A Knock at The Door

A dream..?

I was beginning to drift off to sleep when there's a sharp knock at the door. I struggle in my massive amounts of extremely soft blankets, trying to roll to the side to check the time on my antique clock resting on my custom made mahogany night stand, it was almost midnight. There was another louder knock on my door, "come in" I sigh. The door opened with a soft creak as I drag my body to sit up against the fluffy pillows. The kitchen boy stands on the other side, his face flushed and nervous. "What's wrong? Why are you here?" I ask calmly, still half asleep.

He straightens, and tries to hide his expression. "Miss Henrik, I need you to calmly and quietly follow me outside," with a terrible poker face and callused hands he stretches his arm towards me at the foot of my bed.

I give him a confused look and refuse his hand. "Explain yourself," I demand, slowly waking up. Why in the world would the kitchen boy need me to go outside? Out of all people, a kitchen boy.

He clenches his jaw, "please, Miss, please trust me. I'm under your brother's orders." With that I scoff softly as I glance at the velvet cord hanging by my bed. My brothers were out of the country, how could he possibly get orders from them? Still not satisfied, I persist with my chin held high. After a few moments my persistence finally reaches him,

"Ein schmetterling ruht friedlich auf einem rosenblütenblatt," he says nervously, hesitating as he spoke. He keeps his hand outstretched to me and my jaw drops as his words register in my mind. My brothers and I made up a code when I was younger. We were walking in the garden both of them holding my hands. Even back then they were skyscrapers compared to me. We used to walk for hours and one day a monarch caught my eye in which I said, "A butterfly resting peacefully on a pink petal". They are the only ones who know about this, so there's only one explanation. Corbibian and Jochen must have told him to convince me to follow him.

In shock, I finally silently nod and place my hand on his rough palm. He lets out a soft sigh of relief as he helps me up and places a warm robe over my shoulders. With soft footsteps, and a secure grip he leads me down the large carpeted, softly illuminated hallway.

There was flickering light outside, reflecting off of the delicate etched glass of gallant stallions and buttercups. Confused I walked up to one of the tall windows that lined the ends of the halls and came shy of the ceiling, but the boy stops me before I could reach my answer. "Miss, please do not look outside. Stay as quietly as possible and stay by my side." He whispers, continuing to block my way. My heart is beating so loudly I swear he can hear it. What in the world is happening?

"I demand you tell me what is going on," I commanded, trying to hide the tremble in my body. He considers my question, but with his lips sealed and just keeps walking, keeping his eyes on the end of the halls. I can hear shouting and the sounds of smashed glass coming towards us along with and ever growing flickering light that licks the shadows on the walls around it. He stops abruptly making me bump into him, feeling the slight tremors from him that I too feel within me. Turning on his heel, he runs into the closest room and tugs me along closely behind him. Putting the door softly to rest behind us, he begins to quickly inspect the walls of the room, knocking occasionally only when he dared to risk it. We wander in the enormous room holding unused furniture still covered in plastic wrapping, and a blanket of dust, captive in it's stomach. Finding what he's looking for, he punches the square indent behind one of the couches on the corner farthest from the door. The square pops out with a soft thus, and after the little dust disperses, it reveals the room next door. He takes my hand, completely ignoring my shock.

I thought I knew all the in's and out's of the mansion by the time I was ten. But clearly he knew more than me, someone who was born and raised in this house. "How did you-" he cuts me off, shushing me and placing a finger to his mouth. I reluctantly follow him through each little door he popped open, until we eventually reach a dead end.