Spoiler! :
It’s been ten horrifying years since her mysterious death, and the once small and helpless Evelyn had flourished into a responsible fifteen year old girl, who now sits alone on her bed, waiting for her aunt to return home. She was scribbling into a small notebook, which was now almost falling into pieces from the roughness it had endured over past year. Every year on her birthday, Evelyn would wish for only one thing from her aunt, a shiny new journal to pour all of her deepest thoughts into.
Today, she wrote down in her current journal, is my fifteenth birthday. Aunt Celeste has just gone out to the market ( a trip that she makes only twice a year), and here I am, spending the time where I should probably doing the many chores I have on my list to do, writing in this journal. It doesn’t matter, it’s not as though she’ll get really mad at me, because Aunt Celeste isn’t one to get mad. In fact, she’s not one to talk in any tone at all! She doesn’t really like people much, she barely ever even talks to me. I suppose it does run in the family, because I really was never one to converse with others much. I’d rather keep thoughts to myself, or in this notebook. Besides, the only people I ever get to talk to are either from school (where people usually avoid me because they know which family I come from), or here at the manor, where everyone doesn’t say much and continues working. I don’t know why I even have to do chores, Aunt Celeste is rich enough to have workers do all of them for me. Apparently this helps make me more of a “lady” but I beg to differ. Evelyn paused as she thought she hear the noise of her aunt’s car drive into the manor doors, but it turned out it was just James, who comes to the house every so often to check up on her aunt.James has just turned up again, she wrote, He’s Aunt Celeste’s old friend from high school. When I was younger I always thought that they’d hit it off, but I suppose that’s never going to happen. Ever since Uncle Gregory died, she’s never been the same. I’d never met him before, but apparently he was the best thing to ever happen to this family. That was until the terrible day when he died of Cancer. Aunt Celeste has always blamed herself for whatever reason, even though it’s definitely not her fault. He’d had this disease for years before he’d finally past away, and it had eaten up every single bit of strength in him. According to our gardener, Carter, who has been my aunt’s employee and friend for over 20 years, told me that Aunt Celeste couldn’t bare to see our Uncle like that. People had always said that she had only been into the guy for his money, but everybody in my family knows that that’s not the case. She’s kept herself from the outside world ever since his death, and doesn’t want to get involved into an relationship ever again. I believe that she’s afraid of losing someone, and she doesn’t want to have her heart split into two again. I suppose that’s why she’s always sort of distanced herself from me. I guess she doesn’t want to get to attached to me, in case anything bad were to happen. James is the closest person to her heart right now, and she’s been trying to get away from that. Distancing herself from people is the best way to not get hurt, but it’s also the best way to lose yourself.
Many have said that my Aunt has gone completely insane since my mother’s death. I suppose that could be true, but her “insane” self is the only version of her I’ve ever met, and I personally don’t mind her at all. She’s been good to me in many ways, and I’ll never forget that. I’ve got a roof over my head, and that’s all I can ask for in life right now. I’m just glad I didn’t have to get shipped off to an orphanage or a foster home like I know many orphans have too. Just being trapped up in any area makes me nervous. I suppose that you could say I am a little bit claustrophobic, as Carter always tells me when I share my thoughts with him.
Carter always seems to give me good advice. He’s getting quite a bit older now (I’d say around 70), but I doubt that he’ll ever retire. His whole life he’s lived here at the manor, serving my aunt’s family name, and it’s his home here. I think that if he left I would be very depressed, he always did seem to know what to do on the worst kinds of occasions. Sure, he’s just a gardener, but he plays such a bigger role then that. Surely Aunt Celeste must realise that as well, otherwise she wouldn’t have let him stay here for so long!
Well, I really should be signing off now, seeing as I am really writing on the edge of my page.I do hope that Aunt Celeste does return soon with my new journal.
Evelyn
With a sigh, she closed her book and sat there for only a moment, listening to the leaves that were now gliding through the wind like they normally would on an autumn's day. She longed to be like a leaf at that moment. To just be able to drift gracefully through live would be like a dream. But sadly, life had to be what it was, and that was a total nightmare. Evelyn got up and walked over to the small window in her bedroom. Ever since a couple of weeks ago when she’d last closed it, it wouldn’t budge. However much she tried to open the window, it jammed, leaving her no way to have any sort of fresh air. This mostly bothered her today, seeing as she was deep in her thoughts and wanted a way to escape. The fresh breeze of the outside world always seemed to clear her head, but Aunt Celeste always told her to stay indoors, especially on a day where she had many chores and homework to do. Evelyn rarely listened to her Aunt’s rules, even though she knew that she should. As a curious girl, she had never been one to follow an adults orders, even if it was meant to keep her safe. She did not believe that any rules were to keep her scratch less, but to have her prisoner indoors to keep her from discovering the secrets of the world. And oh, how she wanted more then anything to cause mischief and adventure.
Glancing below her on the earthly garden that was the view from her bedroom, she saw an old man working. She’d talked to him on several occasions before, and he’d always had something wise to say. Although Evelyn had never known who her grandfather was (she’d been to shy to ever ask her aunt questions), she’d always thought that Mr. Brown would be like the grandfather she never had. He was wise, thoughtful, and always gave her good advice. Evelyn watched as Carter Brown wiped the sweat off of his face and leaned against the huge tree that was giving him the trouble of raking the leaves off the ground. He looked up for a second at the window and gave Evelyn a small wave. She gave a sad wave back, wishing that she were allowed to go and help him. Once, when she was just a small little girl, she had tried to help the cleaning lady (who has since retired and Evelyn can’t remember her name) but ended up smashing all of the dishes. That didn’t do the lady much help, and ended up getting blamed for it. Evelyn was young and scared of her aunt back in those days and didn’t try to back her up. She has learned to not get in the way of her aunt’s helpers again.
Stepping away from the window, Evelyn left her bedroom and wandered the wide halls of the manor. There were many times when she would lie in her bedroom late at night, too scared to walk off to the bathroom. People have died before in the manor, so Evelyn was sure that it must be haunted. She tried not to think of those stories she’d heard from Isabella (the evil maid who found it very entertaining to give Evelyn a scare when she was a small child) , as she walked down the creepy spiral staircase that lend her down onto the main floor.
“Evelyn, what are you doing outside of your bedroom?” The manor’s librarian asked as she walked by, unsurprisingly with a ton of books in her hand making her hardly visible.
“What are you doing outside the library?” Evelyn replied confidently. Mrs. Hodge tried to give her a dirty look over the top of all her books, but ended up just dropping one onto the newly polished granite floor.
“Unlike yourself, I do not have limits to where I can go in the house,” She replied, while Evelyn bent over to pick up the book for her, “I was actually just going off to the garden to give Mr. Brown this book about Life Fruit. He’s read it about a ten times and is still wondering about the myth that they’re actually real-“
“Living In the Night,” Evelyn read off of the cover of the book she had just picked up, “What, is this some trashy novel about a vampire?”
“Ms. Harrison, please hand that back to me,” Mrs. Hodge demanded, and tried to snatch the book away from her. Unfortunately, Evelyn was too fast and dodged out of her reach, and opening the book to the first page.
“There have been countless times in history where people have tried to figure out the true meaning behind dreams, but none have even scratched the surface of the dream land. Many believe that dreams are just a figment of humans imagination, and that there is no real meaning behind it-“ Evelyn read from the book, and looked up to meet Mrs. Hodges shocked eyes, “What on earth-?”
“Ms. Harrison, please hand me that book back right this instant!” Mrs. Hodge replied as she reached for it again. Evelyn was waiting for it, and dodged her swiftly again, making more books fall onto the ground. Most of them, judging by their titles, had to do with dreaming as well. Evelyn quickly picked another one up.
“Who’s actually reading this stuff? It’s a whole bunch of rubbish!” She cried out, flipping through them. As much as she didn’t believe a word of what the pages said, she couldn’t help but feel curious toward the topic. After all, she’d always been intrigued by dreams.
“Well if you think it’s rubbish, then hand them back to me,” Mrs. Hodge huffed, almost dropping yet another book. Evelyn only raised one of her eyebrows and gave her librarian a look that said, I won’t give you the books back until you give me answers. It seems as though she understood because she replied to her glance, “ Your aunt would like them removed from the library is all,”
“Removed? Why?” She knew that her aunt liked to base everything off of fact, but that was no reason to remove these books from the library. Besides, Aunt Celeste hardly spends any time in the library, so she wouldn’t have any idea about these books unless she’d been looking for them specifically once.
“I have told you enough already. Now give me the books and-“ But Mrs. Hodge did not get to continue her sentence, for Mr. Brown had just entered the entrance hall from the gorgeous front doors. Evelyn quickly hid the books behind her back, because she knew that Mr. Brown would give her a talk about how to treat your superiors if he knew she’d done something wrong.
“Hello Carter!” Evelyn said, walking backwards toward the stairs, “Nice day outside isn’t it?”
“Is something up?” He asked, peering at her. As Mrs. Hodge began to speak, Evelyn cut in.
“Yes, something is up,” She said looking above her, “The ceiling, the chandelier-“
“Please, Eve,” Mr. Brown replied, “Don’t give me cheek. And what’s that behind your back?”
He eyed her arms, and Mrs. Hodge tried to speak once again, but was cut off, by a rather quick sentence that was hard to comprehend.
“Oh it’s nothing. IgottagoI’llseeyoulater!” Evelyn turned on the spot and ran up the stairs, leaving the two of them to stand there in confusion. Mrs. Hodge stood there for a moment, then spoke.
“Her aunt has specifically told me to move those books out of the reach of Evelyn,” She said in a low voice, so that the curious girl wouldn’t hear her as she continued to climb the steps. Mr. Brown’s eyebrow furrowed, as he held out his hand to retrieve a book the librarian was holding out to him. The book was not anything to do about gardening, but about dreams, just the same as the others.
“Why is she trying to keep her secret from the poor girl?” Mr. Brown replied, watching Mrs. Hodge struggling to keep the books up.
“Because,” Mrs. Hodge replied, getting ready to turn around and leave the conversation, “She’s only trying to protect her,”
****
“Son,” The dictator said as he was lying on his bed with a bunch of ladies fetching drinks for him, “I want him found…and dead,”
“But father,” The 17 year old replied, “He has killed many of our men before. If we just keep going at it then we will have wasted a bunch of lives!” The boy quickly looked down at the ground as he objected his father’s words. Sharing his views could get him into huge trouble. Luckily, the man was in a good mood today.
“I did not ask for your opinion, boy,” He nodded at the young women who was handing him the drink he had asked for. She shuddered for a moment as he took the first sip, then relaxed a little as he spoke, “Very tasty. I’ll expect this good of quality from you next time,”
“I just ask for you to listen,” The boy said, giving his father a nasty scowl that he soon regretted, “After all, I have experience out there,”
“It is true, you do have experience,” The father said as he traced his finger around the top of the drinking glass, “Which is exactly why I came up with this plan,”
“A plan, sir?”
“Well you don’t expect a man like me not to have some idea about this…pest,” The man replied to his son’s questioning glare. A different women came up and put a wet towel to his forehead, like she would always do in times where the dictator was under stress, “This man has already taken so much from the community-“
The son foolishly interrupted his own father, “As if you actually care about the community!” One of the women gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Did he actually just say that to his father? However, the dictator only laughed as though his son was some kind of animal.
“You’re so right, my boy,” The dictator replied, “I do not care about the village itself. I care that the thief is stealing stuff that is IN my village, and is therefore a direct insult to me! Everything in this county is mine, and even if it’s just one loaf of bread that is stolen, they will be punished for it! And believe me when I say, that is is not all this boy has done!”
“Boy? I thought he was older?” The son asked curiously. Surely his own father wouldn’t punish him that strictly if he wasn’t that old. However, this didn’t seem to be the case.
“He’s around 16. Old enough to know what his actions are,” Just then a middle-aged lady walked into the bedroom with a frown upon her face.
“You aren’t seriously talking about the young boy stealing food for his family, are you? Haven’t you punished him enough?”
“You have no place in this, Thaliana,” The dictator responded to his most recent wife.
“Oh, but I do,” She said, taking a step towards him. She was being a little too persistent now, and the boy wanted to give her a warning before she went too far, “In case you haven’t noticed, I have rights in this decision as well,”
“What, just because you are distantly related to the family?”
“This boy you speak of is the son of my cousin, sir,” Thaliana said firmly, “And you killed his whole family. MY family,”
“You couldn’t possibly be related to them,” The man replied, “They’re poor,”
“Having less money does not mean they are any more human then you are,”
“You’re right. It just means they don’t work as hard as me,”
“I bet they’ve done labour work that would make your head spin, you lazy old-“ But she had gone too far, the boy could tell that much.
“WHAT WERE YOU ABOUT TO CALL ME?” The dictator yelled, and Thaliana quickly started backing away from him.
“She didn’t mean it, you were insulting her family,” The boy cut in, but the dictator only gave him a deathly stare that made him feel five.
“GET OUT,”
“Just think about what I said,”
“NOW, BEFORE I-“ But she had already left the room before he got to finish his sentence, “That one is not going to last long,”
The boy shuddered as he said those words. His father had always been so cruel to those close to him, he knew that first hand. “Was there something you were planning on telling me father, or do you want me to leave?” He asked, pointing to the wide door. Pausing for a moment, his father took a moment to decide.
“FLUFF MY PILLOWS,” He yelled to the nearest lady. She quickly ran over to his attention. He smiled at his good service, and stroked his long, grey moustache that was plastered to his face, “Yes, the thief's punishment…”
“Is it the gallows?” The boy asked curiously. Just the day before the dictator had been complaining about them being hardly used.
“No, not painful enough. I want him to die a slow and painful death. Do you have any idea what could do such a thing?” He asked, his cold grey eyes wandering to the window where the cold winds raped the castle.
“Perhaps you could set the dogs on him?”
“No, no, no. That won’t do,” The man creepily grinned at the boy. It was a most evil smile, “I need an assassin. One with great skill, who knows what to do to make the bravest man beg for his mother. My boy, I need you to do this,”
The boy suddenly took his sky blue eyes away from the spot on the ground he’d been staring at for the last five minutes, and looked into his father’s for the first time in his life. Not knowing what he was really getting himself into, Hunter bowed his head low to the ground, making his hair fall right over his eyes, “Do not worry father. I will not let you down,”
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