Chasing Ireland

1: Hung up

Staring up at your own death didn't scare Annabell as most thought it would- it rather excited her. It amused her even- how they think hanging would kill her permanently, her energy and mind will just rise into the universe till it decided to set her soul free into the world once more. 

So as the rope fit snug on her neck she dared to mutter her last words while looking at the main perpetrator standing before her, "May mine kin hunt and haunt thy kin till the end of time."

The last thing Annabell ever saw was the look of pure fright on her betrayer's face. 

Henry Amity was never going to forget Annabell Mystical. 

Gentle hands pried at her sheets making Ireland grumble before letting the person rip the sheets off the half awake girl. "Up, Up," Ireland's lady-maid, Sophia, shooed. Her hands batting at Ireland to sit up and become more awake, "A busy busy day today, miss!"

Ireland finally sits up with a quiet huff of annoyance before realizing why it would be a busy busy day today- her father's funeral was today and she was not ready. Being an only child had it perks, being spoiled beyond belief, till it came to this dreaded day- the day she would have to inherit her family's successful business.

Her family was well known for their shop on the corner of Chestnut Street, Mystic Treasures, where you could get objects from paint and cloth dyes to letter openers and custom wooden trinkets. Her father mostly ran everything with the help of Sophia and Scarlet- Sophia helping with organization and prices with Scarlet on delivers and pick ups. Ireland will have to hire a wood smith as her father always hand made the wooden trinkets that were popular for the rich to buy for their little children or even as party favors. On the rare occasion her papa would help the funeral home with custom urns or jewelry or dyes for the caskets.

Ireland popped back into reality when she finally took notice of Sophia helping her slip her chemise on, her corset going on next over the soft off white linen, then came the corset cover- a simple piece of fabric used to protect her corset. Next came the petti-coat and wool bodice. Ireland made a grimaced face in the mirror as Sophia laced up her skirt. Everything in black. The final pieces were lace black gloves, a black lace veil to show the sign of mourning, and soft level boots. The clothing was heavy but that was to be expected in the cold weather.

"No time to eat- can't be late to Mr. Mystical's funeral," Sophia tsked, rushing to grab their cloaks and coin pouches. The teen grabbed the cloak easily and clipped it around her shoulders, fingertips brushing lightly over the gold leaf shaped clasp. They headed out the door towards the carriage waiting for them- a wheeled dark oak cage with silver finishing and her family symbol painted in white on the door. The white painted Dahlia flower glared at Ireland as their coach opened the door, lending a hand for the two girls to step up and into the carriage. 

Amity Funeral Parlor

Ireland stared up at the sign for a bit before Sophia lead her into the establishment, they were greeted by a well lit entrance way lined with grotesque paintings, some of nude women with their sensitive places covered in flowers or snakes and others of women being hung with mobs around them.  She stared intently at a girl standing before the rope in front of her, her curly red hair already tangling with the noose like a dark embrace- the painting beautifully captured the look of ghoulish spite on the young woman's face as she stared at a faceless man in the crowd.

"Unknown Witch- Salem, Massachusetts 1692"

A chill rolled down her spine as a voice spoke up behind her-

"That looks kind of like you"

Ireland whirls around, face red from being caught gawking at such a ghoulish art piece, green eyes staring up at a rather tall man- no he had to be rather young- the youthful boyish round face still in place, wavy brown hair swept across his shoulders with his stone gray eyes peering down at her. A bemused light was in his eyes for a fleeting second before he bowed over her hand.

"You must be Mr. Mystical's daughter- Ireland is it? Ireland Ruth?"

"It's just Ireland," the girl replied, she hated her middle name with a passion- it was her mom's after all and her mom left her father alone with a toddler- after leaving a note claiming she was pregnant once more with a babe. Her father searched for years and found no trace of Ruth or the baby- the baby would be around sixteen years of age if it survived.

"Should you not be in the room greeting guests?" the man asked- not introducing himself as he offers his arm which Ireland rested hers around- she did have to do that but as they drew nearer and nearer to the room she saw Sophia greeting guests with welcome- she always had a motherly aura around her, something Ireland never could grasp which made greeting harder for her. 

The showing room was rather large with swooping ceilings and dark oak support beams. Decorating the ceiling was a mural of constellations- the little white dots like the room's personal heavenly halo against a navy blue background- that faded down to a dark forest green on the walls that had vines and other plants adoring it. The leaves cradled paintings of various forest scenes; rabbits hopping in meadows, frogs on lily pads, even  a family of wolves in a cave.

At the very end of the room was a mahogany casket with silver details around the edges and vine sculpted handles. The casket was nestled neatly in a pile of varies red flowers. Ireland couldn't see any lighting sources yet the room was bright as if the room had no roof to let the sun shine in. 

Ireland reached for her coin pouch as she walked towards the wooden box- having left the strange man behind at the sight of it, her gloved hand carefully going inside the velvet to pull out a small wooden doll. The first toy her father ever gave her and the toy that started their business- the young girl was so fascinated that she wanted to share the toy with the world and so they did. She helped endlessly as they made wooden toys for orphanages and boarding schools before starting up a business. 

"Open the casket please," Ireland ordered the funeral parlor owner who gladly obeyed- he watched the girl grow and knew this must be done, the start of her family's legacy going under ground with her father.

As the wood creaked opened a gasp left her as her eyes were met with red satin.

Her father's body wasn't there.