I'm back with a new series. One Shot is a series in which I write about ideas which I have but are not long enough to make into a multi-part series. I thought I would begin with a Halloween themed episode, seeing as the holiday is approaching this week. Hope you enjoy this! (By the way My Fuck Buddy Part 3 will come soon)
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I was warned by countless god-fearing men and women about the Duchess Drucilla. Once I mentioned to the patrons at the Inn at the bottom of the mountainous hill that I was invited to stay at her castle for a week they quickly told me to stay away from her rather impressive property. They had told me she was anything but a welcoming host, and that many who were invited to her home never left. Being a survivor of the second great war I spent little time in telling them that I was able to handle myself in any situation, even if the mad claims that this Duchess was the horrific embodiment of pure evil was indeed true. I sat in my room, brightly lit from the full moon beaming down onto the earth, the castle on the hill silhouetted beautifully in the magnificence of the silver sphere. I sat on the small rickety stool and hunched over a small wooden table, scribbling down notes of my extensive travels across the country to reach this point. My journal was tattered; the old pages from my time in service protecting the world from the true embodiment of evil falling out of the spine of the book. I dropped my pen onto the table, massaging the exhaustion from my eyes as I felt my mind moving away from wanting to write in my journal to the upcoming events of tomorrow.
I lightly flicked the past pages to a letter which was stuffed firmly into its spine. I took the letter and examined it once more, as I did the day which I received it. It looked like an ordinary letter, handwriting slanted and written neatly almost as if it had been perfected over multiple attempts. The letter contained a formal greeting and a short explanation of who this mystery writer was, a rich Duchess who had donated a large sum of her extensive wealth on the British Army and its countless patriotic soldiers who fought in the war. The letter continued to explain to me that she was told by one of her close and, quote "Very Personal" friends of my efforts during the final days of battle. How I was described by many as a war hero. She continued to say that she was enthused to meet a man such as I and invited me to stay at her estate near the coast. She signed off with her unusual name: Drucilla, and ended her note writing her address and a wax insignia of her family's crest; A horned sheep with spread wings a calligraphed D above the peculiar animal.
After reading over the letter once more I came to the conclusion that this woman intrigued me. A young sounding woman who was rich enough to be a large investor in the British government, living in a castle overlooking the coast; who was also friends with someone who was aware of my efforts in the war...My heart beat slightly quicker at the excitement I had in meeting this Duchess. Standing from the stool I quickly placed the letter back into my journal and carefully returned it back to the safety of my travel bag. Taking one last look at the castle shadowed by the moon I smiled to myself before closing the curtain to retire for the evening.
The next morning, I awoke from my dreamless slumber early. Taking time to look my best for the last hours of travel. I fixed my dark hair with a comb, dressing in my clothes from the last few days. I was greeted in the morning by a few of my companions from the night previous. Those who still urged me to go home and stay far away from the castle on the hill. Similarly to the night before I told them multiple times that I was not being swayed by their shallow arguments to stop me from visiting the kind hearted duchess. I however was not arguing against the innkeeper who provided me a small supply of food and water for my last few hours of hill climbing before I reached the castle doors. Bid my new friends farewell before I set out for Duchess Drucilla's castle.
I was happy when I was on the road, after living though near death experiences every day when fighting a war, you learn to appreciate the environment around you and how beautiful the world can be. I paced myself to take in the cool breeze and to hear the cheeping birds nesting in the trees which I walked past. The castle would always be in my view, the hill getting larger and larger as I approached the intimidating climb. I stood at the end of the quiet road to look up at the castle which sat there on the summit. I took a large gulp of my canteen which the Innkeeper provided me as I stepped my first step onto the Duchess' property. Quickly the sky blackened, a light fog seeming to appear from out of nowhere. I looked around behind me, seeing the sun and the clear skies. Pivoting back to the castle I heard nothing but distant caws from crows which sat on a dead, leafless tree. I stepped forward once more, stopping again as I felt a shiver run down my spine. In fact, my whole body seemed to be enveloped in a biting chill, an odd occurrence for a day in August.
I did not let this deter me however. I began to climb the hill, further and further up I went as I began to grow accustom to the chill and the greying skies. Browned grass crunched as I stepped, allowing some immediate noise. I reached into my bag and pulled out a small wrapped loaf of bread which was apart of my small care package from the good people of the inn. I took a bite of the bread and quickly gagged, looking down I noticed the mold which had grown around the crust. Spitting the bread out of my mouth onto the floor, I then quickly put the bread back into my bag and continued my peculiar journey up the hill.
I was unable to tell how much time had passed since I began to climb the hill. My watch had stopped ticking and the sun was now almost invisible it looked like evening had come, but it was impossible that the sun had come and gone. I was tired and sweating from the arduous walk, and was close to thanking god when the hill finally leveled out and the castle was but a few yards away from me. I sighed to myself as I approached the huge castle. From the outside it looked larger than any castle which I had come across, pointed steeples and towers connecting to the rectangular base of the castle. There were a number of lights which were illuminating the many windows spotted across the castle. It was unlike anything I had ever seen in my young life. As I approached the enormous double dark oak wood doors I began to fix myself to be presentable, combing my fingers through my hair and lightly brushing my beard with my nails. I reached out and placed my hand on the door, the cold as ice surface making me recoil back slightly. I extended out my hand once more, this time to a round cast iron knocker. Grasping it with my hand I pounded the door hard and awaited someone to open.
It was only a few moments until the doors slowly opened to reveal the figure of an older gentleman with long silver hair combed back behind his ears. He had a long, unkept beard of the same shade. His wrinkly face was once quite handsome, but age and other elements seemed to make him more grizzled and tired than strapping. He wore the clothes of a butler, a gloved hand resting on his side whilst the other was outstretched on the door. He spoke softly and monotone, the deadly silence making it simple to hear what he was saying.
"Ahh, you finally grace us with your presence young master. The Duchess has been awaiting you all morning!" He shuffled back and greeted me inside as I slowly stepped into the castle. Suddenly the cold had faded. A warm glow overcoming me; my fatigue fading as quickly as the cold. I looked back to see the old man close the doors with a loud creek, the metal clanging shut as the doors closed. He turned toward me and shuffled past speaking louder as I stood there taking in the breath-taking architecture of the stone walls and animals which where carved into the walls.
"My lady awaits you in the great hall. My lady has given me instructions to take your belongings to the guest quarters." Outstretching his gloved hand, he looked at me with his steel grey eyes and then to my travel bag. I gladly gave it to the butler, letting him complete his honest task which his employer had set him. He sandwiched my light bag between his arm and body as we walked down the long, impressive corridor. As we walked, I looked at the butler; noticing an odd addition to his attire. Instead of a tie which most butlers wore, this one had a thick red cloth wrapped over his neck. I felt it rude to ask why he wore this; I was just a guest in this impressive estate and did not want to get off on the wrong foot. After a few more moments of following him, he stopped. We had reached the end of the corridor which split into two different walkways, both lit brightly with candles hanging from the walls.
"You must follow that way sir; the great hall and my lady await you..." I looked to the right, the direction the butler told me to walk. I started toward that direction before looking back to my guide. He was gone. I quietly muttered to myself as I looked around, wondering where on earth this butler had disappeared to. The extraordinary happenings of the day had begun to play on my mind once I began to follow the walkway, from the sudden weather changed to the disappearing butler. I had started to think perhaps the folk at the inn had been correct about this place. On the walls of the corridor, large painted portraits hung proudly to my left and right. They were all striking paintings, not unlike portraits you see of medieval kings and queens. One which caught my eye was one of a tall, built man with striking features. His skin white as a sheet, eyes glowing a deep red. His chin and cheekbones sharp and pointed. His expression prideful, and looked as if he was dressed to meet the king of England. The portrait next to him was a woman, with the same sharp features and wearing clothes as elegant as the previous portrait. I began to think these where the parents or other possible relatives of the Duchess Drucilla, why else would they be immortalised in paint and hung on the walls of the castle.
