Day 9

[ginny_t]

edg's list:

1. A heart-shaped locket, containing a photographic negative depicting a fictional character
2. The chair in which Edgar Allan Poe sat while he wrote Ligeia
3. A human skull, gold-plated, with aquamarines set in the eye sockets

Hopefully it's not too obvious where the Clié battery died and there was a 2-hour interruption...

I woke up slowly, relaxed, warm, wrapped in soft sheets. After a few moments, though, I became too warm and threw off the sheets. They felt heavier than usual, and the sound of the comforter was different than I was used to.

After a few more moments, i was awake enough to start the day. I moved to get out of bed, but found that I was still in a tangle of sheets. What? I thought.

I looked down. I wasn't caught in a tangle of sheets, but wearing the most voluminous nightgown I had ever seen. It was yards and yards of soft cream coloured fabric, linen, I guess it was. There was a ruffle of lace at each wrist, and when I checked, also at my throat.

"Oh, it's a dream," I said softly, testing my voice in the silent room. It was unusually vivid for a dream, even given some of the very strange ones I've had lately.

I looked around. What was going on? The room I was in was not my own, instead it was much larger. A dressing table stood in one corner, with a small stool in front of it. Beside it was a large wardrobe, massive in size, but carved with delicate patterns - curves, whorls and flowers. Near the dressing table was a chaise and chair, with a small low table in between them. A window would let in the morning sun, but right now it was moonlight coming in through the parted curtains.

On the other side of the window was a desk. It was a delight of a desk, rich dark wood, gleaming even to my night vision. There were cubbyholes and nooks at the front of the desk, rows of little drawers, and above were rows of shelves full of leather-bound books.

Between the desk and the bed was a fireplace, with a comfortable looking wing chair in front of it. Even with all this furniture, the room didn't seem crowded.

Struggling with the folds of my nightgown, I slid from the bed, and walked to the door of the room. I tried the knob, half expecting it to be locked, but it turned easily.

As I stepped into the hallway, a cool draft ran down it. "You'll be cold like that," said a deep male voice

I turned, startled. He held a lamp, which brought tears to my eyes, adjusted as they were to moonlight. Through the blur, I couldn't get a good look at him.

"There was a robe on the end of the bed," he said.

I turned back to the room, feeling rather like a child who's been sent back inside for a coat on a chilly September day. The robe was right where he said it would be, more yards of fabric, this time deep rose velvet. I pulled it on, adjusting to the weight. I was immediately glad of the warmth, although I hadn't realised that I was cold.

I returned to the hallway, half expecting him to be gone, but there he stood still.

"Which way?" I asked. The hallway extended in both directions. My eyes had readjusted to the light of the lamp he held, so my view of the hallway ended within a few feet of where we stood.

He didn't answer, merely indicated for me to choose. I decided to go left, past him, to see what was beyond.

"Is there something I'm looking for?" I asked. Although this was a dream, I felt adrift, aimless in a way that I don't normally feel in dreams.

Again he didn't answer. I sighed. It was going to be like that, then, was it? Stupid subconscious! I would kick it, if I could, but I can't, and frankly, it kicked me so often that I'd grown a healthy respect (bordering on fear) of it.

We walked in silence only a few yards, he trailed after me, considerately holding the lamp at a height so that it fell over my shoulder, lighting the way ahead.

I judged the distance to be about the length of the large room in which I had awoken. The hallway ended in a pair of imposing doors. I reached for the handle, but it wouldn't budge. I looked to my companion inquiringly.

He made a gesture, like a sleight of hand, and held out a large dull key. It was heavy in my hand. He stood to one side so that I could see to slide the key into the lock. It turned easily, and the door opened when I tried it again.

The room beyond the doors was large, larger than the first room, but this was was very cluttered. In my heavy robe, I had to turn sideways to move between a chair and a bookshelf that stood just beyond the radius of the door's clearance. There was a moment of panic as the light was blocked by the heavy furniture, but then many lamps were lit, almost as one, and I could see again.

The room was as cluttered as it had appeared in the first dim lamplight. With more lights, I could see that not only was it filled with heavy furniture, strewn haphazardly around the room, but on that furniture, almost every horizontal surface was cluttered with knick-knacks, bric-a-brac, tchatchkas, just general stuff.

Oddly enough, though, there was no dust in the room. No cobwebs cluttered the corners of the ceiling. I suspected that the room would have passed a white glove test. I wandered through, trailing my hand across various surfaces - gleaming silk-smooth wood, worn tapestry upholstery, wrought iron rough with rust, cool pebbled glass. I let me feet and hands wander where they would.

I found myself on the far side of the room, hidden behind a tall armoire, with a secretary desk beside, forming a sort of wall. Only a little lamplight reached here, but I saw the gleam of something dangling from a chain draped over an old-fashioned desk lamp.

I carefully disentangled it from the finial on top of the shade and shifted so that I could examine it in the dim light. It was a small heart-shaped locket, with a leaf pattern engraved onto it. I felt carefully for the notch to open the locket. I slid my nail into it, and it opened with a sharp click.

As I opened it, light spilled into the little corner. I looked up, surprised. But it my silent companion, he and the lamp had found me again.

I looked down at the locket. It was the strangest thing. Where the picture should have been, instead there was a photographic negative. I carefully took it out, and held it to the light, to get a better view of the person caught on the negative. It was a young girl, about 13 or 14. It was hard to see, but she looked very happy, with flowing curls surrounding her face. A face dominated by eyes that appeared to be laughing, sparkling.

"Do you know who this is?" I asked.

He nodded. "Her name was Delight, but she is no more."

"She died?"

He shook his head, but didn't explain.

I sighed and replaced the locket on the lamp. The desk itself was surprising. It was cluttered, but not as cluttered as the other surfaces of the room. The clutter was more like that of a desk at which someone worked for many hours a day. There was a candle holder, its base thick with many colours of wax. There were several pens, all dip-style, and inkwells to go with. Most of the inkwells were unstoppered, their contents must have dried up long ago. There was one thought, that was properly closed. I lifted it, held the cut glass to the lamp's flame to see the colour. It was deep dark red, like rubies. Or drying blood. I put the container down, careful to put it in the same place, but with a shiver.

This dream was getting disturbing. I was ready for it to end.

I noticed in the centre of the desk was a small sheaf of papers. I rifled through them carefully. The first couple of pages had more crossed out than not, but a few pages down, the text flowed. I tried to read it in the dim light, but the handwriting was old-fashioned, cramped and spidery, all I managed to make out was the name "Ligeia". As I put the pages back, my sleeve caught the back of the chair that stood at the desk. The chair rocked on two legs dangerously. I reached out desperately, trying to steady it. In the dark, my vision was funny, and I missed. The chair balance precariously, and then dropped back to all four legs with a thump that was loud in the room.

I looked around, embarrassed. I felt like I'd just dropped a stack of books in a hushed library. But no one was staring at me angrily, there were no hissing "shh" noises. Just the strange man, whose face I still couldn't make out, standing impassively, patiently, at the edge of the desk.

"What is this place?" I asked.

He didn't answer, but in the dim light, his eyes looked disappointed, as if I should know the answer.

"Where are we?" I demanded more forcefully.

"Not in Kansas anymore."

"Well, I don't expect to be in Kansas, since I went to sleep in Toronto," I said flippantly.

He scowled, the disappointment deepening on his face. "You're asking the wrong questions."

"Well what are the right questions?" I asked, exasperated.

He shook his head.

I turned back to the desk, frustrated. I noticed that my sleeve had disturbed more than the chair. It had been covered by a heavy cloth, but a new object was visible on the desk. It gleamed dully in the light. I took the lamp and moved it closer.

It was in the shape of a human skull, but appeared to be made of gold. It couldn't be pure gold, because it appeared to be tarnishing. I looked at it closer and recoiled. I realised that it was indeed a human skull, covered in gold, but wearing away in a couple of places.

Who would cover a human skull in gold? I wondered. I shifted the cloth, exposing the skull completely. Where the eye-sockets were, two aquamarines gleamed. Curiouser & curiouser. I leaned in closer, morbidly curious about how they had been set in the bone. I couldn't tell, even with the lamplight close to the skull. I was loathe to touch it, much less pick it up for a closer examination. But it looked like the bone itself held them, as if they had been cut expressly for this setting. One stone glittered & flashed the flame's light. The other, the one farther from the flame wasn't reflecting the light in the same way.

I gritted my teeth, and reached out to turn the skull slightly. I was careful to touch it only with the tips of my fingers. As it turned, I gasped, shocked. A deep crack ran through the stone, smaller fractures fissured out from the large crack. The bone around the gem was undamaged. Whatever had happened, it had either happened before the stone was set, or some force inside the stone had cracked it.

My sense of unease, which had been growing since I first saw the locket, was now reaching a low-level panic. I turned to the man, who had stood patiently, watching me examine the contents of the desk. "This isn't a dream, is it?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Will you tell me where I am?"

Again, he shook his head.

"Am I here for a reason?"

He nodded.

"Is that reason to do something, or to learn something?"

The expression on his face might have changed, might have shown the opposite of the mild disappointment I thought I'd seen earlier.

"Maybe both."

"Are the contents of this desk a clue?"

"The room is full of clues, it is what you choose that matters."

I looked at the desk. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what these mean."

He nodded acceptance. "Then the time has not arrived. When it comes, you will know."

"What do I do until then?"

"You wake up."

Comments

[edg.livejournal.com]

Ee. Very nice. :)