The archive of the forgotten

A nightingale and his golden cage

I look at the snowy tops of the mountains towering above the carriage. My eyes beg me to close them but everytime I do it the road seems to become a whole lot more uneven. So I'll just stay tired, I hate the fact that my father is always to incredibly afraid to be late. I sigh. 'and what's your reason to be annoyed?" My irritated father asks. I frown, surprised by his reaction. "I just don't get it! Nothing can possibly be worth a three day journey like this." I snap back. If he wants to be irritated, I'll be annoyed. My father fiddles with his cufflinks decorated with our signet. "This person is! And I'll be the one to decide that Alexios. And that is final." He says curtly. I scoff and try to loosen my uncomfortably high collar and light a cigarette. "No smoking in the carriage." My father says before I get the chance to really light it, I scoff again. "Enough of this nervosity. We have already seen the king! Nobody else is important enough to get you to walk with a stick up your arse!" I exclaim "don't talk like that Alexios!" He says "and calm down, you won't have to come inside. You can smoke there, the gardens there seem to be absolutely magical. You've always liked gardens. You'll see. It's going to be worth it." I sigh and smile "yes father." 

We arrive at a beautiful golden gate. My father steps out of the carriage and I see him talking to the guards. The guards inspect the carriage and look suspiciously at me for a second. But than the guard nods my father gets back in the carriage. They let us in. I look at the nature surrounding us, beautiful lime trees, oaks and pine trees. The estate is trapped between two massive mountains, everywhere you look are mountains, it is mesmerising I haven't seen anything like it. I'm surprised how big the is as we need to ride several long minutes when we arrive. Sometimes you see a house that must be some kind of guest house as they all turn out to be not the main one. There are all kinds of animals walking through the estate, tame horses, wild ones, swans, doves, squirrels and foxes. I look at the beautiful swans slowly swimming in the blue lake. I wonder if they are used to humans, strangely I have always been afraid of them.

We finally arrive in the less rugged, the more planned, more refined part of the estate, it begins to looks more stuck up, the way important people usually behave and design their gardens. There's are carefully engineered plant pattens at the parterre, incredible fountains of gold or marble, a tiny chapel, several parterre's, a huge pond with a massive fountain in the middle of the pond. The parterre leads to broad staircases intricately leading to a little music pavilion, it could be a temple too, or simply artwork. I am baffled by the precision, the art, the wealth. I step out of the carriage. The beautiful white palace with it's 'modest' golden details is surprisingly 'small' when you compare it to the size of the rest of the estate. "Why is it so....'modest'?" Modest.... It is not the right word, not at all as every single window is accompanied by marble gods and philosophers. It is intricate, it's absolutely absurd but beautiful nonetheless. "Only one person lives here." I look at my father in disbelief. This is home fit for a family, A home fit for a god.

A butler comes up to us and takes my father the primes minister (who had another carriage) inside. I catch a glimpse from the absurdity of the golden inside of the palace. It must be beautiful, exorbitant, extravangant but beautiful nonethelesss......

I walk around the palace, looking at the beautiful parterres inspecting the beautiful orange and lemon trees. Asking myself where the greenhouse could be, but it could be anywhere, I doubt I could cross this whole estate on foot. I arrive at the back of the palace, I'm welcomed by a beautiful fountain of Poseidon's and some tritons, the white stone reminds me of the ones in Rome or back home but when I let my eyes stray I discover even more beauty. There are passages made of roses and wine plants. And the water for the fountain is cascading a long, beautiful white set of stairs. I'm absolutely mesmerised.

I look at the house as I get a cigarette. My eye falls onto a very realistic statue inside made out of beautiful pale marble. It looks incredibly lifelike. It's wearing intricate blue clothing and his silver hair is cascading down his shoulders, he shyly looks out of the window with the white curtains beautifully draped in his elegant hand. My eyes try to see the details quickly and my body makes them look down to light my cigarette. I look back at the statue, now without haste. I feel incredible surprise in my heart as the statue seems to startle as I look directly at him, he flutters his eyes two times, like a deer in the headlights. Than he swiftly closes the curtain. I stare at the window, he must've been about my age, he was..... that boy was.....beautiful, so heaven-like. I feel a strange burning sensation in my stomach. I must be coming down with something.... maybe it's the mountain air.

I can't help but stare at the window for the rest of the time. Hopeful my angelic statue boy returns. But alas...."Alexios," my father says. "I know I promised we'd go home." he says, I look at my father "please say we'll stay for a bit"

preview chapter one

When I wake up I try to pretend I am asleep most times. But most of the time times it also doesn't work. The staff knows me far too well, they see that my eyes flutter, but still a lad can hope..... So, I don't move a muscle till one of my lovely care-takers will scold me out of my bed with the same array of sentences every day like, "You won't be ready when they arrive" or "a prince can't be lazy" perhaps this one, "a prince doesn't have the time to linger" or my absolute favourite "maybe you shouldn't have stayed up so late!" Yes, miss Margot is a darling, that's for certain. I open my eyes and briefly look at the beautiful royal blue canopy before standing up. I take a deep breath and look up at the absurd painting of apollo's chariot and wonder of he dreads the day too. (Perhaps he is a morning person). Lady Margot asks the same question she always does, since I way about seven years old: "So marius, are you ready to behave?" I can't help but chuckle about it every morning. Today I smile and put my hand on her shoulder her you once youthfull face has made place for the drawings of the time, telling us the was more fond of frowning than smiling. I look down at her and smile lightly as I say quietly "certainly, just like every morning before' I say. The familiar frown of work makes place for a second of joy. But only a second, we cannot afford more! 

Had some inspiration! It was absolutely fun writing this and I think I might really make this a book as i have some things prepared for it.

A nightingale and his golden cage is a book about confusion, isolation, love and belonging. A prince feels trapped in a world of absolute luxury. Not figuratively but quite litterally. After a new blooming friendship and a shocking discovery his life starts to change from the routines he has been confined to since the age of seven. Is it possible that he could become someone else than the one he wa meant to be?