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 Posted: Wed Feb 25, 2009 5:29 am
The Abandoned Mansion.
It was once rumored that the most precious flowers in the world bloomed there, once upon a forgotten time. Legend spoke of those very flowers possessing souls of their own, souls that would grant any wish to a pure heart. Others told of how it would bring light into even the deepest darkness of one's entire being, of one's existence. It would bring enlightenment, eternal peace, and unmistakable bliss.
The mansion, however, is in ruins now. Hardly any chance for anything to live in that old, barren wasteland. Right? It was a mystery however such a well-taken care of estate could suddenly die like that. How everyone who had lived there had just suddenly disappeared, along with all accounts on its history, and all traces of life from there. But the stories on the precious flowers only grew more intense with time. What was it about these flowers that... were so intriguing? It seemed the closer I got to it, the stronger became its pull on me. No matter what.
Unable to resist, being the man that I am, I sought after what I could--what remained. The mansion looked hardly abandoned. Everything seemed alive and warm when I stepped through the black, iron-rod gates. The marble walls and the granite stones were as sheen and smooth as if they had never been touched. I went around the mansion, beginning to think I had found the wrong place. Then again, everything was just so beautiful, so perfect. Too perfect, in fact, that it felt as if I were walking in a dream.
And there, I was astonished to find radiant fields in full bloom.
I couldn't believe it.
The legendary flora that had suddenly died out lay right before my eyes! The stories were true. They were all true! And heavens, were they beautiful. In mere moments, I was lost. Caught in a trance, through my eyes I merely watched as my body began moving on its own, closer and closer to those beloved flowers. Purer a white than even snow under moonlight, giving off an ethereal lilac glow that sang me their beautiful, but strangely tragic song.
A coldness bit at the back of my neck. Abruptly, I turned, suddenly feeling as if I were being watched. Carefully, I raised my head to the window above me, and there I caught a glimpse of a child. By jove, she was the most beautiful child I had ever seen. Was she watching over the flowers? Were they hers? For a moment, I had trouble deciding, but in the end she was the victor. What I mean is about which was more beautiful, the surreal flowers beneath me or the even more surreal child watching me from above.
And then, before I knew it, she had disappeared.
Still, I couldn't look away, couldn't help but hope she would blink back into view if I watched long enough.
That was when the most amazing thing happened. My attention was immediately stolen away by the figure now slowly descending the steps to the foyer just at my side. It stole away my attention, alright. along with my breath, my heart, and my soul.
Wit eyes hidden still beneath delicate purple lids, pale skin more radiant than any precious jewel, and onyx hair darker than even the darkest night. To say that she was beautiful would do her no justice. It would be a crime. No words would be able to describe the unspeakable beauty of the woman that stood... not so far from me.
I felt my heart skip a beat or two, or three, or four--it might have stopped, I don't quite know--when she slowly flashed her brilliant aquamarine eyes at me, gazing at me from beneath her long pitch black lashes.
It took me a long minute to realize that she was staring right into me. And it took even longer for me to realize that she was walking towards me.
Her slow, flowing pace was infinitely graceful--as if she were caught in a forever dance. Her long , slender arms floated behind her as she came closer. And everything she touched, everything her fingertips brushed against wilted, aged, and died. Returning everything to the ruin they had always been, in reality.
That was when I slowly noticed the sadness in her eyes as she looked at me. Pleadingly. Painfully. But she didn't break her ghostly pace, and continued to flow towards me. She didn't even look away.
And neither did I. That moment, I felt like I could die and still be happy. If her touch would be the last thing I felt, the image of her face my last memory, my death by her hands, that would be alright. And she was finally within arms length then--when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.
Her intoxicating eyes bore into mine, and we gazed into each other for one agonizing moment. It felt long and short at the same time, hence, agonizing.
Before she reached out.
I caught a glimpse of her perfectly dainty hand about to touch my face, and imagined for a second how soft it would have been against my skin, when just as quickly, she pulled back. Her movements were small, fragile, fluid. I could barely see her hand. Was there something wrong with my eyesight?
Her sorrowful eyes silently dropped to the ground briefly, before flickering back to mine. She held them there for a moment, speaking for her her silent apology, before she pulled back, turned away, and drifted off.
I wanted to speak, wanted to tell her to stop, wanted to tell her to stay. But found that I could not. I could only watch her drift away and disappear. Slowly. Painfully.
The black curtain of darkness fell upon the mansion at her wake, taking away all life along with it. All the warmth removed, replaced with the cold of a home long abandoned. Of memories buried in the soil and forgotten. As the clouds grew thick and wept thick droplets of rain upon my head, and the broken home's surface. On the cracks on the stone, the dirt and grime that had come to grow throughout the years, and the barren land that promised to poison all that tried to live upon its heart again, and again, and again.
The beautiful woman whose name I never knew was gone. All the life in this place was gone. Then again, it was never there to begin with, was it? I watched it disappear. I watched it all disappear. All around me, decaying, rotting, eroding though I felt that time had stood still.
And I stood there, amidst what remained.
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Posted: Wed Feb 25, 2009 5:32 am
Author's Comments:
D o u b l e - e d g e
- your beauty is poison to me; a drug i will be only a fool to resist. to come close to you is brandishing a double-edged sword. your very presence satiates my thirst, but your touch will take from me my life. and i don't really care.
This short story is one of my first written first-person narratives. Beside all the poetry, of-course, as I tend to write from the speaker's perspective there as well. Here I simply felt it befitting, as I will be able to speak what my imagination made me feel as I was thinking the whole story up. The concept? Pretty simply, actually.
I was listening to a rather tragic/sad violin piece on the radio one afternoon after school. And by chance, I was able to record it. While listening to it, the whole thing just popped into my head. Images flashed, from the sequence of events from the characteristics of our phantom.
The story tells of the legend of not those magical flowers, but of their beautiful mistress that had died mysteriously many years ago. A bringer of death, turmoil and destruction was she. And thus all she touched turned to ruin, crumbled, and died. In reality, the flowers were mere pawns of this curse. The allured the beautiful youth into her garden, where they would remain hypnotized by the flowers' beauty. Then later, captivated by the woman's own. And they would come to her, and she to them. One touch was all it would take, and they would drop down, dead. To rot forever.
But in time, the ghost had grown to love the humans. And she has seen (and caused) far too much death in her non-life. This youth did not come with a black heart. He was an innocent. She had no desire to take from him that which did not belong to her. So she let him go. She let him leave. See the true ugliness of what her home had become.
To watch the remnants of her past rot, and wither, and crumble in time.
Basically, that's it. Pretty tragic, actually. And I'd very much like to have this drawn at one point, as it really paints a beautiful picture in my mind. However, I need to further practice implementing emotions into my drawings first. This was actually all really random. Also take note that this was also written from the point of view of a man.
Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it.
Tell me what you think. <3
Remnants © Anagramyc/JN Magno.
Done February 2oo9.
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