Music is "Organization XIV" by Yoko Shimomura, arranged by Project Destati.
Once upon a time...ah, those sweet words that signal you're about to read a fairytale. They're comforting, are they not? A tried and true sign that you'll read a story with a good ending, a "happily ever after." Bah.
I won't say this story throws that trope out the window, because that itself is a trope, but since this is my own story, I suppose I have some say over what makes a "happily ever after" for me.
My step-father married my mother when I had just turned eight years old, so my sisters and I moved into his home shortly after. He himself had one daughter, so of course, she was destined to be a spoiled child. When we first arrived at his home, he only had eyes for that child, who of course was all smiles and laughter. Ridiculous. My father would never have put on such a display with my sisters. Even Mother thought he was too much and ushered my sisters and I inside the house, away from their display of affection.
My mother and stepfather loved each other very much, however. Regardless of what the people in our village said, it wasn't a marriage of convenience or even for the meager fortunes they both shared. They were both widowers that found love again. Nothing unusual about that. Nothing.
All that changed, however, when my mother died suddenly.
Eliza ran through the halls, trying every door handle she could. "Come on, come on," she said, almost flying down the carpeted path. She had no idea what was in store for her that night, but a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach told her it wasn't going to be a pleasant night for her...or the monster.
Will my fate be like the rest of the people the king's sentenced here? If it isn't death, what is it?
Finally, one of the door handles gave way. It broke off in her hand as she opened the door, so she simply left it off and slammed the door behind her.
She was safe. As long as no one could use the door, there wasn't an issue of it being locked or not. She was protected from "he", whoever the man was.
Finally alone with her thoughts, she struggled to process the events of the last few hours.
Why did he just...let her go after she attempted to murder him? From the tales she had heard (rumors of course, since no man or woman sent inside the mansion ever returned), a cruel, mindless creature resided within these walls, one who left no one alive. But then there was the king's promise...
She turned her focus to her new surroundings, which were a four poster bed, a chest of drawers – well, a chest of drawer, only one drawer remained – a desk, a bookshelf, and a wardrobe. She pulled the doors of the wardrobe open, expecting to find moth balls and destroyed dresses.
Instead, she found a vast collection of furs, woolen dresses, and boots. Dust lined the furs, dresses and boots alike. Was it always winter here and never spring? Why would a woman need such a large collection of winter clothing?
The four poster bed had remains of a faded gray canopy covering the top, while the heather blankets and sheets were moth eaten and quickly crumbled to dust when Eliza rubbed them between her fingers. More furs lined the bed, the only bedding that had remained intact over the years of disuse after the former occupants had left.
In the corner, the chest of drawer yielded nothing either, just a splinter that she had to attempt to pull out in the darkness. Opening the window blind to give herself a little more light, she discovered that the full moon was shining down on the mansion that night.
The desk, however, revealed scattered, yellowed documents containing hastily written notes, and some bound notebooks, both written in the same handwriting. Scanning the pages, she discovered that they were letters written by a man named Darian, to his sister, who he didn't refer to by her name. One letter in particular stood out as peculiar. She read it several times, trying to guess the meaning behind it, but gave up.
Dearest sister,
I have done it. I have cracked the secret. Trials 1 and 2 were complete successes, so just the final stage remains. I'll be coming home in a few days, so please prepare my chambers for me.
-Darian
A quick search of the bookshelf revealed nothing out of the ordinary, but the former occupant of the room seemed to love myths. Greek, Roman, and even Egyptian lined the shelves, waiting for someone to discover their contents again.
Yawning, Eliza went to check the door of the room again, listening for any suspicious signs. If something truly was coming after her...she should stay awake...but several minutes had passed.
Would it make any difference if this was the last time she would fall into a dreamless sleep?
Well, putting her feet up wouldn't hurt. She laid down on top of all the dusty blankets and sighed...trying to relax from the day she just finished, then began coughing from all the dust.
Thoughts raced in her head, whirling around over and over again for Eliza to solve or simply ponder. Who is that monster trying to protect me from? Is there someone else in the mansion? Why does the monster here not have a body, but can yet deal with the people the king wants to get rid of? Why does the king want to get rid of him? Is he...rebelling in some way? Do I deserve to be able to help him? Closing her eyes, she promised herself that she would only rest her eyes for a moment, to ponder all these questions ringing in her mind.
Alas, simply resting one's eyes leads to sleepiness, and sleepiness leads to falling asleep on the watch.
Not feeling rested enough, Eliza woke to the monster's voice outside of the door.
"Eliza? Are you in there?"
She rubbed her eyes and stretched out her arms, feeling the tension in her arms and shoulders release. Just a few minutes more would have been helpful...but alas, it was time to discover more of this mansion's secrets...and face the monster she had just tried to kill a few hours earlier. Sure, he seemed to not be the vengeful type and even seemed to almost forgive her for trying to stab him through the heart...but...
"Eliza!"
He's a monster. He can't be trusted.
Sliding off the furs, she walked over and opened the door. The monster hovered outside the door, arms crossed. His blindfolded eyes gazed at her; she was thankful for the blindfold, to not have to meet the creature's eyes for fear of seeing his true state of mind.
"We need to talk. If you're going to stay here..."
"It's not like I have a choice..." she muttered under her breath. Why must this monster try and be friendly with her after she nearly killed him?
"...then we need to be able to trust each other."
"You do realize that trust is something that is built up over years of companionship, sharing trials together, and an overall sense of knowing the other person like the back of your hand?"
The monster sighed. "Sometimes even that isn't enough. You can begin to trust those you just meet, however, if you're honest with each other."
He fell silent. Eliza felt that familiar burning feeling in her chest, that weight of knowing what she must do, but being fearful of that responsibility at the same time. The burning feeling that had plagued her ever since...
"I suppose we can't trust each other then," she said, lowering her head and staring at the floor. Why? Why can't you say it? Tell him for crying out loud. He deserves to know. She waited for him to say something, anything to break the awful silence and drive away the warring thoughts in her mind.
Finally, he spoke, in a halting manner, seeming to choose his words carefully. "I...you're the first person who has stepped foot in this mansion who hasn't run in fear and met with a worser fate. I believe...no, I know you can help me. I've failed...in my duties...and I need to make it right...somehow."
He lifted his transparent hands and held them out in front of him, putting them on full display for Eliza. "Since...I can't feel anything for long periods of time, I can't search this mansion for...the things I need. Sure, I can find the hidden passages in this castle, but when you can't touch and hold things to search through them...it's rather difficult to find anything useful."
Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in. He doesn't need to know what a failure you are already... She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she fought to hold them in.
Lowering his hands, the monster gazed at Eliza through the dark blindfold. "If you can't bring yourself to help someone like me...I understand. No one wants to help a failure, since there's no chance of getting out of it alive...but then again, no one gets out alive of this place either..." The phantom began to sink into the floor. "You're welcome to stay in that room, but I suggest you move bedrooms each night, for your safety. I've unlocked the other bedrooms on this floor."
When the phantom's body had completely disappeared into the floor, Eliza ran back into the room, slammed the door, and fell onto the furs, soaking them with her tears. He's...like...me.
- - -
So...I'm honestly not sure about the bit at the beginning. I definitely want it in the story, but I've got to figure out when to begin it. :)))
Someday this whole writing thing will magically make sense and I'll know exactly what I'm doing! Right? Right?!
Ahem...
Have a biblical meme for today. 😁