Thankyou Taylor smiled to herself as she thought about her house. Reminding herself of the brightness of the garden and how big it was. It felt so real in her mind as if she was once again actually there, she knew that no matter where she was that house would always be her home. Her memories collided with reality as the car grinded to a halt.
Attempting to see where the car had stopped, she was confronted with an inability to see anything beyond her reflection in the window. Night had fallen some when between losing herself in her past and now and all she could make out beyond the glass, after squinting to see, was a burly figure standing a few feet away from the Jag. Taylor peered out of the window, trying to decipher who it was that was standing there. She had no such luck however as the passenger door slammed shut startling her. From what she could tell she was now the only one left inside. The light that was only a moment ago illuminating the back of the car went out and she was left motionless in the blackened vehicle. Silence enveloped her, wrapping its claws around her throat. Swallowing she had to try to keep control of her nerves.
The crunching of gravel was not so much of a comfort but more of a warning to brace herself. Eyes tight shut, the door beside her flung open, and the Jag suddenly filled with an ice cold wind. Taylor shuddered. Reluctantly she opened her eyes to face whoever it was that opened the door and found that there was no one there. Before she had any time to think a mellow voice stated,
“He will see you now Taylor.”
Whoever he was, Taylor was sure she did not want to see him. But apart from sitting there she saw no other choice. Stepping out; her bare feet had to adjust to the freezing temperature of the ground. She stood in silence awaiting instruction as to where to go. No one spoke. The night was still but cold. The dress she was wearing did nothing to keep her warm and the chilled air danced upon her skin as she stood. Still not a sound from anyone. Taylor was unsure on just how many people were in her company. What she was certain of was that the one man she knew of did not sound like the friendly type.
Taylor took a step forward. Pain seared through her feet as the jagged edge to some gravel stabbed at her.
“Where am I meant to be going?” She asked expecting someone to reply. Instead, to her surprise she was greeted with a hard shove. Stumbling, she lost her footing and fell.
By the time she woke, the Jaguar had driven away and she was then left led on the floor all alone. The moon had appeared from behind a cloud and she found two scrolls beside her. One of which was tied with a ribbon, much like the scarlet of her dress. The other had written upon its surface her name. Now sat up; she unrolled the parchment addressed to her. On the page was a message which read;
Follow the path lit up by the moon,
There you will find a house very soon,
Do not stop along the way,
Or you will not see tomorrow’s day.
There was no signature or any explanation toward this frightful poem but yet Taylor sought out to do as it said. She got to her feet looking toward the tree lined path of which the poem described and started to walk. Pain almost blinded her but she didn’t falter because as the poem stated, she would not see another day. Cautious to the moons idea of fun; frequently dipping behind the clouds. Taylor did her best to memorise the pattern of the road. She didn’t want to stray away from the gravel for she knew nothing of the consequences. Continuing for several pain filled minutes she finally came to an open area the floor still bedded with gravel and a monstrosity of bricks and cement stood before her eyes. Ivy climbed the front wall clawing at the roof and there were many windows, each of which were spotlessly clean. Taylor scowled at the sea of sharp edged rocks in front of her, she was not taking kindly to the fact she had to walk this far. She ran quickly across the stretch of gravel trying her very best to ignore the burning sensation coursing its way up her legs. She reached the door two steps short of collapsing. She rapped on the door knocker and awaited an answer. Moments later the door swung open, its hinges groaned from the lack of being oiled, Taylor stared up at the door itself, the wood had large gouges taken out of it quite high up. She contemplated the thought of this and found it a highly strange, she had no idea why there would be so many and so high up. She dismissed the idea when someone spoke; frightening her.
“Ah Taylor, do come in. The Master is expecting you.” Taylor looked to the source of the voice. A lady of middle stature, back slightly arched and thinning auburn hair stared at her with wide eyes. They strayed from her face to her feet. A look of shock absorbed her otherwise warm expression.
“Oh dear child come in and sit down, let me get something to fix up those feet.” She ushered Taylor inside and led her to a chair not to far from the door. She hadn’t had the guts to look at her feet but now she was intrigued to see what mess she had made of them. She ogled at the blood seeping into the carpet and then upturned her foot.
Deep cuts covered her skin each one flowing with blood. It seemed to be taking the woman forever but she eventually came back bearing bandages and a bowl of water. She nursed Taylor’s wounds and wrapped them with the bandages.
“There we go Taylor love. Now run along, the master still wants to see you. Up the stairs and it’s the fifth door on the right. “ With that she walked off.
“Thank you.” She called after the stranger.
Hesitantly rising to her feet she tried her best not to wince when the pressure on her feet caused her more pain.
She advanced the staircase with great care, each step felt like it was multiplying and made her less and less positive about her capability to reach the top. Something in the back of her mind screamed at her to stop where she was and stay there, many times she felt the need to comply to its wishes. Yet every time she stopped her feet ached and so she had to proceed. Some time that felt like an eternity passed and Taylor was finally at the top of the stairs. But now she was confused as to which way it was she was supposed to go. She stood there racking her memory, trying to remember which way the woman had said to go. Nothing came to mind and so she turned left. A corridor of many portraits and doors outstretched in front of her, Taylor was now baffled as to which door she was supposed to go in. Instinct told her it was the third. As she limped up the corridor she stared at the portraits. She stopped in front of one in particular. Gazing up, an intricate golden design framed a petite male figure, the portrait showed him having blood red hair and bright blue eyes. His body was fashioned in a royal blue waist coat covering a white shirt, his legs were thin but not scrawny and he was wearing blue trousers. Taylor studied the features of the mans face, he had neither aging skin or young looking skin covering a well structured face. His prominent jaw line stood out as did his pointing chin. She knew him from somewhere yet she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The idea disappeared from her head when she heard footsteps along the corridor. She turned expecting to see someone. No one was there. An icy sensation crawled up her arm causing the hairs to raise and as soon as it did it seemed to go again. Slightly freaked out she decided to continue walking. All of the paintings were either of men or women all from different times and all of different ages. But the thing that mostly struck Taylor as abnormal was that they all had two things in common. Every single one of those people had blood red hair and blue eyes. She was in the process of wondering why someone would have so many paintings of red haired, blue eyed people when someone tapped her on the shoulder making her scream. She swivelled round and was confronted with a man. He spoke softly to her but his words were meant sternly;
“Young Taylor, I advise you to take the right turning in future. I’m sure I clearly told Patricia that you were to turn right not left. And you were to enter in the fifth door not stand around staring at my ancestors.” The man was about six foot in height, muscular build, roughly in his late thirties and was wearing a purple suit. What Taylor noticed was most striking about him was, like the paintings, he had hair the colour of blood and the brightest azure eyes.
“I apologise -” She paused for allowance to give her his name but he replied simply with;
“Apology accepted. Now. Come. You have much to do in such a short amount of time.” He briskly walked off in the opposite direction.
“Excuse me! But I would really appreciate some sort of explanation. For what reason did I get bundled into a car, dragged halfway across the country and run across gravel that shredded my feet to pieces?” He stopped and turned to face her, this time not so friendly.
“You child, stop whining you will learn in time!” He hissed.
Life is full of hard times and good times. Lift your chin up, Ladies and Gentlemen.
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