My back throbbed with the ache of a four-hours drive, despite the plush car seat being more lavish and comfortable than my own bed. I adjusted restlessly but soon the Familiarity struck me as the wrought iron gates came into view, and I couldn't help but gasp at how little had changed since my last visit. Memories flooded before my eyes, each piece vividly unfolding from our carefree youth to the tragedy of my sister's death.
A decade ago, I wasn't alone in facing this numbness; my parents and little Alianora were by my side. We had played and run throughout the expansive manor, weaving fantasies and spinning tales of fiction that we knew would never come to pass. However, upon our return, we carried Alianora in a casket—her skin pallid, her body cold, and her eyes forever closed. Despite my mother's gut-wrenching screams and my silent tears in the corner, she never opened her eyes, and I soon realized she never would.
The driveway stretched endlessly from the imposing gate to the manor, as I once again found myself admiring its beauty. Surrounded by a forest on both sides, the sun shimmered and fought its way through the spaces left by the branches and bushes.
The ground was carpeted with golden-orange leaves that danced in the wind as our car moved over them. Despite my fatigue from the long drive, I wished the journey would never end, and we'd never reach the final stretch of this enchanting driveway.
My hands, tightly clenched into fists, were now sweaty, and my nails dug into my palms, causing a dull ache. Glancing down at my lap, both fists rested on it, and my knuckles had turned white. My hands shook slightly as I looked up abruptly when the car halted before the red brick house, a structure I had once admired so much.
My eyes stung as the evening sunlight beamed directly into them. I closed my eyes abruptly, then reopened them to drink in the sight once more.
The red brick house stood tall and mocking, its ornamented windows casting judgment. The rough surface of the bricks was felt under my touch, though I dared not approach too closely.
The entrance on the ground floor awaited me like a gateway to hell, demanding payment for the sins I had committed.
As I gazed towards the top floor, a wide central window surrounded by smaller ones caught my attention. My eyes traced along the windows, and something peculiar grabbed my focus—a window slightly ajar, with a masculine silhouette vaguely visible. The angle of sunlight made it impossible to discern the face. A gust of cold air brought me back to reality, and I saw the driver already unloading my luggage, two suitcases taken inside. I looked back at the entrance door, a massive entity that seemed to loom over me.
Moving towards it, the only sounds I registered were the chirping of birds and the wind teasing the bushes. The moment was laden with an eerie calmness, heightening my awareness as I stepped forward into the unchanging past.
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YOU ARE READING
SMOKE SPIRIT
FantasyIn the quiet echoes of her solitude, Avery embraces a ghostly love, realizing too late that some connections are destined to be both beautiful and achingly ephemeral. Elic, a ghost bound to the old manor, watches as his spectral connection with Aver...
