What Ifs and Whatnots
Chapter 9
When Luca stopped and beamed at me I hid my frown. The space before me looked more of a destitute wasteland than a beautiful rose garden. Even in winter I knew of gardens that still held their majesty…but this one…it was heartbreaking. I turned away from Luca, pretending to take my time in looking over the garden, I just couldn’t face him.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” He asked. The pride in his voice was painful to hear and I forced a non-committal sound so he wouldn’t think I was ignoring him. He stepped forward, giving me a running commentary on what the roses looked like, their names and scents. I followed in subdued silence. The scene of death was so oppressive I knew that I couldn’t stay there any longer. I would not go down to the meal tonight. I knew what outside clothes looked like now, and they would be missing a set before Mrs Hett and the other servants came up to dress me.
“Luca? Could we go back inside?” I asked softly, letting my voice droop with weariness. He instantly turned back to me, a frown marring his jovial mood that instantly turned to worry and he rushed back to my side.
“Of course, we’ve been out here too long, don’t worry, we’re not too far from the castle.” He said, gently leading me back with a hand under my elbow.
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He sat, panting heavily in the corner of the room. Large tears in his chest were bleeding profusely, his own talons soaked with the same blue black blood. He stared at his childhood playroom wishing he could feel some kind of emotion for it. Regret perhaps, at the state he’d just put it in…nostalgia of the days he spent in here with a governess, his parents…but all he could feel was the dark, twisted hatred that coursed through his veins like a disease, poisoning his mind until he could no longer think straight. It was taking too long to get back in control. He hungered for…something…someone…maybe…he didn’t know anymore. He lunged at the antique rocking horse, its amber eyes flashed with fear seconds before it sailed into the opposite wall. He snatched at the cloak, his claws tearing through the coarse fabric as he tore at the horns that adorned his head with a roar of pain; the pain of always being feared, the pain of losing all emotion save hate, the pain of losing control.
The castle felt its master’s pain and its mood darkened. It could feel what its master could not and the castle wept for him.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” He asked. The pride in his voice was painful to hear and I forced a non-committal sound so he wouldn’t think I was ignoring him. He stepped forward, giving me a running commentary on what the roses looked like, their names and scents. I followed in subdued silence. The scene of death was so oppressive I knew that I couldn’t stay there any longer. I would not go down to the meal tonight. I knew what outside clothes looked like now, and they would be missing a set before Mrs Hett and the other servants came up to dress me.
“Luca? Could we go back inside?” I asked softly, letting my voice droop with weariness. He instantly turned back to me, a frown marring his jovial mood that instantly turned to worry and he rushed back to my side.
“Of course, we’ve been out here too long, don’t worry, we’re not too far from the castle.” He said, gently leading me back with a hand under my elbow.
=======================================
He sat, panting heavily in the corner of the room. Large tears in his chest were bleeding profusely, his own talons soaked with the same blue black blood. He stared at his childhood playroom wishing he could feel some kind of emotion for it. Regret perhaps, at the state he’d just put it in…nostalgia of the days he spent in here with a governess, his parents…but all he could feel was the dark, twisted hatred that coursed through his veins like a disease, poisoning his mind until he could no longer think straight. It was taking too long to get back in control. He hungered for…something…someone…maybe…he didn’t know anymore. He lunged at the antique rocking horse, its amber eyes flashed with fear seconds before it sailed into the opposite wall. He snatched at the cloak, his claws tearing through the coarse fabric as he tore at the horns that adorned his head with a roar of pain; the pain of always being feared, the pain of losing all emotion save hate, the pain of losing control.
The castle felt its master’s pain and its mood darkened. It could feel what its master could not and the castle wept for him.
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So this has been a stupidly long time in coming. Several excuses but they're not really importnat.It's up, it's short, but I like it and I hope you do too.
GD xx