Random Imagines

Imagine a Horror Story (part 1)

This is a somewhat specific OC. Enjoy.

A single light gleamed from the distance, almost as if it were a floating spectre; the house it glowed from was so dark that its sheer size was swallowed by the night. Even as the car approached only portions of the house were visible. The visible parts arched up into the sky, stretching into eternity.

The car stuttered to a stop. Helen took a deep breath, slipping out of the vehicle and closing the door behind her, but no before grabbing a large rolling suitcase that dragged across the gravel of the driveway. She gave the man a reasonable tip, to which he smiled and tipped his hat politely at her, before leaving.

She studied the massive villa before her, approaching cautiously. Still, curiosity spilled over her mind, thoughts wandering at the endless potential of such a massive house.

It looked almost like a dollhouse, with shapely pillars and stone steps decorating the front façade. The gaping porch opened like that of a yawning cavern, like empty blotches on a painting. Tapering pinnacles soared skywards, alongside the triangular rooftops, all creating the convincing illusion of grandeur. The roofs were a lighter shade of pink, as opposed to the monotonous gray of the wooden exterior. The glass was cold and dark, with no sign of light or warmth echoing from the inside. Despite the heated summer wind, Helen felt herself shiver.

She stepped forward, jogging up the stairs. The wood creaked beneath her feet, bending slightly under the weight of her feet. She stared up at the massive double doors, black as ink, with two massive golden knockers protruding from the polished surface. She stepped forward, swallowing. She raised her hand to knock.

Suddenly, the door flung open, making Helen flinch back. There stood a frowning, elderly woman, her eyes narrowed, and hands clasped tightly together. Her hair was snow white, her eyes coal black, her grey cheeks pale and round and pursed lips white. Her thinning hair was wrapped up in a tight, skinning bun at the top of her head. She was tall, at nearly 5 foot nine, but her body was frail, all bone and angles. She was scowling deeply, her thin eyebrows arched in apparent disdain.

"Helena Amara Vane?" Her voice cut through the air sharply, like glass. Helen swallowed.

"Just Helen please, ma'am."

The woman pursed her lips. "Very well." She glanced down at her watch, eyes cold and beady. She glanced up, and Helen felt her breath hitch.

"Come along now. You're already quite late."

Tension bled from her shoulders as the matronly figure ushered her inside and shut the door. Helen glanced around, open-mouthed, at the sheer grandeur of the interior. A yawning ceiling opened above her, the sheer vastness attempting to swallow her whole. Dimly lit candles covered the room, and Helen could only assume that the place was even more magnificent during the day. The elderly matron in front of her came to a sudden and abrupt halt. She spun around, eyes sharp and scrutinizing.

"My name is Agatha Morgan. You will refer to me as Miss Morgan."

Helen nodded absent-mindedly, still taken by the gorgeous villa she was in. Agatha's eyes narrowed. Wordlessly, she spun around, marching elegantly up the stairs.

"Where are you going, Agatha?" Helen blurted out, and Agatha froze. She glanced back, eyes narrowed.

"It's Miss Morgan, Miss Vane. And I assume you don't know your way around the mansion. You will have tomorrow off to familiarize yourself with the mansion. Until then, you will still require an escort to take you to your room. Now, if you don't mind, can we hurry along?"

Helen felt an embarrassed, angry blush coat her cheeks, and she ducked her head. Speechless, she followed behind the elderly woman, feeling slightly ashamed and offended.