31 Days

21 - Crystal

Warning(s): mentions of death

It had been years. Years since his feet roamed those halls. Years since he'd danced in the ballroom. Years since he'd wandered the gardens. He couldn't deny that he had missed it, but at the same time, he didn't necessarily want it all back.

And yet, there he was, riding in his carriage back to the manor.

His manor now.

Sorrow swelled in him to think that he was now the sole proprietor of the estate. It should've been full of life and laughter, full of men and women and family, full of memories and happiness. But now it was abandoned, never to see those things again.

And it had been thus for seven years. Not a soul had stepped foot in it since the incident six years prior, shortly after he'd left for the militia.

The carriage turned on to the all too familiar gravel path and he felt himself grow nervous. He wasn't sure he wanted to return. Maybe it was a mistake.

Don't be foolish, he chided himself. You're the only one left. You must. If not to reside there, then at least to oversee its selling.

He tugged at his collar and took a deep breath. The driveway wasn't short, so he had a moment to compose himself. He didn't need to look outside the carriage window to know his proximity to the house. Instinct and memory crept up on him and haunted him like the ghosts of fairytales old.

The carriage slowed to a stop and he closed his eyes for a brief moment. By the time the driver had opened the door, he had complete control of his emotions. He stepped out of the carriage.

"Wait for me here, I shall be done shortly," he instructed the driver.

The driver nodded and he set off up the steps to the doors.

He paused at the door, but only for a moment. The door swung open as though it hadn't remained shut for six years. He could feel his breath catch in his chest.

The manor was dark as the deepest pit of the Underworld, and a fine layer of dust covered nearly everything. A few silvery, delicate cobwebs swayed gently in the sudden breeze, and he was sure there were more littered throughout the place. Reminding himself to breathe again (but not too deeply so as to avoid clogging his lungs with dust), he forced himself forward to open some of the curtains.

Dust rained down and he coughed as light streamed in through the grimy windows. There was no doubt the place hadn't sheltered a living soul in years. He slowly but surely made his way through the parlor, the ballroom, the entirety of the ground floor, opening drapes and a couple windows to ventilate the closed up space.

Each room he set foot in brought back a flood of memories. Him and his mother tasting sweets in the kitchen, his younger brother running wildly through the ballroom, his sister drawing in the parlor. An unexpected tear fell from his eye.

There once was so much life and joy in this place. But it would never be the same. It never could be the same.

Fighting down his emotions, he made his way back to the foyer. He steeled himself before making his way up the beautiful spiral staircase. As his hand brushed the railing, he vividly remembered his brother sliding down the banister with the grin of a trouble-maker, only to be yelled at by one of the maids. The memory was so intense he drew his hand back and froze, feeling the sorrow he'd locked away beginning to bubble and rise in his chest. But, nevertheless, he pushed on.

He reached the landing and his eye caught the large crystal chandelier hanging over the foyer.

"When I get married, I want my husband to have a chandelier just like that one," she said.

He laughed. "What if he doesn't?"

"Then I simply won't marry him!"

He laughed as she crossed her arms stubbornly, making her giggle.

He reeled and grabbed the banister, his breath not coming fast enough. It all came flooding back to him.

"You can't run through the ballroom like that, silly!"

"I will do as I please!"

"Your brother is right, you know."

"But, Mother!"

"I told you so."

He could see his brother and sister so vividly, could hear their voices like they were standing directly next to him. He almost thought he had returned to his childhood. Everything was perfect; no responsibilities, no war, just laughter and love. But then...

"Your brother was in an accident. He didn't make it."

"Your father was taken as a prisoner of war."

"Your mother has fled with your sister to Sicily."

One tragedy to led to another which led to another until he was the last living member of his family.

He didn't realize the sobs echoing in the foyer were his own until then. He felt the floor beneath his knees and palms, digging directly into the bones and pressing the skin and cloth flush against the carpet.

Get it together, man, for God's sake!

He managed to get on his feet again and tried to regain control of his breathing and reign in his tears. After a couple minutes, he had returned to his composed, unbothered state. He knew he couldn't make it any further into the house without breaking down altogether, so he decided to stop then and there. He knew the driver would notice his red, watery eyes, but if he asked, he'd simply say it was merely the dust inside the house.

This place holds no affection from me now. It's time to pass it on to another family, one that would be infinitely happier here than I could ever be.

He made his way down the staircase, feeling his strength grow with every step. At the front door, he paused for a moment. He looked back at the chandelier over his shoulder.

"You can't go, you can't! I won't let you!"

"I have to, it's my duty. I'll come back for you two, don't worry."

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the empty house to any remaining spirits of the life the manor had known before.

He turned and strode off, shutting the door without looking back.

A/N: can you tell this was heavily influenced by The Count of Monte Cristo and a little bit of Phantom of the Opera? We love some angsty 1800s vibes hehe