Rain [Short Stories]

Monster

            Honey always wondered about her mysterious new husband. The prospect of an arranged marriage certainly had worried her before. After all, a month earlier she hadn't even heard of an Alastair Moon living in Fraelle at all and suddenly her parents had requested that she marry him. "For the greater good' they said it was for but she had her doubts and besides...he was devilishly handsome and this might not be so bad. Even now after a little less than a month of living in his castle in Hell she didn't know much about him. He came and went, sat far from her at dinner and they didn't even sleep in the same room. In all truthfulness, she felt more alone than she had at her home with her parents, where she thought that it couldn't possibly get any worse. And yet it did.

          She spent her days in her chambers reading by her personal fireplace, unwillingly letting the servants bring her things like sparkling water and snacks of Cook's famous lemon bars and mint chocolate fudge. She was tired of this life already. She didn't want to be dressed in fine silks and poofy dinner dresses, and have her hair brushed for her. Honey wanted to live in a cottage in the Pygmy Plains near Echigo and have a small garden and a library to keep all the books she had left behind at home.

          From her armchair she looked down at Hamlet, her cat, rub his back against the leg of the chair and sighed to herself. Dinner that evening had been awful. Her attempt at small talk crashed and burned. She asked Alastair if he had an actual interest in her, her furor adding a heaviness to the dining room that very obviously didn't belong. Those green, sad eyes from across the table just slid away from her and a small audible sigh puffed from his always downturned lips. She couldn't get the sadness of his voice out of her head. That, "Excuse me, please, Caeliea...Enjoy your dinner." and the way he didn't dare make eye contact with her as he stood and left. It was all she could think about even with one of her favourite novels balanced across her blanketed lap. She hated that he dodged her question, hated that he always looked so sad and pitiful. She hated this castle and she hated him too. That was it. She slapped her book shut without caring to slide a bookmark in place before standing and moving towards her wardrobe. It was cold out tonight and she didn't need to catch her death of it.

          She strode over to her wardrobe, freezing mid-step as she heard something in the hall. She couldn't quite hear it through the wall, quietly padding closer to press her ear to the door. Her heart was racing for some reason, her soft chestnut brown hands shaking as she rested them against the wood. There was shuffling, footsteps that sounded slow and painful, and then the tired creak of a door slowly opening and clicking shut.

          She sucked in a breath she didn't realize she desperately needed until then. She didn't even debate putting shoes on. Slowly she rested her hand on the doorknob, wincing at the soft click turning it made and let the door swing silently open. Two steps, and she was in the hall pulling the door closed with another click that sounded like a drum line going through their routines in the hall.

          She was terrified, the pearl streaks of white zigzagging across the deep obsidian and lava rock floors only making it worse. Her amber eyes were stuck on the door, unable to catch her breath as if the door kept drawing it out of her. Then, slowly, her eyes trailed down to the floor where a slick mess of blood and dark feathers rested in a trail all the way down the hall. Footprints...made with blood. Her breath caught as her hands sunk into the fabric of her pajamas, her feet inching forward to get a better look.

          She reeled as she realized the footprints weren't even human. They were...bird prints, but bigger and small down feathers were sticking swimming in them. Her first thought was that something hurt Alastair and it was in his room now; an enemy of the kingdom offed him and was looking for his crown, his personal papers, she had no clue what they wanted as she rose to her feet. Once again, her eyes were drawn to the wood, then the handle and she found her hand reaching for it. What was she doing? Shouldn't she be getting the guards? The captain of the army? Cooky even? These thoughts did nothing to deter her from grabbing the door knob.