Anthology of Speculative Scribblings

Shattered Recollections

Originally hosted on https://illoria.wixsite.com/annamittower/anthology-of-speculative-scribbles

The slender child lay stretched out on the dark wooden table staring up at the grand chandelier sparkling in the small shafts of sunlight permitted passage by the ivy crowding the windows. Here and there the glitter was absent or thinner as the sunlight passed over patches where stones had fallen off or had been removed. Not even the stubs of candles remained in the candle cups. Only the drips of wax encrusting the cups and the arms beneath it told of the candles which once lit this grand hall. Cobwebs and dust added their weight to the chandelier, sifting down if a breeze blew into the room from a window missing a pane of glass.

If the child bothered to sit up, from her vantage point she would be able to see the faded green velvet upholstery on the worn chairs, the dirt and leaves staining the patchy carpet, and a grand fireplace black with soot and filled with yet more detritus. But why would she bother? She had seen it enough to long be tired of it. Instead, she continued to gaze up at the chandelier and the rainbows dancing across the ceiling. It wouldn't last for long. The sun had to shine at precisely the right angle to penetrate through the ivy and, even as she watched, the sun moved too far and the rainbows ceased their play.

The room resumed its normal dull, dim appearance and she slowly sat up, looking around her. The room had once been magnificent, a grand hall filled with banquets and the chatter of finely dressed people. But all those were shadows that she could barely remember now. She couldn't even remember the smell or taste of the food.

With a sigh, she slid herself to the edge of the table and hopped down. Without the sun to decorate the rooms, the mansion sat in hushed shadowed stillness as she silently wandered through the rooms. The library had once provided her with endless hours of entertainment, but now the tomes had disintegrated into dust, their contents completely beyond access. Bereft of any entertainment or task, she decided to sit in the evening parlor room which overlooked the garden and observe the flowers.

The garden had long shed its manicured appearance and morphed into a wild jungle of plants, trees, and vines, but many of the flowers remained and thrived, showing as splashes of color against the dense greenery. Their petals glowed prettily in the remaining sunlight, the flowers swaying slightly in the breeze which stirred the air outside. Mesmerized, the girl sat in the window seat with her head against the glass and stared down at the garden. She only moved when the sunlight completely disappeared, plunging the mansion into total darkness.

Tonight was the night of a new moon so there would be no moonlight to enjoy. Even the stars hid themselves behind the thickening clouds. Resigned to a boring night, the girl left the parlor and wandered aimlessly. Eventually, her feet took her to the library. Empty as it was, being in that room could bring up the memories of what she'd read, filling the night with something other than darkness.

Halfway through a retelling of her favorite love story, she paused and cocked her head. There it came again: a noise not made by the mansion. She knew all of its noises by now and this was not one of them. It brought back a shadow of a memory. She'd heard that noise before, long ago.

Ah!

A footstep. That was it. A foot stepping on thick carpet which muffled the sound. That had confused her ears at first.

Curious, she rose out of the chair and slowly approached the wide open door into the hall. When she looked around the doorway, she saw a figure entering the hall from a stair which led to a lower level. In the figure's hand glowed a light. It was only a small candle, but it lit the darkness in the hall enough for her to see the figure more clearly.

The person, for it was a human, holding the candle had brown hair cropped short and the smooth unblemished skin of the young, but his clothes were so unfamiliar that she had no idea what he was actually wearing. It all blended into a mix of blue with dashes of silver. The young man paused once in the hall and held up the candle to examine the portraits on the wall. Dust settled in all the brushstrokes, obscuring the subjects and he had to use a cloth to wipe them off before he could see their faces.