Caverns and Corridors

Caverns and Corridors part 1

I ran down the path away from my Aunt and my Horrid Cousin James. He was throwing a hissy fit, yet again, because the family maid had packed the wrong type of marmalade for our picnic. He didn’t like the kind with seeds. Yeah, I know what you are thinking. Pretty much all marmalade has seeds it in. Aunt Victoria had noticed I was getting frustrated and sent me off to take some photographs. That was after all, the entire reason I had come here this summer.

I was about to enter my last year of high school and was determined to get a scholarship to the Art Institute of Vancouver, with a focus in photography and graphic design. My mom and dad had graciously sent me to England to visit my Aunt Victoria and Uncle Robert and Horrid Cousin James, so I could work on my photography. Aunt Victoria was a world-renowned wildlife photographer and I had learned so much under her tutelage this summer.

“Don’t go too far now dear! We are going to head back to the manor in two hours for tea!” She called to me as I scrambled down the gravel path towards the ruins I had been begging for days to come out and photograph. I waved back to indicate that I had heard her, and slowed my pace as I got to the bottom of the hill close to the ruins.

I crawled around them, taking pictures of half-collapsed arches, stone doors that were crumbling, and in one section, I found a bunch of stone plaques that I believed could be gravestones. If only Uncle Robert were with us, he was an archaeologist, and would be able to make the faded carvings more legible for me. I sighed at the thought and hoped we could come back with him before I flew back to Canada in a week’s time.

The sun burned in to my back, an oddly warm day for Oxfordshire, and I gulped gratefully from the water bottle Aunt Victoria had made sure I brought with me. I lifted my sunhat and swept some sweat from my brow, glad that I had french braided my bright red hair. As I switched lenses, aiming to get a photo of a clump of bright yellow flowers growing from a pile of collapsed bricks, I noticed a dark patch a few feet away that looked like some type of hole or doorway.

I approached it slowly, worried that it might be the home of some sort of feral badger or other animal. I had already dealt with James’ hissy fit today, I didn’t need a cranky badger on top of that. I cleared some of the rocks away and realized what it was.

A staircase.

It was an almost-intact staircase, leading down under the rest of the ruins that I was standing in. I straightened and stared around, making sure I was alone. I just wanted to nip down for a second and get some photos, before Auntie Victoria came a long and got mad at me for going off somewhere unknown alone.

I descended the stairs, glancing at the stone columns that stacked up on either side, glancing back a few times to make sure I could still see the sunlight. As I reached the bottom, I reached in to my camera bag for one of the emergency manual flashbulbs I carried with me for different shots, lighting it to use as a flashlight. I glanced down into a decimated corridor, stones everywhere, the dank and damp smell infiltrating my nostrils.

“Eurgh!” I cried, as I took a tentative step forward, stepping on a dead rat. It was only recently dead and it squished below my sturdy boot. I scraped off as much as I could against the bottom step and was about to head back up when I heard what sounded like faint laughter.

I turned back down the dark corridor, lifting my makeshift flashlight higher to try and get a better look.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I called. How awkward would that be if I had stumbled on to some sort of hideout or den for thieves? I shook my head. That was silly. I was talking like it was the 16th century and I was on the hunt for pirates’ gold. I took a step forward, stepping over the desiccated rat carcass this time, and carefully moved down. I stopped every few feet to get shots of the inside of the ruined corridor, the collapsing pillars looked like stacks of book at a library, waiting to be re shelved but sealed forever in a tomb of stone.

I glanced over my shoulder, I could still see the sunlight from behind me, I decided I would only go until I couldn’t see it anymore. Before that happened though, I paused at a bend to take a sip of water and get a shot of the ceiling, it looked like it was made of hundreds of skulls that had rotted out over time and were hanging there, as a warning to trespassers of what would happen if you got stuck down here.

As I knelt to take the shot I realized there was a glimmer of light coming from around the corner, and again, I heard that tinkling of laughter. I paused, my heart pounding in my chest, and I leaned forward, peeking around the bend, down the foggy walkway and saw an astounding sight.

A man, and a woman, dressed like ancient royalty, walked, three beautiful girls dancing around them. That was the laughter, middle child, with brazen red hair was laughing and prancing with a young boy who had a wooden sword at his side. I stepped around the bend and watched them.

The red head spun around with the boy some more and then saw me. She stopped spinning.

“Who’s that?” She called, her voice hollow and echoing. Everyone stared towards me and I lifted my arm and waved, tentatively, until I heard the voice of what could only be a king respond to her.

“There is no one there, my daughter” He said, sternly. Red head frowned.

“I can see her though, father. She’s wearing funny clothes. They look like a mans breeches but they are awfully tight...and she has some sort of contraption in her hand.” She said, staring at me.

I stepped towards her and she stepped back in fright.

I stopped.

Our eyes met, the exact same shade of blue connecting.

The father and Mother were whispering staring at their daughter in fright.

“Elizabeth, perhaps it’s time you had another rest for awhile?” Her mother suggested, gently.

Elizabeth. We have the same name, I thought. I heard it called behind me.

“ELIZABETH! WHERE ARE YOU?” Aunt Victoria shouted. I stepped back towards the corridor I’d come through, not taking my eyes off the spectral princess a few feet in front of me.

She was screaming now, on the floor. Apparently when her mother suggested she take a rest it didn’t mean a nap.

“I won’t!” She cried, sobbing. “I won’t go back there! I won’t go back to the tower! I’m not crazy”

I stepped forward again, standing where I had been standing when she had first seen me.

“Elizabeth! It’s time to head back to the Manor now! Where are you?” Aunt Victoria called to me.

The girls brother stared at me, maybe he could see me?

His sister was sobbing, guards running towards her, her mother crying in distress. Red Head Elizabeth was screaming, she looked up and made eye contact with me, opening her mouth, as if to call for help.

I turned.

I ran.

I booked it up to the top of the stairs, as fast as I could, leaping over the dead rat on to the second step, and tore up out into the bright sunlight and into Aunt Victoria’s arms.

“There you are! Let’s go home!” She said, smiling. Home. Home sounded wonderful. Wonderful and safe.