The Vault

2.

Noisy gusts of wind crashed against Alice's bedroom window like waves upon the shore as she lay awake in bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she mentally traced around the edges of the strange patterns that decorated it. There was no description for those shapes she thought to herself.

Her room was now full of things she had brought from home, despite this, it made her feel no more at home than she had when the place was empty, and these sleepless nights had become frequent since their move. Maybe it was the noisy weather, or the damp cold within the mansion, but something was keeping her up endlessly, and she couldn't help but feel it was the eerie sense of not belonging inside that place.

It was no use, she couldn't sleep, so answering the urges from within her bored brain, she slowly arose from bed and lit a candle from the table beside her.

Doing her best not to disturb her increasingly grumpy father from his slumber, she tiptoed across the creaky landing, and down those cold stone steps of the staircase. Sneaking into the kitchen, Alice poured herself a glass of milk, and went to make her way back upstairs, before something caught her notice.

Inside the dense darkness that engulfed her, she noticed a small flickering of a candle from the library next door. The candle had all but burnt out, so it's surroundings were faint, but inching closer towards it in the dark, she could make out her father, who was sat still as anything facing the window out to the garden.

It hadn't taken long for Abraham to lose his new found optimism from the move, maybe it had been the stress of the move, or the fact that the many repairs the house required had kept him away from writing, but for whatever reason it was, he had been spending countless nights sat up inside the library, staring bleakly out of the window, searching for mental inspiration amongst the overgrowth of nature.

"Father?" Alice asked quietly.

Abraham did not reply.

She walked a little closer to him, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Must you disturb me while I try to write?" He said mumbled dryly.

Alice looked at the paper next to the candle, it was blank as the expression on her father's face. Next to it, was an empty bottle of whisky. It appeared that he failed to find inspiration in the natural surroundings he found himself, and instead, looked for it at the bottom of expensive liquor.

"Father, you won't find any use sitting up this late, you need your mind fully rested and free if you are going to have any luck," she said calmly. "Go to bed."

"My nights are sleepless."

"Mine too, but it is only while we get used to our surroundings."

"Do you hear it too?" Abraham said strangely.

"Hear what?" Alice replied, looking at his eyes and noticing their intent stare out into the garden. The little flicker of light from his candle burned close to the wick, causing his dark brown iris' to glow.

"The wind. I've never heard it so clearly, almost as if it is making a call to me, a longing and lonely call."

"Perhaps it is saying that you need to lay off the whiskey?" Alice replied.

"Very funny. You have your mother's wit," he said with a small smirk. "You have her ability to cheer me up too it appears."

A sharp wind from outside whistled through the trees then knocked against the window in front of them and the little flicker from Abraham's candle burned out, causing the small glow of his hazel eyes to fade away.

"It's late, go to bed Father, tomorrow I will do whatever work needs to be done on the house, you can stay here and try to write."

Abraham patted his daughter's hand in appreciation, and rose up out of his chair. They walked back up the stairs and to the doors of their respective bedrooms.

Just before Abraham went inside, he spoke out to his daughter.

"Inside my head, I have the most perfect sentences, then when I sit down, they vanish. Almost as if the voices in the wind outside have stolen the very words I wish to write."

"You just need clarity, and a bottle of whisky a day is certainly not going to help," Alice scolded him. "Good night Father."

As she placed the candle down on her bedside table, Alice couldn't help but worry about the cryptic behaviour her father was expressing lately. She tucked herself away in her duvet as the blustery wind outside tried to whisper through her window.

The candle stayed lit for the rest of that night.