The Summerhouse
The beginning
I stand with a candle in the wind beneath the portico of a massive estate. Darkness yawns: all around shadows gather and the wind whistling through their cold hearts warns, Away! Away!
I have traveled long: I am weary. I must take shelter, though my heart goes cold within my breast at the thought. This is not the first time I have entered these gates. I was at the mercy of the mistress of this house once before.
The courtyard swims before my weary eyes in puddles of moonlight as my cold-stiffened fingers grasp the iron gates. They spring apart with an eerie strain. The wind caresses my face and hair as I come beneath the shadows, and a whisper plays at my ear gently.
"You have been long away..."
I turn quickly at the brush of fingers along my shoulder, but no one is there. I swear the wind is beginning to howl with laughter at me. My heart is lovelorn; my mind too tortured with memories to be considered sane. I have returned, to take her away from her madness, or to be swallowed by it likewise.
Text © 2007 by Amanda Monteleone.