The Soul Tracer

The Real World

They say that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That you see every good and bad thing that's every happened to you. You suddenly see lost memories, as if they were yesterday. Time slows down, you notice everything around you, every small detail, just for that split second. Then your mind goes into overdrive, trying to figure a way out of the cold, skeletal, fingers of death. The screams of the people around you sound distant, but your breathing sounds louder then ever. Then finally you realise there's no hope, you give up. Closing your eyes and taking one last breath. It seems as though your love ones are there, and yet your all alone. The fingers of death, wrap themselves around you and take you into a world of darkness.

The ringing in my ears, from the bombs, changes ever so slowly into the delicate sound of birds. A cool autumn wind blows through the trees, carrying the sweet smell of flowers.
I move my fingers around in to cold, wet grass. Digging my fingers into the soft soil. I open my eyes, the sun burns brightly through the trees. I force myself into a sitting position. A stinging sensation arises in my right leg. I look over it assessing the damage. There's a huge tear down the right side of my dress, and multiple deep scratches in my leg. My leg is covered in dark, dry, blood that has soaked into my once beautiful dress. My hands are covered in layers of dirt. Blood rolls down my arm from many unseen cuts.

"Papa." I whisper, forcing myself up from the ground.

I have to tell Mama. I have to tell her what I saw. I have to apologise, tell her I love her.

I stumble back to the manor. Pushing the large front doors open, before the doorman have a chance. Ivy turns out of the red drawing room.

"Ada!" She rushes towards me, her face full of shock, "what in the lords name happened to you?"

"I must see Mama, Ivy, I must."

"You can't see Mama, not looking like that." She analyses my whole body. "Ada your covered in blood. Your forehead.."

I place a finger on my forehead, a sharp, stinging, pain spreads through my forehead. I wince and look at my finger. It's covered in, bright red blood.

"Ouch."

Ivy takes my arm and leads my up the stairs and into my bathroom. She pulls the lever calling Clara.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" She asks, her face a mask of anxiety.

"You wouldn't believe the truth." I mumble staring at the black and white tiled floor.

Clara enters through the small, wooden, white door.

"Yes my lad.. What ever happened to you?" Her eyes wide in astonishment.

I sigh, and sit down on the velvet blue couch, under the large window.

"Clara, would please fill the bath, and get Lady Ada cleaned up." Ivy says in a gentle voice.

"Of course my lady." She curtsies the starts filling the large white bath tube. Ivy leaves the room closing the door gently behind her.

As the bath fills, Clara helps me out of my blood soaked dress. She then helps me into the bath and cleans up my wounds. She pulls her fingers through my hair, untangling it from the dry blood and dirt. It takes hours to clean myself fully.

Clara hands me a soft white towel, from the pile of crisply folded towels. I wrap it around myself as Clara dries the tangle that is my hair, then runs a brush through it. I walk through into my bedchamber and dress in my clean white undergarments. I make my way to the marble dress in the corner. Clara follows behind.

"Clara, how is Mama?"

Clara starts running her fingers through my hair.

"She's much better my lady. The weeks with Doctor Brandson have done her well."

"That's fantastic news."

Clara molds my hair into an amazing bun, that resembles a flower, long pieces of hair are plaited, then threaded through the flower.
Clara leaves the room, then renters holding dress.

"Her ladyship requested you wear this dress, my lady."

The body and skirt is made of the finest apricot silk, the body is then covered in an intricate flower design of beads and pearls. Loose sleeves, made of pin stitched lace, hang over my pale, scratched, skin. Small sequins, embedded in amongst the lace, make the sleeves sparkle. The sparkly lace covers just my shoulders, not my collarbone or neckline, then make its way down the back of the gown, joining with the lace under layer.

Clara helps me into the dress, doing up the many buttons on my back. She then leaves the room without a word. She returns a few minutes later with a royal blue, velvet box. She places it on the dressing table, and opens it delicately. Inside sits a vine-like tiara. A ribbon of gold, winds its way through the shining silver leaves, which reach only a couple centimeters off my hair.

"It's beautiful!" I trace my fingers gentle along the gold ribbon. Clara stands patiently behind me, hands behind her back. I turn to face her, a smile creeping on my face.

"There." Clara places the tiara securely on my head, "Her ladyship is waiting downstairs, "Shall I escort you?"

"Would you?"

She smiles, allowing myself to place my hand in hers. She leads me through the endless maze of corridors and down the grand staircase. Mama is waiting in the saloon.

"Thank you Clara. That'll be all."

She steps back and curtsies, then walks off.

"Good evening Adaline." Just recently Mama has decided it was necessary to call me by my birth name. Personally I would rather she not.

"Evening Mama."

"There is someone I feel you should meet." She gestures towards the large doors at the end of the room. The setting sun beaming through the stain glass windows above the doorframe, lighting the room in a sea of colours, that are almost magical.