I was born in 1806 and died at nineteen. I've spent the last 103 years in maddening solitude, only making noise when talking to myself or absent-mindedly humming.
I have explored the castle endless times, immersed in my own thoughts and unable to step outside this rotting, ancient structure.
Sometimes humans would come to explore the crumbling ruins, and then leave some time afterwards. I've always loved watching them from afar, envying their smiles, their laughter, the flush in their skin and the unlimited freedom they possessed.
One day I was gazing out a shattered window pane, marvelling at the vibrant blue sky above, when a sleek black car parked along the mossy gravel path.
A young girl with long flowing hair the colour of honey stepped out and gaped openly at the massive castle before her.
Curiosity gleamed in her emerald eyes as she removed several bags from the trunk.
A stern-looking woman with inky black hair got out and said something to the girl, then they both climbed the uneven stone steps.
A few seconds later, two identical cars rolled up and several burly men unloaded six more duffel bags. A small gold crest was embroidered on each of the bags.
How long were they going to be staying?! I wondered, It looked like they had enough baggage for months!
I scurried down the winding staircases and extensive hallways silently, crouching behind an eroding marble pillar to peer over the railing at the newcomers.
The golden-haired girl looked about eighteen, the same age I look.
She held a large metal box to her eye, and a white flash of light emitted from it, making me flinch in surprise.
"Evelyn put the camera away! Stop dawdling and help them!"
Creeping further down the main staircase to get a better view, I watched as the group of large men struggled to set up several large tents.
It was actually quite entertaining, and I found myself smiling, my pale face straining with the unused facial expression. There wasn't a lot to smile about in an empty, decaying castle.
Suddenly a hand was placed on my shoulder from behind, and I let out a quiet squeak.
The golden-haired girl stood in front of me, eyeing me up-and-down with interest.
"Who are you?" she asked in a gentle voice.
My instincts ached to run and hide, but they were overpowered by the longing to be touched or acknowledged by someone other than myself. I simply shook my head.
No one.
I looked back down the stairs warily, wondering if she would expose me to the others.
As if sensing my unease, she took hold of my hand and led me up the stairs into one of the rooms.
"Do you... uh-" she cleared her throat, "live... here?"
"Yes," I mumbled, nervously shifting from foot to foot.
I certainly didn't look normal, with my deathly pale skin, matted chestnut hair, and tattered old clothes.
The girl smiled, holding out a delicate hand to me slowly as if taming a spooked animal.
"I'm Evelyn Darlington. The crabby lady you might've seen down there is my chaperone, Lady Christine, and those guys are here to help me with my research."
Darlington, where have I heard that before?
I lightly shook her hand, relishing in the unfamiliar warmth.
"Florence Blackwood."
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~Leah
YOU ARE READING
The Girl I Once Was
Short StoryFlorence Blackwood was human once. She had a family, friends and a place to call home. But a long, long time ago that joy was ripped from her unsuspecting grip. Now she roams her death-place in despair, longing to reclaim what was once hers. Then o...
