The Unknown Universe of Drafts

Ghost of Love

The night was dead and all was still, but if you could listen closely, behind the flickering of the streetside lamps and dying chirps of the crickets falling asleep, one can hear the ethereal melody of love threading through the breeze. The wind sang a song of loss. Brisk across the silent city of midnight and meander through the thick woods which surrounds the entire estate, you can find the ancient mansion hid behind thick trees of evergreen oak.

Take a step closer and peek through the windows. Servants clad in a simple rust-coloured tunic scurried along the corridors, carrying napkins and essential items, rushing about to finish last minute dusting and touch-ups. Zoom into a particular door, and one can awe at the sight of a never-ending flow of maids and lady-in-waitings. They displayed all sorts of ribbons, accessories, bundles of colourful dresses garnished with exquisite gems, mother of pearls and extravagant feathers. Almost like lifeless mannequins down a runway in an exhibition.

Inside, the room was a mess, a complete disaster mocking the aftermath of a raging war gone wrong. And in the middle of it all, the ringmaster of the chaos stood the all-so-powerful woman of the house, Lady Danbury. She was a woman of great wit and size, her leopard print dress tight around her body. It almost seems like a size or two smaller than the original. Nonetheless, the restraint was not enough to prevent her from calling orders. "Chop! Chop! Hurry up! This is a party, not a funeral! I have guests! And where is my daughter?" Immediately, a petite girl with pigtails attended to her. "Well?" Danbury demanded and the girl flinched, startled and intimidated by her size.

"S-she... I mean, Ms Ambrogina is in her room, ma'am." The girl replied.

"Tell her to hurry then."

"See anyone you like? How about that one? Oh no, he picks his nose; don't choose him. No standards. How about that young gentleman over there then?" Lady Danbury pointed at Earl Blake Fortescue, a black laced fan discreetly (not so much) covering her face behind it. "I don't think he has a wife yet. Oh, darling, Ambrogina! You have to pick one of them sooner or later. The flock's not gonna last and you aren't fresh out of the oven anymore. You're already an old twenty-five in her pathetic sixth season and yet -"

"Five and twenty, Mother," Gina corrected, eyes scanning the packed room. "And I would very much like to take my time in picking the perfect man. You wouldn't want to choose a random man as your husband on a whim and expect to stay happy for the rest of your life, do you?" Gina was a wallflower, her dull aquamarine dress blending into the sapphire of the wallpaper behind her. She watched the couples danced, dresses and suits clashing into one another like waves of an ocean live with colours.

"You can't be a wallflower all your life either, you know..." Gina turned swiftly, only to meet the long curls of her mother's luscious hair. She sighed and continued taking her time in search of her one true one when she noticed a man in tattered grey slipped in just before the strike of midnight. With much curiousity, she watched the mysterious man slithered along the perimeter of the room, molding in and out of the shadows to take a peek at the crowd. 

Once, she caught him staring at a woman don in red for a moment too long before sliding into the darkness again. Gina waited for the man's head to poke out again, but it never did for the man had just decided to slip out of the room through a cream-coloured door. Gina decided to follow him. She checked for her mother and after making sure she was busy gossiping with the other guests, she hiked up her skirt and took off, meandering through the crowd. 

The man was getting further and Gina picked up speed, her walk growing into a run with each step. No one paid her attention when she slipped through the cream-coloured door. After shutting the door with a soft click, she turned and almost jumped, for the man stood directly before her. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was deathly pale, tear stains running down his cheeks.

"Oh!" Gina gasped. "H-hello. I thought you were lost." The man continued to stare at her, his gaze unwavering. "Were you searching for a drawing room? I can guide you to your destination." Gina tried to smile, a little too much, her cheeks hurt.

The man said nothing. He held out his hand and pushed something into her's. It was a ring. Gina blinked. She stared down at the ring and for a moment, though it was all a joke and wanted to laugh. However, she kept quiet when she heard his sudden intake of a breath. His voice came out almost like a whimper, voiceless and faint. "Please... Bring this to the woman in red. She will understand. I know Harriet will." He looked up at her with pleading eyes, and immediately she felt guilty for wanting to laugh at the poor man. 

Then, he whispered, "Go..." He pushed her and she fell right through the door, into a dark abyss...

... And right before the feet of the woman in red. Gina was shocked. She could not believe it. She blinked once. And again. Then, she looked up at the red woman who stared down at her with much amusement. She flipped her fan open and covered her mouth, eyes twinkling with humour. Immediately, Gina's cheeks turned a rose red and she hurried to her feet. That was when she felt something fall. It was the ring. Picking it up, she glanced up at the woman in red, Harriet, who was now staring at the ring with stillness intensity. "Where... Where did you get it?" Harriet asked and Gina handed her the ring. Pearls of tears rolled down Harriet's porcelain cheeks and it was not before long she started sobbing. All Gina could do was watch the woman in red weep, staining her dress into a darker shade of crimson.

For a moment, Gina thought it looked faintly like blood.

The next day, Ambrogina was reading the daily news when a particular article caught her attention: Ring returned to Harriet Hemmingway after Five Years of Husband's Disappearance.

"Ready to go?" Gina looked up to meet the eyes of her new acquaintance. Blake Fortescue offered a hand to her and she smiled, setting the papers aside and placing her hand delicately on his.

A silver ring shimmered with a radiance brighter than the ghost of death, hugged her finger.

Just the fourth finger. 

On the left hand. So that she could hold it close to her heart.