Monsters

The Vestibule

I think it must have started when I was very young, my fear of portraits. I mustn't have been past, perhaps 7 (I have no recollection of heart stopping trauma before that age) when it occurred to me that I had no way of looking at the family portrait above the little hall table in the vestibule.
You recall the one I refer to, don't you? The one with my Mama and Grandpapa and some other children.
You questioned my leaving it as we finished removing everything of emotional concern from the other house.
It is well past time for my explanations to you, as this letter is full of confessions regardless.

- monsters -

It wasn't the first time I had woken up in a cold fit of fear, and even at the early age of 7, I knew it wouldn't be the last.
The dreams, nightmares really, had been frequenting my sleep at an increased rate since my little sister and brother had been born, around the time my mother had seen fit for me to have my own chambers.

The rooms I had since acquired weren't quite the appartments that my many little friends had, but they were still grand nonetheless. To get from the Green Room - my room - to Mama's chambers (and the connected nursery), one would have to cross the landing atop the staircase. This grand mahogany masterpiece took up what was probably a quarter of the vestibule below, and was quite the hazard for any respectable person with young children, of which my Mama had three.

Thanks to the air of reflection that with age one acquires, I now realise that the house, though grand as it may have been, had incredible sound distribution considering it was the twice the size of my Grandpapa's. How my mother would have been able to hear my unwitting calls for her in this specific situation still remains a mystery to me, but as my namesake, I will endeavour to find out.

When I awoke covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat, my Mama was hunched over me, a flannel in hand.
In the dim light, her hair looked beautiful and her nightgown that of a goddess . She was muttering words of comfort to me, words of such that I will never forget, nor get the chance to repeat.

As my sobs slowly turned into mild hiccups, I rediscovered the ability I had been so blessed with - that is, words began to tumble out of my mouth at an alarming rate.
"- and they, they said you - they said that you and the babies - they said you would -"

My stuttered words of fright cut off abruptly as the sound of shattering glass rung throughout the house. My mother must have shot me a worried glance before running out of my room to the landing, where she stopped just as suddenly as she had started, her hand going to her mouth.
Her green eyes were wide and as she took a shaking breath, the fire in my room went out.

"Mama?" My quiet voice was the only sound to be heard as I moved to the door, hoping to get a glance at whatever the problem was. "Mama, what's wrong?"

She didn't answer, and if I had been any older or had more wits about me, I should hope that I would have turned heel at that very moment, never to return.

But I didn't. Instead, I followed the curious trail of thoughts running through my head, and moved further out of my room to look down to the vestibule.

- monsters -

My love, do you remember the feeling of cold horror we talked about as we went though the house?
This vestibule was the heart of it all.
The small window above the doorway, the broken one, would only ever let in the slightest amount of light and as such, the candles on the hall table were almost always lit. 
I pity my mother for having to buy so many candles, but there really was no other way for light to be distributed.
As was the custom for most families of prestige, our maids were the ones to light them in the mornings, but they wouldn't do so until we - the family that is - had eaten a small breakfast in the nursery.

And on this occasion, we hadn't.

- monsters -

All the candles were lit.
Every single one.

But that wasn't what the shattering sound was. No, that sound came from the glass pane covering the family portrait.
The glass pane that was now very shattered and spread around the lit candles.

"Mama," I whined, pulling on her skirt "It's just Daisy."

She slowly looked down at me, an unrecognisable expression on her face. Her eyes glowed in the candle light and flashed dangerously as she took me in. "Daisy isn't coming today."

"Maybe it was Alice, or Georgia?"

"No." Her voice was rough as she spoke, her hand coming down to grip mine. "No, I don't think it was, Curios."

And with those words, I screamed out for all the good in the world, only to hear the heartbreaking sound of my little siblings crying in the nursery.

"Mama!"

"What mother, Curios?" Mama chortled, a hard, humourless sound. "You didn't really think you could escape, did you? We know you're here, Curios. We are coming."

- monsters -

Agnes, my dearest. I am so sorry.
Everything I feel for you, everything we've shared - I promise that they are true and innocent.
But I, my forever, I am not.

And this letter, this last word, it has everything you need to burn and banish me from your mind, for I am a plague that brings naught but sorrows and darkness to those around me.

Please save your beautiful anger until I have fully explained myself, but until I have, think on my apology.
It was not fair of me to become attached, for your life has been, and always will be, a beacon of love and acceptance to me.
And I can only cry out to you with words hot on my tongue as they are burnt into my soul (should I still have one), with the hope that I may still be permitted to bask in your caring warmth.

Forever Yours,

Curiousity

~
"A few weeks later"...
Try a few months later, past me.
I hope this chapter made up for the lack of updates (as my inspiration has been spread thin),
but as far as chapters go, I'd say this is pretty ok.
I'd love to hear any comments you have concerning this story!
Xx

~ MallaHarkness04