| Stanley Part 7 - Confused |
1690
At first, Elizabeth thought that the young girl pouring her heart out to them had been Gemma playing one of her tricks. However, it did not take too long before she was convinced the story they were being told by Grace Regan was a genuine one.
The thought of immature Bunny Regan being held prisoner somewhere was chilling. Heaven only knew what he was going through at this moment and how confused and frightened he must be feeling.
Gracie had told them that she was fourteen but she looked much younger to Elizabeth. Gracie’s frail frame was probably the result of a poor diet and very little, if any, health care.
One fact from Gracie’s story was not adding up though. The girl had been specific about the fact that the dog had broken through her skin and given her a nasty bite. There was certainly fresh blood upon Gracie’s shawl and clothes and yet, as far as Elizabeth could see, no open or recent wound.
“How is your arm now, Gracie?” Elizabeth asked.
“It’s...,” Gracie looked down at her wound. “Bloody hell! It’s healed,” she exclaimed. “Sorry for swearing, Miss.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I probably would have said exactly the same thing in your place. No need for the ‘Miss’ either. Please call me Elizabeth.”
What do we do now?
“We make our way to RoYds,” answered Grispheran.
PrevLabels: 1690s, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
posted by Miladysa @ 10:00  |
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| Stanley Part 6 - Dreams |
1972
Elizabeth threw her navy blue beret and coat over the banister, dropped her satchel on the floor of the hall, and then kicked off her black leather shoes. Thankfully, it was POETS day and she could stay up later and not have to get up early in the morning. Her mother called from the sitting room.
“Elizabeth? Do me a favour, will you please? Just fetch me the Cellotape from the study? Thanks!”
What a pain; she had only just walked in the door! Elizabeth made her way to the study, short huffs and puffs breaking out with every other step. Reaching the door of the study, she threw it open with a tut and discovered her father standing there smiling.
“Daddy? Oh, Daddy! You’re home!” She ran into his arms and he held her tight before pushing her away gently.
“Let me take a good look at you. My, I swear you've grown while I've been away! Are you taller than your mother already?” he laughed.
“Don’t be silly! Well, I nearly am!” she grinned back.
Elizabeth studied her father for a few seconds while he rummaged in a khaki-coloured holdall resting on one of the chairs. His short black hair was sleeked back, giving even more emphasis to his high forehead and deep-set eyes. He was tanned a deep brown, but he looked tired. There was something else too. She sensed it every time he came home. Part of him had been left behind.
After a couple of minutes rooting through the holdall, he presented her with a gift wrapped in a white paper bag. "As you're getting older and no longer a baby, I thought I would give you something more fitting for a young lady. I can always take it back if you want to swap it for a doll?” he teased.
She ripped open the bag, opened the box inside, and then gasped with delight. “They’re beautiful! What are those stones, Daddy? Are they real?” Her eyes were sparkling as she pulled the earrings out of the box. “Put them on me please,” she squealed.
Henry Whyte started to chuckle. It was clear to Elizabeth that he loved these moments. They both did. They were all part of their homecoming ritual. He pulled her waist-length bunches to one side as he fed each one through her ear lobes. When he had finished, he said, “They’re pearls I think, sweetheart. And yes, they’re real as well as special! I want you to wear them -– always.”
The milky stones sparkled against the deep silver setting as Elizabeth’s head bounced with delight. Henry sat down on one of the armchairs and patted the arm for Elizabeth to join him.
“How have things been while I have been away? Has everything been OK?”
“Yes. Boring!” She declared with a sigh.
“What about with you?”
“Well, I have been having strange dreams and I saw you in them.” She averted her eyes, concentrating on the jewellery box the earrings had come in as she spoke. “You kill people, don’t you, Daddy?”
Henry stiffened for a split second and then answered, “Yes, I do, Elizabeth. But I don’t kill anyone who would not hesitate to kill me first if they could.”
Thou shall not kill
She nodded. “I know. I saw you in my dreams. Are you a bad man, Daddy?”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been expecting the question; he knew it would come one day. In fact, he had considered the answer to it many times when he had hours, even days on his hands with nothing else to do but think about questions and moments like this.
“It all depends...” He struggled to find words he had rehearsed in his mind a thousand times before. “The world is not black and white, Elizabeth. Nothing ever is.”
“What if someone kills you, Daddy? Will you come home? Will I be able to see you like I can the others?” She lifted her face and looked into his blue-grey eyes.
“If I have a choice. If I die and there is any way I can come back to you, then believe me, your father will do so.” He meant every word he said.
Satisfied, Elizabeth again turned her attentions to the small box her earrings had come in. “Can I show Mummy, Daddy? What did you get her?
Henry laughed and jumped up from the chair, “Come on. Let’s go and find her!”
PrevLabels: 1970s, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 10:00 |
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| Stanley Part 5 - Doomed |
1907
“You’re a writer?”
“I hope to be. Perhaps one day.”
“Tell me about the dreams.”
Nervously, Stanley took a sip of the gin and tonic which had been served to him by the manservant, Wilfred.
“Well, I suppose,” he cleared his throat. “They started a few weeks ago now, I think. I can distinctively remember that I slept well over Easter and...,” he paused trying to calculate just how long it had been since he last had a decent night’s sleep.
“And?” asked the pleasant young man standing at the window of the elaborately decorated room.
“I haven’t slept properly since.”
“I see.”
Stanley observed the rather eccentrically dressed gentleman. They were probably about the same age. He was not one to judge, but he doubted the fellow could wander far without causing disquiet with his manner of dress. Stanley liked to keep abreast of fashion just as much as the next man, but even so, hair that long was one step further than he would ever wish to go.
“This is all?”
“Pardon?” asked a startled Stanley, somewhat embarrassed by the generous smile the other man bestowed on him.
“You seek us out here at RoYds because you are having problems sleeping? Why not visit the local physician or instruct a member of your household to acquire a tonic from a local pharmacist?”
Stanley felt himself blush. He nervously stroked his fine facial hair before taking another sip of the satisfying drink. Now would be a very good time for the ground to swallow him up.
“Is there something else? Something you may be hesitant to mention?”
Stanley fidgeted for a moment or two and then sighed. “It’s about a woman.” His pulse quickened just thinking about her.
“The beautiful, sensual, seductive kind?”
Stanley felt his face blushing like a beacon.
“Most men would welcome such a dream,” his new acquaintance advised casually. “Personally, I find such women irresistible.”
Stanley was a little taken aback to hear this. If he had been a betting man, he would have wagered that the fellow batted for the other side. He was further surprised when the gentleman laughed heartily.
“I do! But not in the way your mind was working.”
“Pardon?” questioned Stanley somewhat shocked. Had his ears just deceived him?
“So, a beautiful, seductive woman climbs into your dreams, into your mind. Would it be fair to say -– to ravish you?”
Stanley nodded in amazement.
“And you’re complaining?”
“Not exactly,” Stanley replied, strangely feeling more and more relaxed if anything. “The problem is...it’s...well I feel like I’m losing my mind...,”
The gentleman sat down on a nearby large sofa. “Please continue.”
“She...the dreams are draining me. Physically. Mentally.,” Stanley hesitated; he was unsure how to phrase what he was feeling.
“Spiritually?”
Stanley nodded.
“This woman in your dreams, does she perhaps leave something behind, some trace upon waking that makes you question whether the dream was real?”
Stanley felt the blood in his face drain. This strange chap may be able to help him after all.
“She does.”
“If I was to tell you what this something is, would you be inclined to believe what else I may tell you, even though it may seem preposterous at first?”
Stanley downed the remainder of the gin and tonic and was amazed when the glass he replaced on the table appeared full.
“Well?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Very well, then. She leaves behind her a faint trail of gold dust. So faint, that you may only glimpse it from time to time and question whether or not it was your imagination playing tricks on you.”
The room felt silent. Stanley considered what he had just been informed. How could he possible know this?
“I met a lady in the meads, full beautiful -- a faery's child, her hair was long, her foot was light, and her eyes were wild.”
“La Belle Dame Sans Merci?”
“To Yeats and others who have crossed their path. The Lhiannan Sidhe gift inspiration to those they persecute. For a short while anyway. Her embrace draws life and breath from you while she grows bright and strong. The madness is just the beginning, followed later by premature death. Even death is no escape.”
“I am doomed then?”
The young man studied Stanley for a moment before speaking.
“Most of us are -– in one way or another.”
***
Edwardina Templeton observed the smartly dressed young gentleman leaving through the side entrance of the RoYds building. Despite having an almost distracted and tired look about him he was undoubtedly attractive. She felt her heart miss a beat and everything around her seemed to grow more alive. Edwardina had experienced such surreal moments before but nothing quite as acute as this one.
Wilfred greeted her at the main door of the building.
“Afternoon, Miss. How are you today?”
She shot him one of her most spectacular smiles in preparation for the interrogation she had in store for him.
“Wonderful, thank you, Wilfred! Now tell me, who WAS that mysterious young man? I think I may have seen him before somewhere.”
“Tragic case, Miss. He...”
Lady Mabel Theawicke joined them in the corridor. Wilfred’s manner suddenly became sheepish. Unfazed, Edwardina continued, directing her question this time at Lady Mabel.
“Is there nothing we can do for him?”
“From what I have been able to ascertain from Tashriel, Mr Stanley Birch finds himself in the most tragic of circumstances. I have no doubt that he shall be remembered for his troubles in some way or another for quite a while following his untimely death.” Lady Mabel informed her with relish.
Untimely death? Edwardina felt crestfallen. There must be a way to help him and she would work her fingers to the bone to find one.
“If I may, Miss?” Wilfred interjected, helping Edwardina to remove her short pink bolero jacket.
“Thank you, dear Wilfred,” Edwardina smiled. Lady Mabel thought that she had seen a slight blush surface on Wilfred’s cheeks but dismissed the idea as ridiculous.
“I’ve laid out tea and cakes in the blue reception room, Miss. There’s some of your favourite Macaroon’s.”
Edwardina planted a peck on Wilfred’s cheeks. This time he blushed profusely. Lady Mabel rolled her eyes and huffed loudly. Her grey skirts dismissing the pair of them with a disgruntled swish as she proceeded to make her way down the hallway.
Edwardina giggled and shared a conspiratorial smile with Wilfred. “I have NO idea why she insists on acting like a fuddy-duddy! We both know she is one of the most passionate women that ever walked the earth! If only I was more like her. I would...”
“And look where it got her, Miss! You wouldn’t want to make the same mistakes now would you? Passion’s not all it’s cracked up to be, I can tell you!”
Edwardina chuckled and linked Wilfred’s arm playfully. “You can?” She feigned shock. “Oh! Please do, Wilfred. Tell me all about your romantic adventures!”
Wilfred turned scarlet.
“We haven’t got all day,” summoned Lady Mabel, her chastising voice eerily journeying down the hallway to meet them.
Edwardina sighed and unlocked Wilfred’s arm. “Well,” she said merrily. “I wouldn’t say that, would you, Wilfred? Some of us have all eternity!” And with that, she went skipping off to join the target of her mischief.
PrevLabels: 1907, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Stanley, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 21:20 |
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