This is so embarrassing: I wrote it when I was sixteen. I don't imagine it would be of entertainment to anyone but myself. The prelude is a poem I wrote myself, too, unfortunately.
Ah, fickle love!
You cannot decide, can you?!
Can you?!
Thrust me aside and look upon me no more
Or kiss me again
Even through the near-impermeable walls the storm raged, and as I leaned in an arcade in relief I felt the shudder of thunder. I shivered, and it was then that I realized the cloak I wore was warm, heated with a touch alien to my own, and I shuddered again, in horror, and wrenched it from my shoulders, holding it gingerly in one hand.
The walls which surrounded me were unfamiliar, hazy, and seemed even more foreign still as steam rose from an arched, open window and filled the room with curling threads of vapor. There was silence but for the steady roar out of doors.
I was not aware that I was in near-darkness until a sudden, alarming orange flame shot up from the wall opposite me. My breath lodged in my throat until I realized I was looking at a vast marble fireplace, thick with dust and web.
As my fascinated eyes stared the flame enlarged and separated, and the room was suddenly filled with a strange, warm glow.
How? I asked myself, but only for a moment, for I was shocked once more at the whisper which I might have heard.
Could have heard.
If only the rain would not pound so loudly...
The self-originated fire crackled merrily and invited me to kneel before it, and I closed my eyes in relief as the warmth permeated my damp, shivering body.
"Listen to me listen to me..."
I looked around and rose, the doctor's cloak slipping through my fingers. My heartbeat was audible.
"Listen to me listen to me listen to me..."
Was I hearing a voice? I blinked, and looked around again. The vapor seemed to cover the floor, and was beginning to reach my feet. I watched it until it curled around my ankles.
"Eloise..."
"Who's there?" I cried loudly, and my own voice was childlike, thin.
The flames crackled before my eyes in a mesmerizing glow. Were they coming closer to me, or I to them?
Then I was aware of the stone beneath me, and I was seated before the fire again.
"Eloise..."
Yes, it was the fire. I was certain of it. It spoke to me in a rich, dark voice.
"Yes; I'm listening."
"Eloise...you are the chosen and the cursed. Marry, and bear children, and you will carry on a legacy of evil and madness."
"What nonsense is this?" I scoffed at the flames.
A sharp crack, like an impatient throat clearing itself. "Your dreams are to fall in love and be wed, are they not?"
"Yes; what business is it of yours?"
"You are mad, Eloise."
"I am entirely coherent."
"Your children will be mad as well, Eloise. Countless generations will suffer from your afflictions if you carry out your selfish plans."
"My plans are normal," I said, confused and disappointed and a little angry. "I am a woman, or will be one day, and I deserve to be able to have children! And, anyway, I don't know why you are concerned. I shall never fall in love here, after all. My dreams will probably never come true, but I refuse to surrender my pleasant wishes."
Was the glow lessening? Was the fire dying?
"Stay away from the beds of men."
I frowned. "What?"
The fire was dying, and I was distressed.
"You shan't understand it now. Just remember my words; heed my warning. Your virginity is the future's salvation."
My eyes widened considerably. "Why...what a dramatic and strange thing to say! My maidenhood is not your concern, and your statement reeks of histronics!"
I was on my feet, and I was glaring angrily into a cold, empty fireplace. Feeling a little dizzy, I staggered backward and gingerly touched my forehead. The mist which had poured so freely from the windowsill had vanished, and a faint but steady rain fell upon Otranto.
Unconsciously I drew the doctor's cloak about me, a frightened feeling stirring within me. I had not liked the fire's words. Was there something the matter with me? Without warning, I suddenly felt trapped in a chasm of uncertainty.
I did not know what was real anymore; I was wandering through the castle's halls, and I saw smokelike images rise around me, beckon to me, and for the first time I was frightened of them, for I did not know what they were, who they were. Or if they were truly there.
Drawing back from the translucent white hands I hurried through the passages, tears of distress coming to my eyes. I continued on, giving in to the icy tears which clung to my lashes and cheeks, and biting my lip to keep from sobbing aloud.
God, I was so afraid. I did not know what was the matter with me.
And then there was Isabel, looking out of a window into the bleak, wet air. Relief filled me as I halted in the doorway, and I watched her.
I made no sound, but nevertheless, without warning she turned to me, and her relief echoed mine.
"Eloise," she chided in a breaking voice. "Dear, I did not know what had happened to you. I..."
I rushed into Isabel's familiar arms and a sob escaped my throat. "Help me, I whispered into her shoulder, scented with lavender. "I need to know what is real."
Isabel allowed me to remove my shoes in order to pace the deliciously cool, wet grass. I lingered behind her as she steadily trod to the ruined cathedral, not once looking back to make sure I followed. She knew I would not run away this time.
The sun looked sleepy as he moved from the cover of the last of the green-grey clouds. The light he bestowed was gentle and hesitant.
The closer we came to the cathedral the more my heart began to pound. Isabel seemed so certain of herself, ahead. She knew precisely where she was going. How well did she know my sanctuary?
I plucked idly at my freshly-washed gown, a mournful black silk, but relieved with lace at the elbows. I looked ahead again, and saw that we were coming closer to a garden beside the church, a garden of tombs. I was fascinated and frightened, and I stopped at the gate, clutching onto the damp iron balustrade in desperation.
Immediately Isabel turned around. "Come here." It was not softened with a plea, or hardened with a telling edge, but a single, collected statement.
I obeyed her, though inwardly I recoiled.
The graves were covered in a tangled mass of weeds and wildflowers, and the stones were covered in ivy; they were crumbling. Isabel made her way through the cemetery, looking around, halting before a pair of graves at the far edge, motioning for me to join her.
I felt faint; I knew I was going to see something I did not wish to. My own voice mocked me with my urgent question, "What is real?"
Perhaps I said it aloud, because Isabel said slowly and softly, "This is real."
And I moved beside Isabel and I saw the gravestones, framed in masses of ivy and morning glory.
The one nearest to me said "Horatio L'Agassi; birth unknown; death November 15, 1584."
The other read, merely, "Beth Dela Mer."
Oh, I had seen the graves before. I had seen them long ago, long before I even knew what death was. I had read the names and I had spoken aloud, spoken to my unseen neighbors in earnest. And I had brought them flowers.
And I had created my friends, Horatio and Beth, from the depths of my mind.
Ah, fickle love!
You cannot decide, can you?!
Can you?!
Thrust me aside and look upon me no more
Or kiss me again
Even through the near-impermeable walls the storm raged, and as I leaned in an arcade in relief I felt the shudder of thunder. I shivered, and it was then that I realized the cloak I wore was warm, heated with a touch alien to my own, and I shuddered again, in horror, and wrenched it from my shoulders, holding it gingerly in one hand.
The walls which surrounded me were unfamiliar, hazy, and seemed even more foreign still as steam rose from an arched, open window and filled the room with curling threads of vapor. There was silence but for the steady roar out of doors.
I was not aware that I was in near-darkness until a sudden, alarming orange flame shot up from the wall opposite me. My breath lodged in my throat until I realized I was looking at a vast marble fireplace, thick with dust and web.
As my fascinated eyes stared the flame enlarged and separated, and the room was suddenly filled with a strange, warm glow.
How? I asked myself, but only for a moment, for I was shocked once more at the whisper which I might have heard.
Could have heard.
If only the rain would not pound so loudly...
The self-originated fire crackled merrily and invited me to kneel before it, and I closed my eyes in relief as the warmth permeated my damp, shivering body.
"Listen to me listen to me..."
I looked around and rose, the doctor's cloak slipping through my fingers. My heartbeat was audible.
"Listen to me listen to me listen to me..."
Was I hearing a voice? I blinked, and looked around again. The vapor seemed to cover the floor, and was beginning to reach my feet. I watched it until it curled around my ankles.
"Eloise..."
"Who's there?" I cried loudly, and my own voice was childlike, thin.
The flames crackled before my eyes in a mesmerizing glow. Were they coming closer to me, or I to them?
Then I was aware of the stone beneath me, and I was seated before the fire again.
"Eloise..."
Yes, it was the fire. I was certain of it. It spoke to me in a rich, dark voice.
"Yes; I'm listening."
"Eloise...you are the chosen and the cursed. Marry, and bear children, and you will carry on a legacy of evil and madness."
"What nonsense is this?" I scoffed at the flames.
A sharp crack, like an impatient throat clearing itself. "Your dreams are to fall in love and be wed, are they not?"
"Yes; what business is it of yours?"
"You are mad, Eloise."
"I am entirely coherent."
"Your children will be mad as well, Eloise. Countless generations will suffer from your afflictions if you carry out your selfish plans."
"My plans are normal," I said, confused and disappointed and a little angry. "I am a woman, or will be one day, and I deserve to be able to have children! And, anyway, I don't know why you are concerned. I shall never fall in love here, after all. My dreams will probably never come true, but I refuse to surrender my pleasant wishes."
Was the glow lessening? Was the fire dying?
"Stay away from the beds of men."
I frowned. "What?"
The fire was dying, and I was distressed.
"You shan't understand it now. Just remember my words; heed my warning. Your virginity is the future's salvation."
My eyes widened considerably. "Why...what a dramatic and strange thing to say! My maidenhood is not your concern, and your statement reeks of histronics!"
I was on my feet, and I was glaring angrily into a cold, empty fireplace. Feeling a little dizzy, I staggered backward and gingerly touched my forehead. The mist which had poured so freely from the windowsill had vanished, and a faint but steady rain fell upon Otranto.
Unconsciously I drew the doctor's cloak about me, a frightened feeling stirring within me. I had not liked the fire's words. Was there something the matter with me? Without warning, I suddenly felt trapped in a chasm of uncertainty.
I did not know what was real anymore; I was wandering through the castle's halls, and I saw smokelike images rise around me, beckon to me, and for the first time I was frightened of them, for I did not know what they were, who they were. Or if they were truly there.
Drawing back from the translucent white hands I hurried through the passages, tears of distress coming to my eyes. I continued on, giving in to the icy tears which clung to my lashes and cheeks, and biting my lip to keep from sobbing aloud.
God, I was so afraid. I did not know what was the matter with me.
And then there was Isabel, looking out of a window into the bleak, wet air. Relief filled me as I halted in the doorway, and I watched her.
I made no sound, but nevertheless, without warning she turned to me, and her relief echoed mine.
"Eloise," she chided in a breaking voice. "Dear, I did not know what had happened to you. I..."
I rushed into Isabel's familiar arms and a sob escaped my throat. "Help me, I whispered into her shoulder, scented with lavender. "I need to know what is real."
Isabel allowed me to remove my shoes in order to pace the deliciously cool, wet grass. I lingered behind her as she steadily trod to the ruined cathedral, not once looking back to make sure I followed. She knew I would not run away this time.
The sun looked sleepy as he moved from the cover of the last of the green-grey clouds. The light he bestowed was gentle and hesitant.
The closer we came to the cathedral the more my heart began to pound. Isabel seemed so certain of herself, ahead. She knew precisely where she was going. How well did she know my sanctuary?
I plucked idly at my freshly-washed gown, a mournful black silk, but relieved with lace at the elbows. I looked ahead again, and saw that we were coming closer to a garden beside the church, a garden of tombs. I was fascinated and frightened, and I stopped at the gate, clutching onto the damp iron balustrade in desperation.
Immediately Isabel turned around. "Come here." It was not softened with a plea, or hardened with a telling edge, but a single, collected statement.
I obeyed her, though inwardly I recoiled.
The graves were covered in a tangled mass of weeds and wildflowers, and the stones were covered in ivy; they were crumbling. Isabel made her way through the cemetery, looking around, halting before a pair of graves at the far edge, motioning for me to join her.
I felt faint; I knew I was going to see something I did not wish to. My own voice mocked me with my urgent question, "What is real?"
Perhaps I said it aloud, because Isabel said slowly and softly, "This is real."
And I moved beside Isabel and I saw the gravestones, framed in masses of ivy and morning glory.
The one nearest to me said "Horatio L'Agassi; birth unknown; death November 15, 1584."
The other read, merely, "Beth Dela Mer."
Oh, I had seen the graves before. I had seen them long ago, long before I even knew what death was. I had read the names and I had spoken aloud, spoken to my unseen neighbors in earnest. And I had brought them flowers.
And I had created my friends, Horatio and Beth, from the depths of my mind.