Pretty Poison

One

A single tree stands hunched over in the gardens, a slight breeze rustling the dangling branches littered with iridescent juniper leaves. My eyes flicker over to a single swing, made up of two tethered ropes tightly tied to the ends of a pristinely polished piece of oak wood. The seat glints within the sun, the wind pushing the swing as if it were occupied by an invisible being. I watch for a moment, imagining what it would be like to feel the joys of being pushed on such a contraption; what it would feel like swinging back and forth with the wind intertwining through my flying hair. Such a thought feels invigorating.

The gardens stand vacant, the endless rows of perfectly potted flowers and trimmed bushes remaining untouched. Within the grand windows servants rush their way though, completing their daily duties as they are told to do, as they are expected to do without fail...without complaint. A bird comes to land on the sill, pearching their white feathered body perfectly atop the stone lining of the window, shortly, another joins chirping to the female as if in joyous song, singing to her with a lovely voice. The female rubs up against her partner, clearly in love, the tender bond between the two creatures pure and innocent.

I've wondered how I got here. What I did to end up in such a beautiful yet so mischievous place. What did I do to end up here, staring out of this transparent glass. Everyone here seems to know their place, but why? And why does everyone around me in this place always fake a smile?

There's fifteen of us, I've counted, always moving and always doing something to keep themselves busy...and away from reprimand from the monster. They move so effortlessly around this mansion, cleaning, dusting, rearranging for pristine perfection. Not a single inch of this place goes dirty for more than a minute, the workers constantly on their hands and knees scrubbing away as if their lives depended on it, and in a way...they do.

I fiddle with my duster, intertwining my fingers within the soft feathers, enjoying the sensation it leaves behind on my nerves. A piece of my brunette hair falls over my shoulder, drooping with a small loose curl. I tuck it back behind my ear as I raise my gaze to settle on the outside. A small sigh escapes my lips as my eyes take in the beauty festering below me.

The garden resembles that of Versailles, fountains and grand architecture spanning far off into the land. The cobblestone paths lay peacefully, moss growing in between the cracks and impurities. I can't help but find myself staring back at that tree, a weeping willow which provides temporal shade from the harsh beating sun.

Servants stride along under the covered patio, disappearing for a second behind the pillars that stand eight feet apart. Potted plants full of assorted grasses and roses rest in front of each pillar. A slight breeze ruffles the drooping leaves, weaving its way through the open window panel inches away from me, forcing it lightly into the sandstone exterior of the mansion.

Involuntarily, I reach my hand out of the window to grab it, preventing it from moving yet again as the wind threatens to make a ruckus. But as I do, a strong feminine voice echoes behind me.

"Beatrice! Pulita! Look out the window later, bambina."

I immediately turn my torso to fling my feet back onto the floor, coming face to face with Gianna.

Her clothes are pressed perfectly, not a single wrinkle noticeable. Her shiny blonde hair is pulled back into a tight bun, sitting like a crown atop her head. Her forehead creases as she raises her eyebrows at me, as if silently saying well get a move on!

I stand and begin my chores once again, just as I'm interrupted once more by her stern tone.

"Good lord, bambina, put your hair up! Signore Bianchi does not condone of such sloppiness!" She barks.

"Mi scusi, Gianna," I apologize lightly under my breath, quick to tie my hair back with a worn band wrapped around my wrist.

I see a weak smile take over her thinly pressed lips, her versed face suppressed to sorrow as she watches me closely with considerable distance. It confuses me as to why her demeanor changed so abruptly, from anger to sadness.

I maneuver around the bedroom, whipping my wrist as the feathers dust off the surfaces. Gianna scrutinizes me carefully for another moment, then suddenly leaves without another word, dissipating like cigarette smoke.

I avert my gaze one last time outside the open window, the silk chiffon white curtains elegantly swaying in the breeze. I stare far beyond the garden, out into the expansive farm land that lays beyond the mansion, far beyond that rests the beautiful city of Venice, a place I've always longed to see...longed to escape to.

Perhaps one day.

But right now, my place is here, in this beautiful yet mischievous place.