. But still his presence demanded attention.

He knelt before her on one knee. He uttered not one word as he procured a lace handkerchief from the folds of his cloak and begin to administer to her wounds. He cleaned the wound the best that could be done with the tools at hand then tucked the cloth back into his cloak. He stood, holding a slender hand down to her.

“Thank you …” she stammered, taking the offered hand. She stood on her own though her knee throbbed. “It is a pleasure to meet you sir, I am …”

“Trespassing” he cut her off abruptly then turned to go.

“I know, I am sorry” but her apologies fell on deaf ears, the man continued on. “Wait … please.” she begged him in confusion. Who was this man that suddenly appeared out of know where. Did he live here, was there indeed a dwelling in this dense forest. Or was he some spectral being that had refused to pass from this world to the next. The latter seemed more likely to her. Regardless, she had to no more of him. “Please … do not leave me alone out here … it is dark and I fear I shall loose my way.”

He did stop then but he did not retreat back to her, he merely moved his body in a half turn to lock her in his emerald gaze. “You managed to find your way in, I am quite sure you are capable of finding your way out again. However, if you wish not to be alone, I suggest you follow.” He turned abruptly and continued on his way.

Audrey wanted to defy him and return to the village; but she found herself flopping along the gravel path behind him, limping with only one shoe on, leaving her other shoe behind her forgotten.

He kept his same steady pace, never looking back to see if Audrey followed or not. It seemed not to matter to him one way or the other.

Audrey for her part tried to quicken her pace to close the distance between them. But the man’s long stride was too much competition for Audrey’s small gape. They walked for some time. Both sides of the path were lined with tall flowering hollyhocks, making it impossible to discern anything about what lay beyond. Audrey could hear the faint sound of falling water; it seemed to grow louder as they traveled though she never saw its source. She thought she caught a glimmer of moonlight on a body of water’s surface but she was not sure.

When the man finally stopped at the end of the pebbled path, allowing Audrey to catch up, her small lungs were given out. Her breath came in ragged puffs and her calf muscles burned. The man seemed not effected by the trek at all.

“My Home” the man extended his hand in front of him in a sweeping gesture.

Audrey looked up where indicated and what little breath she had was caught in her throat.

Seeming to appear out of no where, a massive stone castle loomed before them where moments ago only trees stood. It rose from the leaf littered forest floor and then disappeared in the canopy of leaves and branches above. The stones of the fortress were slick with age in many places. The castle was partially obscured by moss and clinging vines of ivy, making the structure almost seem part of the forest itself.

He moved forward and opened a large wooden door, its frame set inside a stone archway. He held the door for Audrey’s admittance then closed the portal behind them. They were plunged into darkness.

A light hiss sounded in Audrey’s ears.  Then she jumped as a pair of Emerald green eyes set in a pale face appeared next to hers.

The man twisted his lips in a delighted smile. “My apologies. Your eyes shall adjust to the candle light in a moment.”

The man took the lead again and began venturing deeper into the castle. Audrey was sure to keep up, as the small circle of light provided by the candle he carried did little to banish the darkness.
The floors, walls, and ceilings were comprised of aged stone, slick and gray. In many places the smooth stone gave way to an elegantly carved relief depicting various mythical creatures.  Ancient suits of armor stood proud guard from arched alcoves.

Brilliantly colored rugs lay scattered over the stone floor while richly embroidered tapestries adorned the walls. Ornately carved sconces clung to the walls through out granting the dim corridors their only light.

“Do watch your step” the man instructed as he led them up a long winding staircase. Audrey looked below her, the shadows seemed to swallow up where they had been. And then as she gazed ahead, the stair’s top faded into the shadows above.  It almost gave her a sense of vertigo, as if the staircase was suspended in mid air. As they continued upwards Audrey thought the stairs might spiral on for eternity.

The stairway eventually led them onto a landing with several corridors snaking off in different directions. They ventured but a few feet down one of these passages and then came to their destination.

The man pushed open a heavy wooden door, the portal creaked under the effort.  Audrey followed the man into a massive chamber. Audry moved further into the room and found her self no less enchanted with that chamber than she had been the rest of the castle. This room seemed to be a large study small. In the fireplace a roaring fire blazed accompanying the wall sconces in giving the room a soft warm glow. The stone walls were completely obscured by towering bookshelves. The floors in this chamber were also sprinkled with thick richly colored rugs of varying shapes and sizes. The room was sparsely furnished. Dominating the room was a immense ornately carved desk made of polished mahogany. On either side of the desk there stood tall and proud a Queen Anne chair upholstered in a plush maroon velvet. The only other furnishing in the room was an easel, a blank canvas perched upon it.  

The man moved across the room to stand behind the grandiose desk. His movements were fluid, graceful. He turned his back upon Audrey and the room. His arms folded behind his back he stoically studied a pair of French doors through which he could see the moonlight beyond.

Audrey approached one of the book shelves so she might scan the spins of the many books housed there. Most of them were incredibly old, and though she longed to touch them she was afraid they might fall to dust in her hands. A lover of books, she was enchanted by the ranging titles and the timeless quality of the tomes.

“My God, these must be original printings.” She sighed in longing.

“They are.” The man said in reply.

Audrey jumped with freight. He was standing right next to her although she had not heard him cross the room. It was almost as if he had materialized out of thin air.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you.” He painted on a smile that seemed genuine but yet cold somehow.

Audrey shivered.

“Ah, I am a most appalling host it seems, please …” he gestured to a settee placed near the hearth. “Warm your self by the fire. Wine?” he crossed the room again to his desk and filled two crystal goblets from a bejeweled decanter. “You will forgive me, you are the first visitor here in many long years.”

“Of course.” Audrey took the offered seat by the fire but she did not recline. She sat stiffly on its edge, her hands knotted together in her lap.

The man glided across the room, his footsteps appearing as though they never touched the stone floor beneath him.

“My name is Sir Nicholas Rochester.” He announced with out fashion, handing Audrey a goblet of wine. “Welcome to my home, Audrey … may I call you such? Or do I presume too much?” He flashed a charming smile.

“It’s …its fine” she offered a smile she did not feel, as her mind tried to recall when she had told this man her name. Surely she had, she had just forgotten. After all she was quite shaken from the fall and the man’s sudden appearance. Feeling she must say something to engage him in conversation she issued forth the only words she could think of. “Your garden is really quite remarkable.”

“Thank you, you are very kind to say.” He offered her a very pleased smile. “You saw just a small portion of it I am afraid. I would be happy of course to give you the full tour if you should be so inclined.”

“I would like that very much” Audrey took a sip of wine, the dark red liquid warmed its way down her throat, warming her body and setting her nerves more at ease. She immediately followed it with another, deeper drink from the crystal goblet. “I have always had great interests in plants, especially flowers. You have chosen some interesting specimens.”

“I have precious little to occupy my time; my garden is thus a labor of love. I do so adore beauty in all its forms.”

“Painting included?” she gestured to the easel holding the blank canvas.

The smile he had portrayed to this point faded quickly away. “I shall be glad to give you a tour of the garden, but not this night. The hour grows late and I have matters of business to attend to before I take my rest.” He deposited his wine glass on a nearby table and proceeded towards the door. As if it was merely an afterthought he turned towards her once more.

“I shall send my valet to attend to you” he informed her coldly, “He will see you safely off my estate, or if you wish not to travel by night he will provide you with suitable accommodations. I am afraid I must make one point very clear.” He casts his green eyes on her with such intensity she physically shrunk away from his gaze. “I shall be engaged until tomorrow evening. If you wish, you may remain until my return and I will happily provide you with the tour of my garden so promised. But you are not to enter into it alone, nor are you to wander about this castle without my company. This is an immense estate, if you decide to wander off and become lost I shall not waste a moment of my time, nor that of my valet, looking for you. I do hope that is clear. I bid you a good night Audrey.” With a dramatic bow and a twirl of his cape he was gone. 

Chapter 3

Rural England, Modern Day
She walked alone in the moonlight, her head bent down, listening to the steady slap of her bare feet on the packed earth of the road. In one hand she carried her sandals, swinging them back and forth absently. The ruffled skirt of her light sundress danced around her legs in the evening breeze.  Her pale skin seemed to glow in the light of the full moon. Raven colored tresses lightly brushed her delicate shoulders. From a far she might have been mistaken for a child, so small of frame and stature was she.
Walking this road from the village for the fifth time in as many nights, she surveys her shoes, low slung golden slippers with soft embroidered flowers, cheerful when not caked in dust and desperation.  A sense as sure as her bones drives her to this place night after night.  A sense this place will deliver her from this life, that the monster within whether corporeal or myth will end this suffering.
The dirt lane had carried her miles beyond the small village where she had been lodged for the past few weeks. She now traveled with only the company of wilderness on either side. The sounds of animals scurrying and foraging had stopped a mile ago.  Other than her own footfalls, the trees made the only sounds. The trees rustled in the breeze as if they whispered to one another.  They seemed to have eyes too.
Her steady footfalls soon brought her to her destination.  She had visited this site every night, when the weather permitted, while staying in the village. She often took long walks to clear her head and it was on one of these that she had first stumbled upon the place. Her Previous visits brought her along the stone walls surrounding the property. The walls towered over her small form though if she stood back from them she could see over them somewhat. She has also found several small holes along the walls. But just as she saw above the gate, through the holes all she saw was weeds, over growth, and knotted trees. Also on most nights a strange mist seemed to lie over the land.
Passing the mile-long stone wall again, step by step, it creeps by in her peripheral vision and once again she’s standing in front of the massive gate, the forest along the drive concealing whatever lies within. The name plate was so old it could no longer be read.  A thick chain, darkened with age wound through the bars of the gate joining them together and permanently closed by a large and rather antique pad lock. The lock, curiously, secured the gates from the inside.
She could not see a house but she knew there had to be one. Or perhaps it had burnt down or succumbed to age long ago.  An image flashed in her mind of a foundation littered with a toppled chimney and other debris. A shake of her head sent this idea fluttering away.  There was a house, she was sure of it. On some nights she had visited, if the moon was just right she swore she saw the stones of some structure glittering beneath the tangles of ivy and kudzu. But when she looked more closely all she could see was foliage. It felt to her as if the tangled masses clustered more closely together to hide the mystery beneath.
She stared though the bars as a feeling of profound melancholy swept over her. She wondered what grand halls had once stood there, who had once lived and loved there.  Had Lords and Ladies once hosted lavish parties here? Did children once laugh and frolic in now over grown orchards?  Closing her eyes, her sharp imagination could almost see it, the grand castle standing proud in the spring morn, the gardens in bloom. She could almost smell the flowers and hear the laughter of children.
Opening her eyes once more, she frowned. She had always found herself saddened by houses that were abandoned and forgotten until time itself gobbled them up.
She had often been drawn to forgotten places of old but this one held a quite different fascination to her. The next morning after first discovering the place she questioned many villagers concerning its origin and history. She learned nothing of either. If she asked a child of this place they would passionately insist with child like wonder and fear, that it was indeed haunted. The local gossips would eagerly spin a similar yarn sometimes also including rumors of the homes original life and demise. But these tales were as varied as snowflakes in a winter sky. The only one thing they had in common was their total fabrication. But if she asked the oldest members of the nearby villagers they would answer her inquiry in quite a different manner than the examples above.  The “old-timers” whispered of a great evil that dwelled there.  Then they would speak no more of the subject and advise her to do the same. Many would be seen crossing themselves as they hurried away from her.
Night after night she had come, seeking answers, seeking an end to her curiosity. Or was she searching for something else?
Her journey to the village was drawing to an end. She would soon return to her home where her normal life beckoned. Where her prison eagerly awaited her return.  
But tonight she was still free of that life. And she would make the most of it.  She would learn what was behind these locked secluded gates; she would learn the secrets held within.  
Taking bars in both hands, she rested her forehead against the cool iron, closing her eyes and visualizing a scramble over the wall.  It’s high, but she’s feisty and could probably do it.  Something stops her – and has for the past four nights.   What, she doesn’t know – she can’t quite put a finger on it. She found she could go no further in good conscience though she knew not why. It was apparent the place was deserted, abandoned and forgotten long ago.  Who should be offended if she let herself in and took a quick look around? Try as she might she could not convince herself to trespass upon the solemn place uninvited.   Frustrated, she kicked at the dirt, a single tear squeezes from the corner of her eye which she wipes away angrily with the back of her hand.  Composing herself by stepping back and smoothing her dress with both hands, she’s resigned to find some other way to end her life on this earth.
“You win” she whispers to the gate through gritted teeth and turns on her heels, head high, to make the several-mile journey back to the village before daybreak.
She wrinkles her brow at the small, rusty door that seemed to have been there forever yet she’d never seen it before.  Hidden in plain sight. It seemed insane to her own ration mind but she knew in her heart she had been given her invitation. Whatever secrets did lie beyond the stone wall, they wanted to be found. And they wanted her alone to find them.
 So heavily encrusted with age it seemed absurd that the small gate should open but as she pushed it tentatively with just the fingertips of one hand, it yawed open, hinges whining in full.  Her mouth gaped at the sudden stroke of luck and she didn’t hesitate to step straight through into the inky darkness.  Her heart was pounding yet she still found the wherewithal to push the door closed again.
Standing stock still and blinking hard to clear the darkness like fog, knowing only time would allow her eyes to adjust, if at all.  Slowly a path through the heavily wooded forest revealed itself, the underbrush weak and spindly from the lack of light which is not surprising given this is a forest of Ash.  Ash require abundant light and so stretch high above the forest floor to find it and rob all others as best they can.  A proud species, Ash are white and have papery bark not unlike Birch but they are unique in that a forest is not a collection of trees vying for light, but rather a single, connected tree with an incomprehensibly large root system.   So, it stretches for the light as a singular being, even leaning over roads and paths; blotting out the sunlight below, leaving a forest brooding with lack of underbrush.  Even in this meager light, the mighty Ash glows a soft, ghostly white.
Large flat stones engulfed in moss, and submerged in dark, dank earth, but tufted here and there with verdant Hostas that grow lush and strong very low light.  Large and small, some variegated with white stripes, but most broad simple dark green, the large long triangles swirl from a center focus from which a large stalk protrudes with tiny flowers, but not tonight.  Tonight the Hostas are bare.   Her eyes adjusting further, she can make out the subtle white punctuation of Trillium along both sides of the path, their porcelain blossoms capturing what little light there is a throwing it back to show the way down the path.
Suddenly delighted by the delicate, yet architectural tri-petaled Trillium, she steps down the path to get a closer look, lifting her skirt to kneel bare knees on the damp mossy stone.  She reaches with one hand to cup the delicate white three-petaled blossom that fades gently to pink in the center.  Behind it, the dark green leaves hold tightly to cheeky red-hued stems, a color almost black in this light. 
“So beautiful” she whispers to herself in the dark.
Her eyes focus beyond her hand to the earthen bed below where a golden, spotted banana slug as large as a grown man’s thumb slimes his way to the Hosta, a preferred meal.  She reaches out with one finger to touch the cool slickness of his back, and then push the finger to her thumb until they are both sticky against each other.  She smiles for the first time in a long while.
Abruptly, she senses a change, unsure why but the small hairs on the base of her neck stand straight up.  A faint murmur, not quite a sound, and flash of green in her peripheral vision draw her eye down the path, but there is nothing there.  Not that she can see in the smothering darkness.  Smiling and exhaling to calm herself, she peers again into the deep darkness of the path and notices something odd.  A Daylily, twenty feet away, in full perfect bloom.  A Daylily, bright and cheery and yellow.
“What the…” she whispers again, not sure why she’s whispering.
Again the familiar wrinkle of her brow as she rises to go to it, looking up to the dense canopy overhead and puzzling how this flower is not only here but in bloom with it requires more than a little bright sunlight to do so. 

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Chapter 2



The first thing Charlie became aware of was the heat. It was not an overwhelming heat, but soft and welcoming. The second thing was the smell of food. His eyes slowly opened, and the first thing he saw was flames. He was lying before a massive stone hearth, his bedding was a soft rug of some Persian design.

“Janie?” Charlie sat up tentatively and scanned his surroundings. The walls of the chamber were made of the same stone as the hearth. The stone walls were adorned with a few scattered windows, all rounded in a way to flow with the stone. Nothing but the dark night beyond could be seen through the clear glass. On one wall there stood two stone archways, each owning wooden doors that were pulled shut. On another was spanned a much larger archway, this one having no door, revealed only gaping darkness.

Janie sat on a high wooden stool pulled up to an island in the center of the room. It too was constructed of stone, though its surface was a slab of pure black marble. Above it suspended from a wooden rack were pots and pans of various shapes and sizes. They were in someone’s kitchen. But who’s?

Charlie rose to his feet and pulled up a stool next to Janie. Janie’s thin arm curled around a steaming bowl of some stew, apparently the source of the pleasing aroma that had woken Charlie.

“Finally awake then?” she chided him cheerfully, juices running down her chin. 

“What … where are we?” Charlie glanced down at her bowl, his stomach rumbling.

Janie had no need to answer, their host materialized through the archway. He was a large man, easily surpassing six feet. He was barrel chested, his arms were the size of two of most men’s. Though he was a hulk of a man, not an ounce of it was fat. This man was solid muscle. While his size was intimidating his facial features were softer, and kind. His hair was blonde, shoulder length but neatly trimmed. His eyes were a sparkling blue. He possessed a smile that lite up his entire face.

“Ah I see you are awake young Sir.” His voice echoed through the chamber as he moved across the room to a large pot suspended in the fire. He swung the pot towards him and filled a bowl. He swung the pot back in the fire then crossed the room to place the bowl in front of Charlie. “You will be needing a spoon” he smiled, placing a sterling silver soup spoon at Charlie’s hand.

“Sir” Charlie began, “If you please … you are you?”

“Charlie, don’t be rude!” Janie scolded him, “He is Max.”

“It is quite all right my Lady, he has a right to his questions.” Max moved to sit across the island from Charlie. “Please, eat and I shall answer whatever you wish to know.”

Charlie dipped his head into a slight nod and took up his spoon. He took only a tentative sip at first, but his immense hunger betrayed him and he began to devour the steam in ravenous gulps. When the bowl was empty Max wordlessly filled it again.

“As your sister revealed, my name is Max. I came upon the pair of you sleeping out in the forest so I brought you here. It is not safe in that forest at night, surely you have heard of those cured woods? I took you away from there. You shall stay the night here and tomorrow I shall take you home.”

“You live here?” Charlie asked in between gulps.

“No, this is not my home; I am merely the caretaker here. My master is quite a busy man, I see to his home when he is away and see to his needs when he is here.” Max smiled then cleared away the bowls. “Enough talk, the hour grows late, bed now for the both of you.”

Charlie and Janie slid from their stools and returned to the rug in front of the hearth. Max provided them with warm blankets and soft feather down pillows.

“Fear not, little ones, you are safe here” Max whispered, but the children were all ready asleep.

Max turned toward the archway through which he had entered. A pair of cat like eyes glowed in the darkness there. Max bowed, and then made his way out of the chamber by way of one of the wooden doors. 

                                                       **********


Somewhere between dreams and reality, Charlie shivered from the cold. He pulled the blanket tighter around him, “Did the fire go out?”  He mumbled in his sleep.


“Wake up Charlie!” Janie shook her brother “Wake up!”

Charlie opened his eyes and, blinded by the bright sunlight, squeezed them shut again.

“Charlie!” Janie insisted, “We have to get home, Mother will be worried.”

“I’m awake.” Charlie whispered opening his eyes again, this time more tentatively.  He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. He rubbed his tired eyes and forced his mind to clear. Seeing his surroundings clearly now he saw much to his surprise he was outside, not in a cozy kitchen. There was no fire’s warmth; his bed was not a Persian rug but a supple bed of grass. The blanket he clutched to his person was no blanket at all but his own jacket. But most curiously of all, he and his sister were no longer trapped inside the stone walls, but were lying in the grass before the main gates.

“It was all a dream?” Charlie mused to himself, getting to his feet. Janie was already standing in the road waiting for him, watching him disapprovingly. Apparently he was not moving as fast as she would have preferred.

Charlie slipped on his jacket as he made his way on to the road and joined his sister. They began to journey home in silence. Charlie for his part was trying to make sense of things. It must have been a dream, all of it. That was, after all, the only logical explanation. And it filled him with bitter disappointment. In the dream he might have been closer to learning what fate had befallen his father. But now he was forced to realize he had failed. He had come all this way, placed his sister in danger, and all for nothing.

Charlie shoulders slumped in defeat and he shoved his hands in his pockets. The left was empty as it had been before, but the right was not. His eye brows wrinkled in curiousness, it felt like a coin purse. He gingerly pulled the object out of his pocket just enough to tell it was indeed a coin purse. It was heavy with coin as well. He quickly shoved the purse back into the pocket and scanned the empty road and tree line as if some thief were harbor there ready to jump out and take his new found treasure. Charlie glanced over his shoulder to the gates one last time.

 “Lets hurry” Charlie, who had been dragging behind up to this point, quickened his pace and passed his sister.

It was not until Charlie was safe at home that he closely looked at the purse. He gave it to his mother as he explained where they had been and all that had happened. She cried with worry for her children and scolded them. Then she cried with joy and hugged them both for in that small purse were enough coins to keep them for many years. No longer would they go hungry.

She made them promise never to go back to the cursed forest. And they both promised they would obey. This was fine with Charlie because he had no need to ever go back there now. The coin purse was embossed with the initials CNM. Charles Nelson Mason, his father.

Chapter 1 (cont.)

“Can we go now?” Janie whined.

Charlie moved along the wall in the direction they had come but heading home was not his intention. He began to study every inch of the wall, if there was a way over he would find it. Janie followed obediently behind him. It was actually Janie who saw the little gate first.

“Look there Charlie” she pointed.

Somewhat annoyed at her interruption, Charlie looked up with a sigh, and then his expression quickly changed from irritation to wonder.

The gate was fashioned in the same material and design as the main gates though this one was much smaller. As the pair approached they could see the metal was much more corroded with rust and age; it seemed unlikely that it would allow them entrance any more than the other.

Though neither of them voiced a concern, both children wondered how it had been possible to have missed the gate before. They would have passed it. Gates simply do not just appear out of this air.

The pair drew strength from each other’s touch and closed the remaining distance between them and the portal.

“Charlie look.” Janie whispered, slipping her hand once more into her older brother’s.

“I see it.” Charlie’s voice was shaky, though he tried to hide it. Not only was this small gate not secured with chains, the door was slightly ajar. The gap was small but enough for the children to slip through.

They passed through the entrance single file, hands still clasped, Charlie leading. The thick canopy of leaves blotted out much of the lingering daylight. The failing like gave life to shadows which danced and skittered around the trees. A swirling mist crawled across the forest floor. The ground beneath the children’s feet was soft, sponge like, each footfall created a soft sucking sound.  

Janie’s scream pierced the silence, as something reached out of the darkness.  Janie’s hand slipped from her brother’s.

“Janie!” Charlie whipped around, his heart in his mouth. In his mind’s eye he already knew what he would see. There would be only emptiness where his sister stood only moments before. He could see a small scrap of her dress clinging to a branch, and a few broken brambles where the monster had drug her small body into the forest. His sister was gone and it was his fault. And when the monster came back for him, Charlie would join her in death. 

“Sorry” Janie frowned, trying to dislodge the branch from her torn dress. “I …” tears began to fall, leaving tracks down her dirty cheeks. “I thought the monster had me.”

“It’s alright” Charlie sighed, relieved, though his heart still pounded. It had been selfish to allow his sister to follow. He should have fought harder to send her home. He had found solace in her company; her innocence and love banished his fear. But if a great evil truly dwelled here, she was in danger. “Let’s go ok. I will walk you back to the road.”

“We are going home?” Janie sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“You are.” Charlie snapped the branch holding his sister then took Janie’s hand and started back towards the gate. He would have sworn they had only moved a few yards from the small gate, yet it was nowhere to be seen. Charlie continued on assuming the exit was only obscured by the dense forest. The pair stumbled through the brush for some time until the massive stone wall blocked their progress. Charlie stopped, his breath escaping in warm puffs.


“We must have gotten turned around.” Charlie scanned the forest looking for any sign of the way out. Nothing. He decided the best course was to keep going, they could follow the wall until they reached the gate. 

Logical as this solution was it proved unsuccessful. They walked for what seemed an eternity with nothing but stone on one side and the dark forest on the other. Charlie did not need a break in the canopy to know it was almost full dark. Though exhausted himself, Charlie carried his sister on his back, making it even more difficult to maneuver through the thick underbrush. Charlie had grown too weary to speak, Janie cried softly.

Charlie had already resigned himself to the knowledge they were not going to find a way out until morning. It was much too dark now, the longer he pushed on the more treacherous the land would become. He had his sister to worry about.  If Charlie fell and broke an ankle who would see Janie safely out of that God forsaken forest. Charlie scanned the thickening darkness for some place that could offer them some small measure of shelter. Most importantly he wanted a spot where nothing could sneak up upon them in the night.

He soon found a massive tree whose trunk seemed to be hollowed out, perhaps the former home of some woodland creature. He gingerly sat is sister back upon her feet and inspected the potential shelter. It would do.

“Why are we stopping?” Janie rubbed at her tired eyes.

“It’s too dark to go one. It’s ok, we will be safe here.” Charlie assured her, though he himself was not convinced. He took off his jacket then sat down and burrowed his back into the tree as far as he could. He then tucked his sister safely in into his lap and used his jacket to cover them both.

“I don’t wanna sleep here Charlie.” Janie was again once the verge of tears.

“Why not?” he smiled with a cheerful he did not feel in the least. “It’s like camping isn’t it? Remember when father would take us with him when he would hunt? We slept in the woods then and that was fun.”

“But these woods are scary” she issued a small whimper.

“Don’t be scared. You get some sleep and I will keep watch see.” Charlie stroked her long matted hair.

“You promise not to fall asleep?” Janie’s words were spread across a yawn.

“Promise” Charlie had no intention of sleeping in that cursed forest. He would watch and protect his sister until dawns first light, then he would find a way out of there.

Janie drifted into a sound peaceful sleep only small children can. Charlie shifted slightly, not enough to wake his sister, but enough to clear the sleepiness from his mind. Now that he was no longer moving or powered by the adrenalin of fear he found himself exhausted.  How easy it would be to close his eyes he thought, how wonderful. Only for a second he thought, his heavy lids sliding shut. He forced his eyes to open wide, shifting his body again. He had to stay awake.

When Charlie saw the catlike eyes glowing through the lower branches of the canopy he was positive he had fallen asleep. He was dreaming, and he had fallen into a nightmare. Terror twisted his insides. He tried to tell himself the eyes belonged to a stray cat perched in one of the massive tree’s lower branches. But the eyes were too large to be feline, and they shone with an intelligence that could not belong to any in the animal kingdom. The eyes seemed to come closer, and Charlie realized in horror the creature was not crouched in a tree, it was standing erect, and moving towards him.

Charlie wanted to pick up his sister and flee but he was paralyzed, and he knew he would never out run the creature if he tried.  Charlie met the cat eyes with his own. As the creature drew near Charlie felt his hold on this world slipping away. After several attempts to keep his eyes from slipping closed, they finally betrayed him. His consciousness floating out from under him, he began to fall …. spiraling down into the dark depths below.

Chapter 1



Rural England, 1932


The young boy walked down the abandoned dirt road, dust puffing up from under his feet as he moved over the dry ground. At his sides his hands were small balled fists. He forced upon his face a look of determination he did not totally feel. 

Though it was still early yet for sunset, the light was fading from the sky above him. It was as if the sun itself refused to shine down upon this cursed place.  Still, the boy traveled on.

“But Charlie … Gran said we should never come this far, and its going to get dark soon.” A small feminine voice pleaded from behind him.

Charlie halted his steps to turn in the road to face her where she had been following him from several yards back. “Janie go home!” He scolded his younger sister much too harshly and felt guilty for it immediately.  Janie was a small wisp of a girl even for the tender age of seven. Her ragged dress hung from her under nourished frame, the hem stopping just above scraped dirty knees. Tendrils of blonde hair had escaped from their braid and swirled about her gaunt face. Her lower lip quivered slightly.

“I am sorry Janie but you should not have followed me.” Charlie pleaded for forgiveness with his eyes.

“I … I was worried.” She replied in a small voice as she began moving towards him. Charlie waited for her to catch up then he began moving again towards his destination.

“Why are we out here Charlie?” Janie kicked at the dust in the road with her mismatched shoes.

“Because no one is going to call Charlie Mason a coward that’s why!” Charlie insisted boldly, not no one.  “No one will call me a coward like they do Father” he thought but did not say.

“Well who cares what Bobby and them say, what do they know anyway?” Janie made what she felt was a very logical and rather adult point. But her words of wisdom fell on deaf ears.

But to Charlie this journey was about much more than Bobby and the other older boys. It was about walking in his Father’s footsteps. It was about proving everyone in their village wrong. Charlie heard the whispers whenever he passed by. But they were wrong, all of them. His father was not a coward, nor did he abandon them. His father had walked this very path and had never returned. Charlie was determined to prove it.

“Oh you just don’t understand” Charlie shook his head, feeling much more than three years her senior “You’re too young AND you’re a girl.”

“What’s me being a girl have to do with anything?” Janie stuck out her bottom lip and crossed her thin arms over her chest, clearly offended, “and I am old enough to know you shouldn’t care what other people think.

Charlie made no reply. The pair walked in silence. The dirt lane had carried them miles beyond the small village by this point. They traveled with only the company of wilderness on either side. The sounds of animals scurrying and foraging had stopped a mile ago.  Other than their own footfalls, the trees made the only sounds. The trees rustled in the breeze as if they whispered to one another.  They seemed to have eyes too. 
Charlie knew they were getting close. He could tell by the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The sour taste of fear in his mouth.  They reached the top of a rise and there it was. A massive stone wall loomed along the side of the road on their left.  The stones were slick with age, mosses clinging to them in greenish black patches. The wall towered at least eight feet above the weed littered ground. Trees rose from behind the wall to twist in tortured poses. Their branches reached over the top of the wall as if trying to escape their confines. The air smelled foul, reeking of decay and death. Charlie wondered if the wall was built to keep people out or something inside.

“Charlie … I don’t like it here.” Janie’s tiny face wore an expression bordering on terror. “Cant we please go home. I am scared.”

Charlie wanted to scold her for being a baby. He wanted to tell her she was just being silly. But all he could do was manage a small whisper. “Me too Janie.”

Janie pursed her lips, “You are going in there aren’t you?”

“I have too Janie.” Charlie replied solemnly.

Janie slipped her hand quietly into her older brother’s and they continued on. They followed the dirt road; the stone wall loomed on their left blocking out the days fading light. The air seemed to be getting colder as they went. 

When it seemed to the children the wall just ran on forever, the entrance appeared. Rising several feet above the wall two stone pillars broke the smooth surface of the wall. A tall cast iron gate stood between them, its bars making it seem like a gaping jaw. On the other side of the farthest pillar the stone wall continued on, running out of site.

Charlie squeezed his sister’s hand and she squeezed back. They moved off the road and towards the gate.

The stone pillars were elegantly carved in relief depicting fanciful creatures of all kinds. Though faded from time and erosion the mythical creatures still danced and pranced across the stones as if they would come to life any moment. The name plate was so old it could no longer be read.  A thick chain, darkened with age wound through the bars of the gate joining them together and permanently closed by a large and rather antique pad lock. The lock, curiously, secured the gates from the inside.

Peering through the iron wrought gates the children could only see weeds, over growth, and knotted trees. And a strange mist seemed to lie over the land. The smell of decay thicker now.

An unnatural silence permeated the air, not even the trees whispered now.

“How we gonna get in?” Janie’s small voice seemed to boom in the oppressive silence.

Charlie tugged on the gates, the cast iron raked against the chains creating a bone chilling whine. The lock and chain were just as ancient as the gates themselves but neither was going to give way. Undaunted the young boy moved to the stone wall. The walls surface was slick with age, moss, and moisture from the mist. He mounted the wall but to no avail. Finding no foothold, his small form simply slipped back to the weeds below.

“There has to be a way” he murmured to himself.


Saturday, January 22, 2011

Prologue

How does one catalogue a life that has spanned centuries? And more importantly, why would one do so if there is no one left to care? I am alone here.
Perchance it is some human coil that remains inside me. For has it not often been a human need to chronicles one’s life before they meet their end?
Or perhaps I possess some need to revisit the events in my life which have brought me to my inevitable fate. Even now, when all is nearly done, there remains so much I do not understand. I suppose lingering questions matter little now. I have made my choice and shall meet my destiny with bravery and honor.
I have lived longer than any deserve. I have watched time as it passes into history. I have witnessed senseless wars and the rise and fall of countless kingdoms. I have seen both great beauty and the grotesque. I have tried to live my life with honor and failed miserably. I have experienced loss, torment, pain, and death. And I have dealt pain and death to others. But I have also loved, and I have been loved. It is a love that brought warmth to my solitude and chased away the shadows of despair. And now it has brought me to my end.
Sir Nicholas Rochester August 11, 2010