Poison Ivy

Note: This story is set in the 1800's.

Poison Ivy

     An icy breeze picked up a few lone fallen leaves, sending them skittering around over the cobblestone. The only sounds heard in the wintry morning were the quiet, pattering steps of a solitary girl as she made her way down the path. She rubbed her arms, silently chastising herself for not bringing a coat along. Her light steps echoed in the otherwise silent morning until they finally stopped in front of a bench in her garden. She loved being by herself in the early morning where she could be alone with her thoughts. It was a bittersweet feeling to her though, since she always felt alone anyway. Looking toward the mansion she came from, she mentally pictured an earthquake shaking apart the house. She shook this image from her head and opened up the book she had brought with as the sun began to shine through the trees into the garden. The girl lost herself in the fantasy of the novel and left her own world behind to dream about another.

    “Elizabeth!” The girl was startled out of her reading as her housekeeper hurried over to her.

    "Yes?” Elizabeth answered calmly as she unwillingly put her book down.

     "Come inside for breakfast. You'll get a cold out here."

     “Yes ma'am."

     Elizabeth reluctantly departed from her bench in the garden, carrying the book she was so engrossed in along with her. After eating her breakfast, she sat on her windowsill and finished the novel who's fantasy world she clung onto just to escape the real world. Sighing, she wandered to the library and put the completed novel back on the shelf covered with books she already read. It was the last volume she could find that had something to do with a different world or that would be willing to take her far away from the lonely mansion she lived in now. Looking around for a new book to lose herself in, she spent endless minutes searching for something besides her father's political documents or his never-ending supply of papers on scientific exploration. She didn't know why he had them all since he was never home to read them.

     Elizabeth was almost going to give up the search for the drug that kept her going through the lengthy winter days and through the long, bleak years. She reminded herself that she only had to wait until she turned eighteen, where she would be of suitable age for marriage. All of this, only to start the cycle over again- trapped inside a mansion and locked in a box, who's only purpose was to play the role of wife for some rich political figure, used more as a pretty doll than anything. She would be sure to check to see that her suitors all had extensive libraries.

     Her eyes fell on a glass case, guarding a few old books. Her interest heightened as she walked over to the glass case and realized they were not of political or scientific nature, which was good enough for her. Looking around for where the key could be, she miraculously heard keys jingle as a custodian walked into the library and began to sweep. He was a frail looking old man, his hunchback only showing his old figure off more. His balding head sported a few solitary white hairs that attempted to make their appearance known, to not be ignored and not be forgotten as their existence withered. She looked him up and down, and doubted he would open the case for her, seeing as it was locked. So, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

     Waiting until he bent down to dust some shelves, she reached behind him and quickly grabbed the keys from his belt. Quickly scurrying away before he noticed, she waited until he was done cleaning before reentering to check if the coast was clear. She determined no one was around, so she stepped in front of the case keeping her from her cure to life. Elizabeth carefully slipped the jingling key into the lock and turned it. The distinct click of tumbler let her know that the locked case was now open for her to pry through. Barely hiding her excitement, her hand reached in and began to run across the old bindings. One in particular caught her eye, as it was covered in embossing of leaves stretching from the center out to the edges. She pulled it out and brushed off the dust indicative of years of never being handled.