I dreamt of the mansion again.
I’m
never in the dream, just looking down upon the scene, like a spiritual
presence. The sky is thick with dark and moody clouds, even in a dream I can
feel the thickness in the air. It’s warm for such a dark night. Nestled near
rolling hills and a forest surrounding the other three sides is an extravagant
grey mansion, Victorian. A wrought-iron fence surrounds the expansive property;
the grounds are rich with all kinds of flora, sculpted shrubbery, and a small
stream that runs from the forest behind the mansion. There is ivy crawling
against one side of the grey clap boarded mansion, and a rose garden in the
back. The mansion stands three stories tall, with dormer windows, turrets and
intricate eaves. A paved trail leads down around the mansion, and into the
garden.
It was
like a song movement, the wind whistled in the trees surrounding the property,
it weaved through the ivy, through the iron fence and hummed past a statue of a
weeping woman. The trees bowed and rose, moaning and creaking in rhythm with
the whistling wind. The crash of lightning and the rumbling of deep and
tumultuous thunder rocked the sky. The song rose and fell like waves in an
ocean, it ebbed it crescendo until suddenly it silenced. The clouds thinned and
like a knife, moonlight pierced through the murky veil and lightened the hills
behind the mansion. The small pond that wound around the pagoda glistened in
the moonlight, almost rippling in delight of being noticed.
As the
night continued, the moonlight crept across the ground, slowly making its way
towards the tallest turret on the mansion. The turret overlooked all the land
about it. Inside, placed in the center on a ornately carved pedestal and
encased in glass, was a round gem, large in size, it was red, a deep rich red,
like freshly spilt blood. There it sat, like a king’s jewel, making a show of
itself. The moon’s stare rose and higher and higher until its silvery glare met
with the small garnet. From the heart of the stone, it sparked a small yet
brilliant spark of red that lasted for only a moment. But as the moonlight
lingered longer on the stone, the spark turned into a glow. It grew from its
center and then expanded to reflect off of the stone’s smooth and curved surface
and released a warm red glow around the room in the turret.
The
stone’s light began to pulse, at first erratic and fast, until it slowed and
began to match that of a human heartbeat. I could hear the sound of the stone’s
heartbeat, but it wasn’t necessarily something that could be heard, but felt. I
could feel the stone’s beating rhythm, it was strong, and deep, like it was
buried deep into the ground like an ancient tree’s roots were furrowed deep
into the earth. It was impressive and powerful, but not overbearing, it was
actually soothing to listen to.
Suddenly,
a second heartbeat matched that of the garnet’s beat. It was faint at first,
and when I had heard it, I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not. It slowly crescendoes
from a soft whisper to the powerful pulse of the stone’s. It came from
underneath the earth. I feared that suddenly the tenderly cared for lawn would
suddenly burst apart in shreds and lava would erupt from the core of the earth,
but no such thing happened.
The
beats synchronized and suddenly became louder and louder. What was once
soothing now became a throbbing pound in my head. I cringed and wished that I
was corporeal so that I could cover my ears. The beating grew louder, but its
speed stayed the same. It was unbearable to listen to anymore.
And
just as quickly as it had started, it stopped.
I heard
a deep intake of breath come from somewhere by the rose gardens. My eyes shot
over to the garden. I studied the weeping statue, the winding river, the small
path, and then laying in the grass was something that was not there before.
Taking
his first breath of life, was a man dressed straight out of a Period Romance
Novel. His suit was black and tailored to his muscular, yet slim build. The
white shirt underneath needed no moonlight to make it reflect light, and the
top buttons of his collar were unbuttoned, revealing his pale yet smooth skin,
easily could be mistaken as porcelain. His shoes were polished, yet not flashy,
with small tassels at the top of the foot. But his appearance, his face…that was
even more impressive. Eyes like golden fire, lips shaped in a comfortable
smirk, and his eyebrows poised to impress. His hair was golden white, and
braided down to between his shoulders. In his hand was a rose, a white rose. He
twirled it in his hand nonchalantly. He blinked, breathed again, and then
sighed outwardly. He tossed the rose away, it landed delicately on the ground.
Suddenly
the dream turned into slow motion, he turned and his smirk slipped easily into
a sly grin as he blinked and I suddenly felt like he was looking straight at me. He opened his mouth and in an
unmistakably sultry voice he whispered, “I
found you, my love. Am I as beautiful as you remember?”
OoooOOooo! What do you think this is gonna be about? Because I honestly have no inkling yet!
Once again, I want to thank all of you for your kindness and support and for taking time out of your busy day to read my silly fluff. For those of you who may be wondering, no I have not finished last year's novel Adrenaline, but it's on my list of things to finish before this year ends. I kind of wrote myself into a corner, if you get what I mean (Probably not). Although, if I start Garnet in the Tower, I may never finish Adrenaline. So I'd better work on it now. Wish me luck!
Yours Truly,
Kenra Cook
