Scarlet Letter Anthology

Nyctophilia (Redamancy) - @KiraKiera

Mist clung in silver ribbons of nostalgia to the tall, iron windows, spiraling gently down the delicate glass before losing itself in the endless shadows that swathed the mansion. A gentle, haunting tick of a grandfather clock echoed through the empty halls, interrupted only by the occasional howl of the wind.

It was a lifeless mansion, the Agresta House. It was a mansion of forgotten things and lost things, a mansion of everything that shouldn't and should've been. And all that was ruled by one man.

No one knew if he existed or not. No one knew if he really was a man or not. Was he just an idea, a figment of humanity's imagination? Perchance he was a memory, left behind by the once glorious bloodline who occupied the mansion.

Zayn Agresta was all and none of those things. The slender man was beautifully dark and haunting at the same time. His perfect features unmarred by time remained flawless no matter what wounds he received.

The black-haired male sighed as he swept his bangs out of his face with one gloved hand. He tangled his slender fingers into his hair as he let himself fall into his armchair before a cold fireplace. As if on command, a doll walked up to him with creaky joints and placed a steaming teacup on the table next to him.

Another day spent alone, Zayn mused as he took a deep breath of the tea's fragrant aroma.

His loneliness was getting to him. Everywhere he turned were shadows. Shadows and his doll-servants. At first, when he first arrived in the manor, he tried talking to them. If they could meet his every need without him uttering a single word, didn't that mean they had some consciousness?

But he was wrong. They were nothing but machines. They didn't have free will. They didn't have control over their limbs and minds. They were just puppets.

Like what he was, a puppet stuck in a glorious cage he could never break free of.

Zayn set the finished cup back down onto the table, and the doll quickly scooped it up before hurrying away, its creaky footfalls fading away into the distance. Where it went and where it came from, he didn't know. He never bothered to check.

The male gazed into the fireplace listlessly. I wonder when I'd be able to leave this place. Tomorrow? Next year? Or perhaps never? Even so, if there was even one person I could talk to...

He shook his head and cleared his mind. Nevermind, that was just a foolish thought. What was I thinking?

And then he heard it, a distinctive whirring and clicking of gears. Zayn's blood chilled and shivers raked its icy claws down his spine. He stiffened in fear as the countless mechanisms buried in the walls turned their crimson gaze on him.

In this mansion, Zayn was not its master. The House was his master. And he was being monitored; every move, action, and even thought. If it found any hint of him wanting to break out, it would mercilessly pound blade after blade into his flesh. And he wouldn't even die.

He discovered that fact the hard way.

The black-haired male raised a trembling hand in surrender as he slowly rose to his feet and made his way towards his bedroom. Innumerable red lights were fixated on his lean frame, watching as he closed the large, mahogany door behind him and rested his back against the wood with a relieved sigh. For some reason, his bedroom was the only place those machines could not enter, not even the doll-servants.

I'm going to go insane someday, Zayn laughed humorlessly as he began unbuttoning his clothes to prepare for bed. Always being watched, never being safe...I didn't want to be alone, but this is just too much. He threw his layers onto a chair.