Here's the first chapter. Love to know what you think of it.
Chapter 1
She let her pencil fall across the page. Charlotte concentrated as she began to draw the picture of a young man's face. She had seen it in her dreams three nights in a row now. The artist in her longed to draw the face that now haunted her. His features were defined and clearer than any dream before. He had only one dimple in the left side of his face. The young man's eyes had been quite large with even larger eyebrows that made him look as if he were constantly annoyed. She loved the oval shape of his face and curve of his chin. The shadows around his eyes, lips, and nose defined him all the more.
"No...Martha I think that you," she heard a voice say that she recognized right away. Charlotte stood from her bed not caring that her blue polka dotted sheet fell to the icy floor. She placed her ear against the door and listened. While ignoring the cold pain in her feet, she stood tippy toe as she strained hard to listen to her parents.
"Hmmm," she sighed realizing that they had left to the other side of the hallway. After six years of not seeing her grandfather, they were finally staying at his large home. Her money hungry mother had insisted that they come take care of him in his dying days.
Being the daughter-in-law can have its advantages...
She thought back to her mother's words and shuddered. Her father was different though and only cared that his father have a peaceful going. She slowly turned the rusty door knob to her new room. Being the eldest of two children had its advantages as well. Her younger brother had been forced to stay in another room with her two younger cousins. Charlotte opened the door and gazed each way down the hall.
If only I could see him alive?...
She had only been allowed a glance at her dying grandfather, when they had arrived. Now she felt something pulling her to his room. She longed to see the man who had raised her father. The reasoning for this was not clear at all. For a moment she wondered if it was just curiosity that pulled her towards his bedside. She tried to convince herself that it was a child's love and sympathy that pulled her to him. More than anything she wanted to believe that it was love for a grandfather that she had always wanted that now led her to him.
"No turning back now," she whispered to herself as she placed her hand on the door knob to his bedroom. She swallowed as she glanced left and right listening for any signs of her parents. Their voice was suddenly heard as they talked in the kitchen downstairs. Swallowing she pulled her black leather jacket tighter around her shaking shoulders.
Am I afraid of old people...or am I just afraid of dying?...
That simple word afraid meant more than words could explain. It explained most of her life and her reasoning’s for such things. Like the dream the night before, or the fact that she would not show the scars on her wrists. Those were the things that caused fear in her heart. The secrets that no one else knew that ate her alive would kill her should anyone find out. Thinking this Charlotte slowly opened the door and stepped inside.
The air was hot now due to the large heater that was built into the wall. A stench filled the air that reminded her of the few visits she had spent at the nursing home. Her Great Aunt Kathy's room had reeked of old people and urine. A smell similar filled the room, but was mixed with a floral smell due to the Frebreeze air freshener in the corner of the room. The floor was just as cold as her own room, and she tapped her foot softly across the hardwood. He did not flinch nor did he open an eye to acknowledge her presence.
She saw a small bookshelf filled with books in many different languages. On top of a small shelf lay many different photographs. She studied them one by one as she passed. Most were black and white except for the one on the end. It was a faded color photo that caught her eye immediately. She recognized her father's large brown eyes and large nose. Luckily she had been born with her mother's small button nose. Not thinking she reached up and touched it as if to reassure her. Her father was six foot one and thin as a rail.
Charlotte smiled glad that she had hid thin trait. She was only seventeen but a year ago she had stopped growing at the height of five foot eight. She licked her dry lips as she studied a wedding photo and two photos of the lake that lay just outside. Two men in striped bathing suits stood with a small boy between them. Another was of a man with three children on his back as they began to tackle him to the floor. She studied the father and then glanced at her grandfather confirming that it was him. He was tall just as her father and bore the large nose and handsome face...now old and wrinkled though.
"Grandpa," she called out softly as she reached his side. He didn't budge or move the slightest bit. He merely lay there motionless as his chest rose and fell. On the nightstand beside of him lay a pair of thick lenses glasses, a glass of water, and a book. She picked it up reading the faded cover. 'Hillbilly Women', was printed across the front. A picture of two rugged looking women in black and white stared at her. She sat it down and glanced around at the small china hutch that was in the right corner across from his closet. Inside laid numerous glass bowls, cups, pitchers, and etc. Some that looked like vases twirled in a spiral of colors. One that caught her eye was blue with white and green mixed in as it swirled down the neck of the glass. Inside sat a few figures of clear crystal glass. She walked over and stared in at them all. Her favorite that sat in the clear back was a small rabbit. Its ears had a hint of pink in them with a milky white inside his tail. She longed to take him out and hold him. He was beautiful and seemed to glisten off of the ceiling light. As she opened the glass door slowly she heard a loud grunt come from her grandfather's bed.
Feeling guilty, she turned thinking that she would see him staring at her accusingly. Her feet slid a bit across the slick floor as she caught her balance. She neared his bed and swallowed hard. He was attached to a breathing machine that only a doctor would know how to operate. She knew nothing about doctors, science, or math really. Only the simple things could she remember. As an artist those things didn't seem as important.
"Grandpa," she called out in a shaky voice as the machine beeped loudly. She felt her heart pound quickly in her chest as sympathy filled her for her dying grandfather. The last time she had seen him she had only been eleven years old. Their meeting was only because of the passing of her grandmother. At this very moment she could remember the look in his eyes that haunted her to this very day. It reminded her of the look of the boy that haunted her momentarily. She bit her bottom lip as she neared the bed.
"Lizz?" he asked referring to his long dead wife. Charlotte tensed remembering her grandmother so well. She had been one of the many victims to colon cancer.
"No...It's me grandpa...Charlotte," she said as she breathed deep. Never before had she witnessed a death. She had been too many funerals of older relatives, but never before had she been there for the death itself. She couldn't help wondering if this was his moment. A chill ran down her spine as the old man blinked with hazy and weary blue eyes. He was all to calm and quiet. He smiled up at her and his lip quivered as if he would begin to cry.
"Charlotte," he said motioning for her to come closer.
"Yes," she asked feeling rather awkward. She leaned in and listened carefully.
"Water," he said referring to the cup on the other side of her bed. She nodded silently as she hurried to fetch the cup. It was all ready half filled with water. Only then did she notice the small picture beneath the cup. It was of a young man in a soldiers outfit. The old photo was a faded white with the off brown that showed just how old it was. On the back was written world war two and her grandfather's name. He leaned his head up clearly unable to hold the cup himself. She put the cup to his lip being careful not to spill the water.
"Thank you," he said in a mumble as he lay back onto his pillow. He blinked as if listening. Charlotte tilted her head to the side as she tried to listen.
There's something close...
"Charlotte," he said bringing her out of her thoughts. She shivered as she glanced around the room as to make sure that no one was there.
"Yes," she said as she sat the cup back down onto the nightstand.
"I know that your father does not wish you too see me like this," he said and she knew right away that it was forced. She felt guilty once again for forcing him to talk.
"You don't have," she began when he put up a hand.
"No...You," he said when he stopped. "The Knell holds the golden balloon," he said in a soft voice. She didn't speak for the confusion that now filled her mind.
The knell?
"Hell's grim Tyrant...Azrael," he said in a soft voice.
Hell's grim Tyrant...Shakespeare...
"Grandfather," she said softly as feeling her heart beat faster. He did not reply though and remained silent as if he was not listening. "Grandfather," Charlotte said again wondering if he was just hallucinating. If he was really passing, she knew that her father deserved to be there. He lay there though with a smile.
"Yes I remember," he said to no one. Charlotte shivered getting that same feeling that someone was there. The room was empty though, but that did not stop her imagination.
"Left right left," he said with a smile and a laugh. "I'm ready," he said in a soft voice.
"Grandpa...Ready for what?" she asked as she leaned over to look him in the eye. He looked at her momentarily as he reached out with a soft and wrinkled hand. He held tight to her small fragile hand and smiled. His smile grew as he looked her over as if to memorize her face. She knew that she should be calling out to her father. Something held her there though as she gazed into her grandfather's face.
"Grandpa?" she asked again desperately. Tears were running down her face now that she did not even know existed. He pulled her down to him and placed a kiss on her cheek. When she pulled away, she realized that his face was blank. With a scream she pulled away and began to sob. In a matter of seconds he had passed away. She felt her stomach churn into many knots as she gazed at his unblinking eyes.
Fear clutched at her heart as she began to back away. He was gone just like that! Charlotte closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly. It was only then that she heard the sound of a small girl’s laughter echo across the room. It was not all frightening, but it made her shiver none the less. Upon opening her eyes, she saw that she was alone still.
Am I going mad?...
She had heard the small child's voice laugh. As the sun set it cast an orange glow through the room causing the glass to glitter and glisten. Shadows fell across the floor and her grandfather’s face shined with sweat. His breathing machine still ran on without him. It had been a loud noise in the room, but now it seemed so quiet. Everything seemed so quiet now.
Charlotte blinked and gazed down at her own shadow that was split in two. She had always been amazed by the fact that your shadow could break into. Now though her heart beat faster as she thought of this. As she stood listening to the sounds of feet running down the hall, she watched the shadows move. Across the floor floated a shadow that was in the shape of a balloon. It floated above her head causing her to look from the floor to the ceiling above. Still it remained on the floor as if invisible to the world. It then began to float toward the shadow of the bed then disappeared. Her heart raced faster as the rusty hinges of the door screamed. Then her grandfather's words filled her mind...
The Knell holds the golden balloon...
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