Hello everyone! This is only a one off short story that I had to write as a university assignment. Hope you all enjoy it. Feedback is encouraged ^^ -X.
The cold walls here of my imprisonment hold no warmth for my existence. The large, rough bricks shut out any light, any sunshine, any hope, of a different life. I walk these hallways with a shiver in my step, a chip on my shoulder, and layers of clothing to protect my heart from the ice that threatens to infiltrate. The pictures of my ancestors hung systematically upon the walls show emotionless faces, their stares of disappointment drilling into my soul. If their glares could speak a thousand words, I imagine their whispers of disgust would involve ‘outcast’, ‘pariah’ and ‘rebellious’. Is it my fault that I was born on a day filled with sunshine and soft breezes? Unlike those before me, who were birthed on days filled with shadows and monstrous winds. Events shape and change our lives all the time, every day, and that is no exception of the day we were born. Today is my day of birth, and yet it is miserable.
The tapestries and curtains that are hung at every window of the place that I call ‘home’ completely block out any rays of sunlight, obliterating any chance of happiness and a bright future within this household. The servants are sullen; their uniforms bleached a stark white, a contrast to the deep shadows that lurk around every corner of this confinement.
I shuffle slowly through the monstrous rooms of this castle, listening for any sound of life, of friendship, of hope, but I hear none. The beings other than those of the servants hide in the sanctuary of their rooms, content to wither away as the darkness slowly consumes their pathetic excuses of lives. I continue to shuffle through these rooms, hearing the lonely gurgle of rain rushing through the ancient plumbing system.
I reach into the folds of my dress, searching for an item hidden for some time from the other members of my family. My fingers catch on a foreign object, its dying tendrils caressing my skin comfortingly. I unpin the object from the folds of my dress and bring it up to eye level, lovingly taking in its withering beauty. The once green and majestic tendrils now hung stiff, brown in colour and rough to touch. It does not matter to me whether it is coarse or smooth, pretty or poor… it is the memories of that day that I cherish the most. Happy for the briefest of moments, I bring the willow tree’s cut off tendril to my cheek, inhaling a smell long gone, but not forgotten. I am happy, for the briefest of moments.
I pinned the tendril back inside the folds of my skirts, so that prying eyes cannot take away my pleasures. I continue walking, allowing my feet to lead and my mind to wander.
My feet lead me to the top of the staircase, its brassy bannister shining with fresh polish. I can see my outline reflecting back at me, a shadowy figure in an equally shadowy atmosphere. But that just isn’t me! I am not a shadow, nor am I a clone of the depressive souls that inhabit this place. I crave sunshine and happiness, and wither like a flower inside the darkness. I need to break free, to live!
Movement catches my eye, and draws my attention to the events unfolding below me. A loud crash resonates throughout the foyer as one of the female servants trips over her skirts. The pile of chamber pots she was carrying clash to the ground, their contents spilling all over the cold, hard marble. Throughout the loud clashing, an almost inaudible sob escapes the woman’s mouth. My heart bleeds for the woman, and I start to make my way down the stairs to come to her aid.
Before my foot can fall upon the third step down, a shout echoes angrily around the foyer. Startled, I look around. There, coming from one of the darkest shadows of the room, strides an angry looking male, making his way swiftly towards the fallen worker. I retreat to the top of the stairs and simply watch, scared that my inclusion within this situation would make it worse for the servant, and also myself.
