4 The Room

I went through the drawers but found nothing, where could a person my age get something to do around here? My parents told me I should just stay here and play with the others in the morning, but I was still energetic. The wind whistled and the lavender candle whisked around with it. The only thing I've found interesting is this ebony painting with all of the life sucked out of it. Bejewelled with what seemed to be fire opal in the gold-covered frame, the contrast between such bright colours with an achromatic colour was truly interesting. It was one of my Father's creations no doubt. Speaking of interesting creations, this whole house was just as thought-provoking as this painting. Exploring its artistic colours and shapes would be incredible. Opening the door with a creak, I looked down the hallway.

"Viola?" Our family maid, Mary, stood right in front of me. "Shouldn't you be in your room?" Her blue eyes looked at me questioningly.

"Uh ... I was ... um ... trying to find a bathroom."

"Okay sweetie, make sure to go back to bed though per your Father's orders," Mary gestured towards the bathroom. "It's right over there, don't dawdle!"

"Ok, thanks, Mary." I closed the bathroom door. The bath and shower were together, shaping an oak L engraved with a handheld vanity mirror with an older man holding it. Waiting for 5 minutes, I peeked through the door again. What met me were large brown eyes. I stifled a banshee scream not wanting to ruin the night for everyone. It was probably just a servant cleaning the bathroom. Opening the door fully, a red-haired girl my age was on the floor looking as scared as I just was.

"Hello..?" The girl composed herself, ruffling her dress and standing up.

"Hi, who are you?"

"I was just about to ask you the same question. My name is Viola."

"Cordellia." We both looked at each other, more embarrassed than anything by what just happened. An awkward minute of silence ensued.

"So, are you one of the servants here?" I looked at Cordellia's weeded ginger hair and green dress that wasn't even fitted to her frame. All colour flushed out of her face.

"I am not a servant!" She shouted, straightening her posture. "What position do you fill, are you the laundry maid?" I ignored her comment and sighed.

"No, I'm not the laundry maid. I am the daughter of Henry and therefore a guest. Who are you with?"

"Algathon," Cordellia said, slowly ambling away. "I'm going to go and explore this place, you can come if you want."

"Wait, aren't we supposed to stay in our rooms?" Cordellia continued to walk. "Wait up!" I ran after her. Thunder rumbled while the old wooden floor creaked below our feet. "So where exactly are we—?"

"Quiet, someone's coming." She whispered, pointing towards an approaching shadow. We ducked into the nearest room and listened, footsteps slowly approaching. My heart jumped like a bunny in my chest as the sounds receded. Cordellia breathed a sigh of relief. "Seems like whoever it was is gone. Now, ready to explore?" Cordellia crept towards a Paraffin lamp, illuminated by the moonlight, and turned it on. A spotless guest bed and dresser appeared. Atop the bed was a hand-held vanity mirror.

"Strange that would be on the bed," I thought. "Well Cordellia I don't think there's too much here to explore, shall we check out the other rooms?"

"Hold on a second." Pointing up to the ceiling, a small trap door could be seen. Scoping the room she discovered a broom and brought the door down, revealing a ladder. Cordellia curtsied "Thank you, thank you." I rolled my eyes as she disappeared up into the attic. "Come on slowpoke!"

"I'm coming." I climbed up and took in my surroundings. It seemed like a regular old storage area. Searching through the contents, all I found were toys coated in a thick layer of dust.

"Hey Viola, come check this out!" Finding nothing of interest here, I followed her voice to the next room. Cordellia popped out with a clown doll. My adrenaline ran sky-high as Cordellia hyena-laughed and put the doll down.

I glared at her. "What was that for?"

"Did I do something wrong?" Cordellia snickered again, pointing around the room. "Look at how many clowns there are." Clowns of all shapes and sizes were scattered around the room. The doll Cordellia was holding had erratic orange curls and a frown. At the center of the room stood a life-size model. His eyes seemed to lust for blood and his twisted smile wanted a victim to chow down on. His wig protruded into a purple sphere complementing his baggy polka dot overalls. Holding a pinwheel, I wanted to leave immediately.

"Hey, can we go now?"

"Why? We haven't even meddled with the main man." Cordellia walked up to the clown which towered over her. "Hey little buddy," she stood on her tippy toes touching his nose, "Anybody home?"

"Cordellia we should really get out of here."

"Pfft ... fine." We turned around, about to leave the room but l heard a distinct creak. Looking back at the clown, nothing was out of the ordinary except the pinwheel was slowly spinning.

"Cordellia, how is that spinning?"

"It's probably just a draft," and she started to walk out of the room, "This room is a bore, let's get out of here." Agreeing with her, we left the room, ensuring to shut the trap door behind us.