|
|
by Goddess Rip
The rain poured down in the pitch black forest, as a young maiden searches for shelter of some kind. Her old peasant dress rip in rags, as branches reach out to harm her. She slips and falls in a huge mud puddle, where she lies, now soaked more than ever. As she looks up, lightening races across the sky. She sees, in the distance, a shadow of a house, mansion, castle? She wasn't sure, but felt a sudden push to go there. She rises and shivers her way to the architecture. The rain pours down harder on her, almost causing her to fall to the ground once more. She cries, but the rain soon washed away the relief of the tears to fall down her cheeks. She holds her head down, as she approaches the gates for the structure. She looks up the see that it, and the home within, were larger than she thought. It both frightened her, and took her breath away. She regains herself and tries to open the gates, but they do not budge. Now balling with pain, anger, and frustration, she throws herself against the thick black bars. "Let me in!" She screams. "PLEASE, I beg you, let me have shelter. Even if it is your stables." She cries, "I will not steal from you! I mean no harm! PLEASE!!!" She tries to compromise, "I will work for my keep in the morning. But if you do not let me have shelter, I shall die from this storm..."
Suddenly, the gates open, as if by themselves. "Bless you, bless your souls. You will not regret this, I swear to you, my Lord or Lady. I shall be forever grateful!" She shouts out into the storm. The gates close behind her, as she walks several hundred feet to the house. Her body ached, her knees scratched from her fall, and her limbs bleeding from the forest's monsters clawing at her. She walks up, shaking from the cold, to the giant wooden door. Her dress, hair, and body were covered in muddy rain water, as she knocks on the door. The door opens slowly, as she peers in. She expects the butler to be behind it, but no one was there. From out of no where, a warm gust of wind pushes her inside, almost causing her to fall to the floor. The door closes behind her and locks by itself. She turns around, frightened to see this with her own eyes. She circles the dark room, and freezes in her tracks, as the fireplace bursts and begins to burn with a warm fire. It blinds her for a moment, but as her eyes clear, she sees fresh linens in a chair, as well as a few night gowns, and blankets. All looked so beautiful to her, as she walks closer to the fire place. She quickly undresses, and washes herself at a washing basin next to the chair, which sat the linens. She dries herself, and examines the night gowns. Some were made of the finest silks, while others were made of satin. But one night gown, a simple white little thing, was made of cotton. The young maiden picked up the simple little gown, and clothed her tiny frame with it. Then she looked at the blankets. All were the same, matching the gowns. But one plain white cotton blanket, called to her, as it sat pitifully next to the more expensive fabrics. She picked it up, and warped it around her cold shoulders.
She felt her stomach grow, as she smelled the most delicious of cooking. She looks up to see a lit dining room, and tiptoes in to catch a better glimpse. There she found no one, but a long table dressed with plates and dishes of food. Her mouth watered, as she walked around the cherry oak table. She saw all the food that she remembered making for her landlord's company. Roast, hens, ham, turkey, every meat of the day laid out before her. All kinds of breads and rolls, vegetables, fruits, salads, desserts, and drinks from all around the world, sat happily in front of her. They called to her, "come, join, eat!" She sat down, in one of the large dining chairs, and waited for some one to come and shoo her away, but no one did. She timidly took a sweet roll, and pinched off nibbles of it, afraid to be caught eating at a lord or lady's table. She knew a friend of hers got her hand chopped off for licking chocolate off a spoon once. It was done right in front of the other help, as an example. Soon, the young maiden finished her roll, and become very thirsty. She noticed three glasses in front of her. One was a goblet of the finest red wines. Another one was a glass of milk, and the next was a cup of water. She never had wine before, but knew it was not in her class to drink something so proper. She had just about enough water to last her a lifetime, so she did not want that either. She picked up the glass of milk, and drank it, as if it were the last drink on Earth.
Very soon she felt drowsy, and knew if she did not get up to find a place of rest, she would be sleeping with her head on the nice clean plate in front of her. She quietly got up, and pushed the chair against the table. She felt an erg to climb the stares, by the large, self shutting door, and walk toward them. As she got to the first step, she turned around to look at the beautiful setting on the dining table. But to her amassment, the room was dark, and the table was neatly clean. Thinking she was dreaming, the young maiden climbed the massive staircase to the top. She then stumbles down the dim hallway. Candles lit, and went out as she past then. She did not notice their odd behavior, as she walked. She soon came to an open door, which was lit with a nice fire in its fireplace. She goes in, and lays her simple blanket on a chair beside the door, and climbs into the huge four poster bed. As the rain softens out side her window, the door closes, and she falls into a deep sleep.
As the young maiden slept, a mysterious man walked out from the shadows of her chamber. He stood, ever so still, at the foot of her bed. His clear green eyes studied her wounded, sleeping body as she lies still. He was dressed in fine black evening attire, with a cape. In one hand, he held a black top hat, and in the other he stroked a silver wolf's head, set on top of his shiny, black cane. His long dark red hair was tied back in a black silk ribbon. He looked as if he just came home from a dinner party, and well he did have a habit of making a party out of his dinner. As he watched the young lass, he scratched some dry blood from the sides of his goatee. She slept so peaceful in the old cherry oak four poster, he almost couldn't resist her. His sensitive ears could pick up the pounding of her heart, and the pulsing of her blood, through her young and innocent veins. She breathed faintly as she slumbered, but he could still hear her take in every breath. He licked his fangs, as he came closer to her. He opened his mouth and tasted the air, like a beast-hound of the night. He could taste her sent on his tongue, she tasted so sweet and fresh to him.
He had just come home to find her begging at the gates, and took a special interest in her. He controlled the lands near him, and would capture his victims in the same manner, but on this night, his brother had thrown him a banquet for his birthday. He laughed at his brother's gesture. Neither one could remember how old they were. He was about to let her die out in the storm. He had fed until he was engorged with his food. He didn't feel like having dessert. But he felt his black heart tug as he heard her pleading to him. He let her in and gave her choices of what would make her more comfortable. He tested all his victims, just to see what they would do, or if they were worthy to be his next meal. If they stole and ran from him, he would kill immediately. If they chose expensive things to wear, eat or drink, he would kill them as they slept. He loved the rich blood of run away aristocrat children, and adults who's buggies would get caught on the muddy roads. If they got drunk on his fine wines, it made him drunk when he fed. He loved it! Some victims would drink the water. This told him they were religious, and he would frighten them out of his house. But this maiden did something, he never expected for one her age. Though he knew she was starving, and looked rather poor looking, she chose the simplest of clothes, ate only a sweet roll, and drank just a glass of milk. He never had a maiden do that before.
So he watched her. She looked so beautiful, and angelic to him. He could feel her wounds and bruises on her body. With the slow wave of one hand, all her sores were gone, and all her pain vanished. She stirred slightly, as he walked quietly back to the shadows of her chamber. He would wait to dine on her later. He was curious about her and wanted to know all he could before he would have his fill with her blood.
The young maiden awoke to find the morning sun shining in her room. She squealed and stretched her way awake, and sat up. She panned the large chamber room, and for a moment she forgot where she was. Her realization came to her as she stepped down from the bed. She wondered if she would meet the people of the house, and start her chore of repayment for her lodging last night. She opened her chamber door, and peeped out. No one was in the hallway, but right across from her was an open door to a smaller room. She tip-toed across the floor, to the other door, to get a better look. Inside was the grandest of washing tubs. It was white porcelain, with gold trim. The feet, which held the tub steady, were golden animal claws, the sides of the tub was decorated with painted roses. Steam came from the tub, as water splashed back and forth. She had never seen something so beautiful. She walked cautiously inside, and placed her hand carefully in the water. It flowed nice and warm around her hand, and she had a feeling that this was ment for her. But once she bathed, what about clothing? The young maiden returned to her room to find drying linens, soaps of the finest quality, and a dress, with all its trimmings, laying on the bed. She gasped as she examined the dress with her eyes. This dress was not of the fashion of today. Rather it was something from a century past. The frock was the most beautiful, blue, and cream empire dress she had ever seen. She loved to see paintings of women from the past, as they wore these dresses. But as she looked closer to it, she realized that she had dreamt of being in this exact dress, while dancing with a red headed man, last night. This was both frightening and intriguing to her. "This place is truly enchanted." She whispers to herself, and quickly cleans, and dresses herself.
Soon, the young maiden descended downstairs, to still find no one home. Her stomach growled, as she smelled breakfast waiting for her at the table. A single plate, covered with a sterling silver dome, laid in the same place she sat the night before, as well as, a glass of milk. She smiled, as she looked at the simple setting, then looked around the room. "Good Morning to you!" She called out to whomever had made her breakfast. She sat down, and took off the dome, and placed it beside the plate. She ate happily, wondering if anyone really lived here. Of course someone had to, to prepare her food, and give her fresh clothes. But it still doesn't explain the strange appearance, and disappearance of things. Maybe this place was haunted, and starved to have her company? No matter, she was not at all frightened, only pleased that she was taken in when no one else wanted her. After breakfast, she called out to anyone in the place, to see if she needed to do some chore as payment. But no one answered her.
She thought of going for a walk, outside, but when she tried to unlock the front door, it wouldn't budge. "Well, I do believe that I am stuck inside today. No matter, I shall walk the halls to see what I can find." With that, the young maiden began her self guided tour of the castle. But as she walked, she began to notice that this place was much more strange than she first thought. She knew of some of the castles around Northumbria, and this place did not match the others as it should. The whole interior of the place was modeled, and decorated as modern as the times. Where there should be stone, and cold flooring, there were wooden walls and floors with the finest of carpets. The furnishings were also modern, with furniture, and art pieces placed delicately everywhere. "Hello? Is any one here?" She called out, as she stepped into a large sitting room. The windows were draped in dark red velvet, and the furniture was upholstered in shades of its main color, in order to accent the reddened color of the wooden floor and ivory colored walls. The young maiden walked over to the drapes and pulled a cord, which opened them, and cause the sun to light up the glorious room. "Hello?" She calls, as she pans the room. A piano sets, by itself, at the far end of the room. She smiles as she remembers on of her uncles playing one, just like it, for his Landlords company. When she was younger, and the lords were away, her uncle would bring her to the piano and teach her to play it. Her eyes soon scan over several paintings on the walls, as she walks around the room. She stops short, as she notices the largest painting hanging above the room's fireplace. The painting was of a grand gentleman, with green, almost glowing, eyes. His dark red hair was tied back, and he wore all black. A cape draped ever so boldly around him, as his weight was held up by his cane. He stood with one leg striate, and the other propped up on what first appeared to be a rock. But as she looked close, the rock was that of a skull, and what appeared to be clouds in the background, looked to be of poor screaming souls rising to heaven. This made her shutter, and find a place to sit. This man was in her dream, talking to her and dancing with her, as she slept.
She sat in a chair, just staring at the portrait. She licked her lips, and then cleared her throat, "My name is Anastasia." She looked away from the painting, trying to gather her courage and her words. She soon felt the erg to tell of herself to this painting. It called to her to look back at it, as she turned her head. "I say, my name is Anastasia. I am... was a chamber maid for Mr. Willowbee. I was born in to it. My whole family came from a long line of surfs." She smiles blushingly, "My great grand mother still called us surfs, so I suppose I will as well." She took in a deep breath. "But now, I don?t have family. All died before I was eleven. You might have wondered if I ran away from my Landlord. I did not. He kicked me out of his house, and off his land a few days ago. I have been living in the woods, and trying to find my way to town. I have never been to town, so I wasn't quite sure were I was going." She giggles nervously. "You see, he kicked me out because I wouldn?t bed with him. All the other maids did, but me." She shakes her head slowly. "He was old, and fat, and hairy in some places. And bald where he should have had hair." She almost regretted saying that. She bit at her nails, and tried to recover her lack of manners. "Pardon my words, I was not quite brought up properly. Just enough to know that I should keep quiet. To be honest I have never talked so much." Her cheeks turned hot, as she blushes at the painting. "Do you like music? I know how to play the piano. I'm not that good, but I know the keys." She looks at the man in the painting, and soon feels a push to play.
Anastasia sat and played the piano, for what seemed an eternity. She fell into a trance-like state, which made her play more beautiful than the house had ever heard. The musical notes found themselves floating all over the place, in nooks and crannies, under doors and through key holes, and even bounced down steps of some unknown dark place of the manner. The sound found itself dancing in this dark place, where vermin had made their home. This pitch black pit, cold and dank, began to listen to this wonderful sound, as it moved and swayed to the strike of the piano keys. The music swirled down a black hallway, and spilled itself into a long lost room, where housed the man of this enchanted chastle. It whispered into his sleeping ears, of days gone by, and present now living, and even of dreams of the future. A slight smile grew up on the dead man's lips, and forgotten tears ran down his face, and dampening his ears and hair. Though he had no strength to move, nor speak, he could still hear this youth's words, as she spoke, and hear her gentle playing up on his piano. She, this Anastasia, the one name meaning 'resurrection', had come to resurrect his black heart. He knew of her. He had met her once, when she was a child. He was going to snack up on her fresh child's blood, but she turned to him with eyes of the most deepest of blue. Her chestnut curls feathered her face. She smiled at him, not fearing him once. All of his victims tried to scream before he caught them in a trance, but this one looked at him with such innocence. "Were her eyes still that blue?" He thought in his death dream, as she played on upstairs. "Now that I have remembered, will she remember me?"
Anastasia heard a clock on the mantle striking twelve, as she stopped playing. She shook her head out of the trance, and stood up. She could smell roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions coming from the dining room. She was hungry. She licked her lips and walked down the hall, to the dining room. Again, her plate waited for her as she came to sit. She ate quietly, still a little drowsy. She thought to herself that after lunch, she would go take a short nap. Then she would walk the halls again and see what else she could find to amuse herself. She had given up hope in finding anyone, or even doing chores. This place was spotless, yet no one lived here. As she ate she thought about the events taken place so far. "Maybe I am to serve this place as a keeper. Maybe a guest. It is very nice here, during the day." She thought to herself. "I only hope the storms, in the future, are more peaceful at night."
After lunch, Anastasia went up to her chamber room, climbed into her bed, and fell to sleep. As she slept, Anastasia dreamt of the gentleman in the painting. As in her dream before, they danced to the soft sounds on the piano, playing in the background. She gazed into his clear green eyes, as they danced around the sea of people. As he gazed into her deep blue eyes, he could see through her to her soul. She was older, now, and still fearless to his trance. She took him in willingly, and without hesitation. He wanted her mind, body, and spirit, now! He did not just want her blood to feed upon. He took her hand, as they stopped dancing.
Before she knew it, Anastasia found herself alone with this giant of a gentleman, in a garden filled with roses, lilacs, posies, and other beautiful and fragrent flowers. The sun shown bright in her eyes, as she looked up at him, with such devotion, as if she had always known him her entire life. But he seemed to know more, as he kissed her hand, never leaving her eyes with his. He lead her to a stone seat, and sat next to her. "My sweet Ana." He spoke deep within his throat. "I need you here with me, Ana. I need you to be my eyes in the daylight, for I can not venture outside when the sun is up in the sky." "But, my Lord, you are out here, and it is daylight." He placed his index finger on to her lips. "Please my dear, Anastasia, things are not all as they seem. If you are not willing to be with me... be my eyes in the day... you may leave. Just know that I can not protect you, if you leave me. If you stay, I shall make every dream come true for you." He held her hand tightly, as he scanned her lovely pink face, framed in her chestnut curls. "My Lord, I shall do as you wish. I have no other place I would rather be, then with you." Anastasia smiled at him, innocently. "But, my Lord, I am afraid..." She looked down at her lap. "You have nothing to fear, child, I will not harm you. Nor let anyone else harm you." He told her, as he raised her head up to his. "No, my Lord, I am not afraid of you. I am afraid that I do not know your name." She shed a tear from her embarrassment. He smiles at her, and brushes away the tear. "My name is Marcus, my dear, sweet child. Lord Marcus, if you wish to call me." She smiles at the sound of his name. "Lord Marcus," she whispers softly. "Now I must leave you, child. It's time for you to wake up, and go play in your new home."
Anastasia woke up from her nap, in a peaceful manner. She stretched and sprawled herself all over her chamber bed. As she looked up and studied the craftsmanship of the bed's wooden canopy, as she grinned at the thought of the gentleman in her dream. She turned to look out her chamber window to find that the sun still shown bright outside. She sat up, walked to the open curtains, and tried to open her window, but the lock would not budge. She sighed, as she ran her small, delicate fingers through her hair. She noticed, on the mantle of the chamber's fireplace, was a small clock, just like to one in the sitting room. It only said that it was 12:50. "Surely I have been asleep longer than twenty minutes." She told the clock. She shrugged her shoulders, and went to her dressing table. She sat down, for a moment, and watched her reflection in the mirror as the brushed her long chestnut curls. They danced as the brush pulled away from them. After, she left her chamber room, and went to explore more of the house.
She peeked in several rooms, while she hummed the piano tune. Even her quiet, soft voice could be heard by Marcus' ears, as he slumbered in his death sleep. He hoped that his visit in her dreams helped any fears she had of him, or the castle. He could hear her thoughts, and her foot steps, as she passed every room. Even though she was content with her exploration, he could sence that she was in need of some activity. Like he knew of her hunger for food and provided her meals, he chose a brightly lit room and placed an embroidery kit in the middle of it. Anastasia noticed the room immediately, and walked happily over to the stretched cloth, small seat, and basket of sowing tools. "Sing, child, and make me something beautiful." He told her with his mind. But, to Ana, it seemed to have been her own thoughts telling her to create. She sat, stitched, and sang the most beautiful of songs. Songs the Lord had never heard in all his centuries of unliving. She had many talents, and one being able to make up words, poems, and sing them as if they came striate down from heaven itself and danced out of her mouth. Tears flowed, again, out of the dead man's eyes. Never had he heard such beautiful music, not even when he went to the opera. He wanted so much to be with her, but was afraid that she might fear his physical form. He had to leave as soon as dark fell, so he could feed. He did not want to feed up on her, for she was to be his link to the daylight.
"Oh, what would brother Kane think of me?" He thought to himself. His brother had maidens serving him during the day, but all were bitten by him so he could have better control over their souls. He could also keep track of them, just in case they decided to run from him. Or get accused of being witches if they were to accidentally slip and show their markings. Once night would fall, he could turn them into vapor, and they could float home undetected. But Marcus, though older, could not help his craving to kill quickly. He did not think it wise to create others unless it was necessary, but to him it never was. As he heard Ana sing, Marcus had a sudden craving for show girls. They drank the sweetest of wines, and once they danced it made their blood hotter. "I shall go to London this night, and feed on one." He thought to himself. "I shan't be long, I wish to watch Ana's activities tonight."
Very soon, it became dark, and Anastasia finished her supper. She had picked up a book of John Donne's poetry, and settled by the sitting room fire. She had been self taught by order of her Miss' child so she could do the brat's schoolwork for him. She had done so well that it caused a strange chaos in her Landlord's manner. The child was pronounced a genus by his tutor, and was sent to the finest boarding school in England. But once he got there, he flunked every subject he took. His parents found out, by the head master, that their son couldn?t even spell his name right, let alone read or write. When they found out he was using Anastasia they sent her to her last Landlord. They told everyone that their son just fell so ill after he left for school and had to come back home. It was most shameful for a young man, at this time, to be uneducated. And to find out that a young female house maid was doing his work for him, was just a travesty, in itself. But, still the Miss cared for Ana, dearly, and never said a word about her education level to her new Landlord.
As she read, Marcus awoke from his death sleep, and appeared in the shadows of the sitting room. He could hear her mind, as she read, and envisioned Donne's poetry. He smiled as she read "The Flea", for she could not quite figure out what Donne was trying to say. Marcus gave her the images she needed, and as she reread the poem, her face blushed the most red of color for her pink cheeks. He soon felt his calling to leave her, and disappeared deep into the shadows.