Obscured in the Depths

We live in a massive house, a mansion, in fact. But it’s become an old, run-down thing. It must have been standing here for years, perched on this hill in the middle of nowhere where the stiff, frosted grass rolls on forever and disappears into the distant fog. The thick darkness of clouds churn by overhead in a perpetual loop, and the only thing that touches the earth is the stinging rain or billowing snow. Chilly winds constantly sweep the grounds like an endless storm is always on its way. How strange it is to feel so alone when living with three others.

            I don’t know any of their names, despite how long we’ve been here. The golden-maned lion seems to hold a seat of authority, always trailed by the slim, quiet greyhound. They don’t have a care in the world about me; they don’t want to have anything to do with me. They ignore my existence. But there is one other girl here. She has hair the color of caramel and a kind flash of a smile. The only thing that makes her different is the veil over her eyes. The glossy eyes that are unable to perceive. For this, it seems, she is treated like a newborn, especially by the others.

            In their presence I am to keep my distance. At least I have learned that over the time I’ve been here. I am the observer, the outsider. But whenever they are I must be there. As long as they are outside in the biting cold, I must be outside, and as long as they reside within the house I must remain within the house. The lion treats the girl like a sister as I gaze upon their folly from afar. It seems that is the only thing I’ve done for all my life, and I know everything about them.

            Like me, the greyhound only observes, but he is always close at hand for the lion if his services are needed, a loyal servant. Only towards Sister does the lion ever show kindness, and beyond her presence he is another. He becomes a frightening creature. He thrashes about and destroys all. He attacks the greyhound with violent words that are never met with defense. When I can I stay away, stowed away in the barren room that is my sanctuary, and it seems Sister is locked away, too, in a part of the house where I can never find her.

            From what I have heard, the lion is this way for a reason. Bad things have happened to him. Where we live in this house is only a few yards away from the ruined rubble of his old life. The home of his youth had been burned to the ground along with any memories of his family. Now, all that he had left was the loyal greyhound. The only one who treats me like I exist, treats me like I’m someone, is Sister.

            Sometimes she sneaks away from wherever they lock her up to my room. She’ll enter the cold, dark place and kneel down in front of me with those eyes that do not see and talk to me. It frightened me at first. No one has ever spoken to me before her. But she was kind and gentle, and deep inside me I needed someone to look at me as if they saw me, so I would let her stay. I rarely replied to anything she said, but she would go on talking anyways. I learned how independent she was under that veil that hid her eyes. She’d tell me about forbidden places she has been, beyond the hill, and her stories intrigued me. Her favorite place to escape to was an old garden at the bottom of the hill, but I could only imagine how bleak and dead it has become if it had ever had life at all. But the words she weaved into my mind made it seem like a beautiful place. A safe haven. A way out. I dreaded when she would leave; I could only return to my solitude.

            I didn’t exactly know why we weren’t allowed to leave this house or any area directly around it. Any memories I might have had before coming to this dreaded house had disintegrated long ago. I was never told anything, but Sister seemed to know everything. Every day was a routine. The routine never changed. At least not until Sister disappeared.

            It was chaos. The lion especially descended into a dangerous rage and I became aware that he, in fact, cared not for her, but himself and his well-being. But, as always, the greyhound stood by. If my life had once slipped off the tightrope of nightmares, it most definitely still had a hold, growing stronger by the passing moments. I had to get her back. She was the only one who would speak to me, the only one who could save me from the depths of insanity. But the others could not leave; refused to leave, refused to find her. She had broken the rigid routine, and in the back of my mind I was curious to see what would happen.