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mmwm · 6 years ago

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Welcome to day 20 of 28 Days of Have Heaven, a short month of posts about heaven, paradise, perfection and desire, perfect places, art, theology, gardens, and more, using the Enya song “China Roses” as a jumping off point. Each post will look at these elements in itself, which may not obviously connect with the others, and which may only peripherally be related. I won’t attempt to tie the posts together. They’ll all be listed here, as they are posted ________________________________________________________________

This post is doubling as my Wednesday Vignette post (though it will be much much more texty and imagey than a vignette), and I am taking as my subject Anna’s subject at Flutter & Hum, the host of WV: Anticipation, and not just anticipation but anticipation of the upcoming flower & garden show in my area (hers is this week in Seattle).

There is something indeed heavenly about the Boston Flower & Garden Show, this year from 13-17 March, in the middle of our snowy and cold New England winter. Sure, “Spring” is only a few days afterward, but since it’s chilly, muddy, snowy, and gusty through much of April and can even snow in May here in central New Hampshire, it’s literally cold comfort to celebrate Spring on 20 March (5:58 p.m. ET to be exact) … though the quality of light is already changing, a foretaste of warmer, brighter, longer days to come.

This will be a bit tongue in cheek, because I don’t think of heaven as a proper place (more of a heterotopia, if I had to locate it), but as I anticipate attending the heavenly heterotopia of the Boston Flower & Garden show in a few weeks (Theme: The Beauty of Balance), let’s consider gardens in general and the flower show (which I’ve enjoyed for the past eight years) in particular in terms of (mostly Biblical) descriptions of heaven.

“In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also” (John 14:2-3).

The Quran also speaks of mansiony elements — raised couches, cups, cushions, carpets — which are very well represented each year at the flower show:

“With their effort [they are] satisfied. In an elevated garden, wherein they will hear no unsuitable speech. Within it is a flowing spring. Within it are couches raised high and cups put in place and cushions lined up and carpets spread around.” (Q. 88:8-16)

In (permaculture) gardens, there are many garden beds and borders, which we prepare and nurture for plants, pollinators, fungi, soil critters, birds, reptiles and amphibians, et al., as well as other separate spaces like patios, decks, allées, sheds, croquet lawns, composting areas, greenhouses, barns, orchards, food forests, fruit guilds, annual vegetable gardens, herb spirals, water gardens and aquaculture, and so on. Whether compact or spacious, small or large, garden spaces serve as inviting homes for many resident and visiting species — very mansiony!

greenhouse and gardens at Steve Whitman’s, Plymouth NH, Sept. 2014

At the flower show are also, prepared for us, numerous abodes — patios, pools, treehouses, yoga spaces, cabins, sheds, outdoor kitchens, chickens coops, tiny houses, and gardens for all species, as well as cushions, chairs, and couches:

patio with chair and waterfall, 2013

lovely (and open to interpretation) rug, mossy sofa, Kirsten Van Dijk, 2015

Pine Harbor post-and-beam shed, 2015

yoga platform, 2011

house with entryway garden, 2012

patio including couches, 2013

patio with chairs, glasses, Magma Design Group, 2015

shed, Heimlich Nurseries, 2016

stone house with roof of evergreen, Maine Stonework, 2017

kitchen and bathroom in Jamaica Cottage tiny house, 2017

chairs, fire pit, patio, Oakwood Landscaping, 2017 (photo by spouse)

outdoor kitchen with grill, fridge, Oakwood Landscape, 2017

shed living, flower roof, topiary, Miskovsky-Haskell, 2018

little house, and patio, Oakwood Landscaping, 2018

teepee, Samantha’s Garden, 2018

couch and cushions inside teepee

And this, I mean, this is heaven!

2014

There are also mansions for insects and chickens:

Yard Birds chicken enclosure, Urban Homestead Pavilion, 2016

Smart Bee hive, Urban Homestead Pavilion, 2016

mason and other bee housing, 2017

And even a bocce ball court and Zen garden in this paradise:

bocce ball court and balls, 2013

zen garden, Joseph Gray Stonework-Pleasant View Gardens, 2018

“They shall neither hunger anymore nor thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any heat; for the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to living fountains of waters. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (Revelation 7:16-17).

Nothwithstanding that a little heat would be lovely right about now here, lots of garden structures — including pergolas, some lattices, canopies, gazebos, awnings — work to minimize summer sunlight.

pergola full of bees, Wave Hill, Riverdale, May NY, 2015

And from the Boston flower show in years past:

elaborate outdoor room with fabric canopy and drapes, floor covering, elegant furniture (and lots of Canary Island broom plants), Interiors by M.S. (Maria Sadeck), March 2014

pergola and fire pit, Oakwood Landscape, March 2017

The Bible mentions living fountains of waters and the heaven of the Quran is full of rivers, as well as “gardens of pleasure” (sometimes translated as “gardens of bliss”) and “gardens of perpetual residence” (also translated as “Gardens of Eden”):

“Beneath them rivers will flow in the Gardens of Pleasure. Their call therein will be, ‘Exalted are You, O Allah,’ and their greeting therein will be, ‘Peace.’” (Q. 10:9-10) and “Those will have gardens of perpetual residence; beneath them rivers will flow.” (Q. 18:31)

Most gardens, private and botanical, have some kind of water feature, whether a bird bath; sandy, stony butterfly and dragonfly pool; fountain or waterfall; pond for ducks, fish, aquaculture, swimming, paddling around, or simply visual pleasure; creek or stream; reflecting pool; water garden; or wet-have-you.

Below, clockwise from upper left, from The Fells, Newbury, NH; Ginter Botanical Gardens, Richmond, VA; Tarbin Gardens, Franklin, NH; Bedrock Gardens, Lee, NH; children’s garden, Longwood Gardens, Kennett Square, PA; Italian Water Gardens, Longwood; our garden, Waterboro, ME; tadpoles at Bedrock Gardens; and Heritage Museums & Gardens, Sandwich, MA.

And of course the Boston flower show is water-filled, just like heaven:

stepping stones, 2011

pool, Liquid Landscapes, I think, 2012

stone waterfall, 2012

EDEN by the Charles bridge and pool with koi, 2014

water wheel, Joseph Gray, 2015

goldfish in vertical aquarium, Rutland Nurseries, 2015

amusing spitting water sculpture, Joseph Gray Stonework, 2017

“The foundations of the wall of the city were adorned with all kinds of precious stones: the first foundation was jasper, the second sapphire, the third chalcedony, the fourth emerald, the fifth sardonyx, the sixth sardius, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh jacinth, and the twelfth amethyst” (Revelation 21:19-20).

Gardens may not typically be full of precious gemstones and jewels but the flowers, fruits, berries, and foliage therein are certainly jewel-toned and gem-coloured.

For the record, jasper is often red, due to iron content, though there is a rare greenish form; sapphire is usually a saturated blue; chalcedony usually has a soft blue or greyish white translucence; emeralds are a deep green; sardonyx is a flat-banded white, brown, and red stone; sardius (aka carnelian) is a brownish-blood red; chrysolite (aka peridot) could refer to either a yellowish-green sapphire or an olive-green tourmaline; beryl comes in many colours, and both emerald and aquamarine are beryls; topaz is yellowish brown in nature but can also be deep golden-orange, yellow, pink, red, and blue; chrysoprase is a translucent, bright apple or grassy green variety of chalcedony; jacinth (or hyacinth) is a blue stone; and amethyst (in Hebrew ahlamah, literally “dream stone”) is a violet-purple. (There is some question about the colour of a few of these in Biblical times; more info here.)

From Boston flower shows past:

“The twelve gates were twelve pearls: each individual gate was of one pearl. And the street of the city was pure gold, like transparent glass” (Revelation 21:21).

shimmery pearlyish masterwort (Astrantia major), in my garden, July 2017

Not a pearly gate but a beautiful ironwork one outside a garden in Charleston, SC:

The Boston flower show has gates!

lavender outside wall and gates, 2012

Newport Flower Show display, 2016

Chinese gate/garden, 2013

No gold or clear pathways that I have noticed, in any gardens or at the flower show, but still, lovely walkways abound (clockwise: Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens; Heritage Gardens, Sandwich, MA; Longwood Gardens, Kennett Square, PA; Ginter Botanical Gardens, Richmond, VA; The Mount, Lenox, MA; and Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens):

At the Boston flower show, this Rutland Nurseries patio material, pearly shells, struck my fancy; I’d really prefer a shell, stone, or sand walkway to gold, even clear gold:

“In the middle of its street, and on either side of the river, was the tree of life, which bore twelve fruits, each tree yielding its fruit every month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations” (Revelation 22:2).

So, apparently there’s a tree that bears 40 different stone fruits, but one tree bearing twelve kinds is pretty cool, heaven.

The heaven of the Quran offers fruits too, and a non-intoxicating drink:

“Those will have a provision determined — fruits; and they will be honored in gardens of pleasure on thrones facing one another. There will be circulated among them a cup from a flowing spring, white and delicious to the drinkers; no bad effect is there in it, nor from it will they be intoxicated” (Q. 37:40-47)

Fruit tree guilds are a thing in permaculture gardening — my two peaches have been over-bearing, in the best way, the past couple of years:

Other friends, depending on where they live, grow lemons, limes, oranges, kiwis, lots of berries, pears, plums, apples, grapes. Public gardens grow fruits, too, all kinds, in greenhouses and conservatories, and outside as well; here is a smattering from Longwood Gardens (nectarines, figs, grapefruit), Bedrock Gardens, Lee, NH (Asian pears, espaliered apples), and Distant Hill Garden, Walpole, NH (red seckel pears):

The Boston flower show has skimped a bit on fruiting trees, though it usually showcases ornamental plums and similar and offers a fair number of veggie garden and herbal options. Below are a container garden with an orange, an espaliered apple, a semi-edible garden with a fig, and some cranberries that were part of an Ocean Spray display — a bit paltry:

The show could definitely improve in terms of heavenliness, Garden of Edenness, with more edible gardens and fruits. Maybe some nut trees and shrubs too? A 40-fruiting tree could solve the problem.

I wonder: Might the circulating cup of delicious and non-intoxicating drink spoken of in the Quran passage be this Pellegrino (from an eternal spring, obviously, not recyclable bottles), possibly enhanced with juice of the lemon or lime? (Probably not that rose’ wine just beyond …)

Oakwood Landscape display, 2017

“There is more pleasure in making a garden than in contemplating a paradise.” — Anne Scott-James, English journalist and garden writer

Featured image: opalescent hellebore bloom, Heimlich Nurseries display, 2018

Write 28 Days: Have Heaven ~ Day 20 :: Anticipation Welcome to day 20 of 28 Days of Have Heaven, a short month of posts about heaven, paradise, perfection and desire, perfect places, art, theology, gardens, and more, using the Enya song "China Roses" as a jumping off point.

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carpetsofindia · 4 years ago

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captainrugwash · 4 years ago

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Understanding Tea Washed Rugs

https://captainrugwash.co.uk/understanding-tea-washed-rugs/

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eddiescarpetcleanz-blog · 6 years ago

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Eddies Carpet Cleanz is providing a professional rug cleaning services in Plymouth for your home and office. Our experienced and fully- trained cleaners will be happy to serve the great quality cleaning service to our customers.

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plymouth67756-blog · 5 years ago

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Benefits of using energy-efficient windows

Nowadays homeowners put a lot of effort when it comes to constructing their houses. Things that include new technology are provided more attention. When it comes to replacing any deteriorated window it can cause a lot of problems. It will create a lot of mess and at the same time, you will have to spend a lot of money. Most of the homeowners will always opt for the less expensive windows, but if you can invest a standard amount in the energy-efficient window then you can get some substantial benefits in the future.

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3. Whenever you are opting for energy-efficient and highly insulated windows you are getting proper soundproofing. They will seal any type of noise that is coming from the exterior condition like the noise of roadways, railroads, sirens and many more. It is mostly used in places where homes are constructed close to one another and soundproofing is very important.

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These are some advantages that one will get whenever they are opting for energy-efficient windows. You can take the help of the professionals when it comes to the Replacement windows Plymouth Michigan.

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mydigitallworld · 5 years ago

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Free Knitting Patterns - Plymouth Yarn Patterns

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from-tiny-pennies · 6 years ago

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Aleister Crowley was born Edward Alexander Crowley on the 12 October 1875. Perhaps one of the most well-known occultists in the modern era, he identified himself as the Prophet entrusted with guiding humanity into the Aeon of Horus, an occultist idea that existence is split into several defined ages of magic.

By Unknown – Originally published in The Equinox volume 1, issue 10 (1913) (see deletion discussion). This version taken from “Book 4, Part 2” by uploader Commons user Dnaspark99. Originally uploaded at Commons as Commons:File:Aleister Crowley, wickedest man in the world.jpg, but now deleted., PD-US, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39334796

Born to a wealthy family in Royal Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, Crowley rejected his parent’s Christian Plymouth Brethren faith to pursue an interest in Western esotericism. He was educated at the University of Cambridge, where he focused his attention on mountaineering and poetry, resulting in several publications. He was integral in fleshing out the parameters of modern occultism.

In the 1820s Abraham Crowley (Aleister’s great uncle) and two of his sons had purchased The Brewhouse in Alton. The Brewhouse expanded under the Crowley management and began to offer beer and a sandwich at a cheap price, inventing, according to some historians, the pub lunch.

In 1877 the Crowleys sold the brewery to the son in law of Abraham Crowley, and Aleister’s father re-invested his share. His father was able to retire young on the profits, and when he died he left Aleister a considerable fortune which financed him throughout life and allowed him to immerse himself in his interests.

During a trip to Cairo, Egypt Crowley claimed to have been contacted by a supernatural entity named Aiwass who laid out to him The Book of the Law, the sacred texts that formed the basis for Crowley’s newly created religion, Thelema. Crowley believed in the power of magik which was an alignment of science and mysticism, he described this magik as the science and art of causing change to occur in conformity with will.

[amazon_link asins=’B00KF29DO2,1556438990,1614272794,0738751049′ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’AM1′ marketplace=’UK’ link_id=’35244b6a-7654-435f-9857-47a0db4eb97f’]

Back in the UK, Crowley purchased Boleskine House from the Fraser family in 1899. The house at that time was known as the Manor of Boleskine and Abertarff after the name of the local parish. Crowley believed the location was ideal to sequester himself away to perform a series of operations known as the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage, taken from a grimoire called The Book of Abramelin.

According to Crowley, in his book The Confessions of Aleister Crowley, in order to perform the operations:

“the first essential is a house in a more or less secluded situation. There should be a door opening to the north from the room of which you make your oratory. Outside this door, you construct a terrace covered with fine river sand. This ends in a ‘lodge’ where the spirits may congregate.”

The purpose of this ritual is to invoke one’s Guardian Angel. It requires at least 6 months of preparation, celibacy and abstinence from alcohol. However, it also includes the summoning of the Twelve Kings and Dukes of Hell, to bind them and remove their negative influences from the magician’s life. Whilst Crowley was in the process of performing the lengthy ritual, he was called to Paris by the leader of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, an organization devoted to the study and practice of the occult, metaphysics, and paranormal activities during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. According to legend, he never banished the demons he had summoned, leading to strange happenings occurring in and around Boleskine House.

He left the property in 1913, moving to a modest cottage in Dennyloanhead near Falkirk.

Jimmy Page was a collector of Crowley memorabilia who “had read a lot of Crowley and … was fascinated by his ideas”. At the time Page bought the house it was in a state of decay, but he felt it would be a good atmosphere in which to write songs. However, after arranging for the house to be restored he spent little time there, leaving things in the care of his friend Malcolm Dent.

Although Dent was a sceptic of the paranormal he soon started to experience strange occurrences. After a few weeks, he heard strange rumblings from the hallway which stopped when he investigated but resumed after he closed the bedroom door. After researching the house he discovered the rumbling in the hall was supposedly the head of Lord Lovat, even though he was executed in London. Dent explains “above Boleskine there’s a place called Errogie which is supposed to be the geographical centre of the Highlands. Boleskine was then the nearest consecrated ground to Errogie and it’s thought his soul, or part of it ended here.”

By Simon Fernandez – https://www.flickr.com/photos/simonfernandez/3763985220/, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9457843

Dent also experienced the “most terrifying night of my life” at Boleskine. He awoke one night to hear what sounded like a wild animal snorting and banging outside his bedroom door. It went on for some time and it wasn’t until morning that he dared open the door, and there was nothing there. Another friend who stayed at Boleskine awoke one night claiming she had been attacked by “some kind of devil”.

Other happenings, such as chairs switching places, doors slamming open and closed for no reason and carpets and rugs rolling up inexplicably, failed to deter Dent from staying. Dent met his wife whilst at Boleskine and raised his family there.

Although Jimmy Page never spent a great length of time there, he did everything he could to return the house to how it would have looked during Crowley’s ownership. He commissioned an artist, Charles Pace, to paint some Crowley-esque murals on the walls. These were based on the murals in Crowley’s Abbey of Thelema in Sicily discovered by Kenneth Anger in 1955.

Aleister Crowley, the Occultist from Leamington Spa Aleister Crowley was born Edward Alexander Crowley on the 12 October 1875. Perhaps one of the most well-known occultists in the modern era, he identified himself as the Prophet entrusted with guiding humanity into the Aeon of Horus, an occultist idea that existence is split into several defined ages of magic.

#aleister crowley #boleskine #crowley brewery #jimmy page #leamington spa

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anarchy-n-glitter · 7 years ago

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Unheard Screams

This is just a short horror story I wrote. Enjoy!

It arrived in the mail exactly one month ago. At first Malcom had thought it was a joke, some sort of sick joke. It was an invitation from Lee, an old friend of his who had gone missing when they were children. An old friend who was confirmed to be dead after two months of searching. The invitation was for a party-a ball as a matter of fact-in a small town called Bistir, which was located on the outskirts of Transylvania. Malcom found himself laughing out loud at the invitation, that wasn’t her hand writing, and she never spoke like that. Someone was posing as her, why would she be in Transylvania anyway? Not to mention in a place Malcom had never heard of once in his entire life. She was from Arizona and her body was found in Arizona. It had to be a joke. Soon, he would find out it was quite the opposite.

A winding road in the dark countryside lead to the only thing it could, an enormous castle, illuminated by only the moonlight. It stood out from its deep blue background, it’s stone bricks shining and casting a shadow on the ground below and encasing the homes and shops below it in complete darkness. It all seemed extremely mysterious and almost melodramatic. Needless to say, Malcom was shocked. Although Bistir was a nice town, small yet comfortable, it had a gothic and almost disturbing edge to it. The buildings were small and almost medieval looking, and the townsfolk seemed to understand this considering they went the extra mile and put torches up.

Malcom considered this to be a joke as well. ‘The locals must have known about the incoming guests and… they’re just messing with us. Of course they are, why else would they put such things up?’ Malcom thought before laughing to himself awkwardly. His grip tightened on the wheel. He gazed upward at the towering castle, it was still as impressive as it was when he first arrived. Tall and beautiful, basking in the moonlight, demanding attention and holding a presence over the town like a raincloud. A small shiver crawled up his spine after a few brief moments of staring at it.

Tall, rusty gates were only a few feet away from the front of Malcom’s grey 1968 Plymouth, and it didn’t take long for someone to emerge from behind said gates to approach him. The man who came toward him was quite tall and not to mention extremely thin. Long and lanky limbs hung low below his hips and swung in a disturbing manner when he walked, and he walked with a limp. His long and stringy black hair hung down below his shoulders, even when he stood up straight. It swung and bounced with every small movement he made. An elongated and thin limb was raised as the man knocked on the driver’s window, which Malcom lowered almost immediately. The man gave an open-mouthed smile, his upper lip curling inward causing him to show off the yellowing and rotting teeth that were concealed behind those pale, thin lips.

“Invitation?” He slurred in a foreign accent, holding out his large hand which crossed into Malcom’s car. In one hurried motion, he retrieved the card from the glove box and handed it over to the man, who studied the thick paper closely, before seeing the signature. His eerie smile had faded once he had laid his eyes on the signature. He placed the invitation in his black coat before pushing the gates open, which made an awful screeching sound that almost seemed to mimic the sounds of a dying animal.

The tan dirt road had turned into a dark cobblestone pathway and driveway after the gate, and Malcom eyes widened with amazement. The castle had brilliant, dark arches that were supported by detailed pillars. They were just after the stone steps and these steps and archways led to the large, dark oak doors that were, currently, concealed by darkness. Malcom was just about to put his car into drive before the strange man had stopped him.

“I must take your car to the back. It’s protocol.” The man told him. Malcom sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt, getting out of the car and leaving the door open for the man. He stood out of the way for a few moments, watching the red lights on the back of his car fade away into the horizon before it made that inevitable turn around the enormous building, and he was left alone to stare in awe at the sheer size of the place he was invitedto. At first he thought it was a joke, now he knew it was real, and Lee had to be in there.

He ascended the steps and moved toward the door while also admiring the gothic architecture that surrounded him. Everything seemed to be centuries old, and the woman who lived here must have been filthy rich. Which made him wonder, why was he invited? The only ties he had to this woman was Lee, and he didn’t even know how Lee knew her or how she was alive. All he knew was that he was going to a social event to meet a countess named Adela and see Lee again. Even if she wouldn’t be the Lee he remembered.

Finally, he had reached the large doors, they had dwarfed him, much like the rest of the castle. He knocked on the door and waited for a brief moment. The doors opened slowly with a loud creaking noise, almost like the gates, but this noise was much more expected from an eerie place such as this one. A woman had answered the door, she was thin and short with the same stringy hair as the man who had approached him at the gate, except her hair was a platinum blonde color. She was extremely pale and had bags under her hazel eyes. She had the look of boredom on her face, and for a while it seemed as if that was her only facial expression. She stared at Malcom for a long while before smiling an almost identical smile as the man had before.

“Welcome!” She exclaimed as she opened the doors wider. She practically froze in a flamboyant pose as she waited for him to walk in. There seemed to be a glassy haze that went over her eyes as she stayed in position, waiting for him to enter, and everything about her began to seem off to him. She was as still as a wax figure, and she gave off the impression that she wasn’t breathing either. As soon as he entered she straightened out, small, dainty hands ran across the skirt and apron of her maid uniform. Malcom looked around at the hallway. It was decorated brilliantly; it was just as beautiful as the exterior. The walls had a glimmering gold wall paper which was eventually cut off by red, it was the same shade of red as the rug; a blood red.

Malcom walked down the hallway, with the maid closely behind him, her heels clicking even though they stood on carpet. Her cold, bony hand reached out to touch his shoulder and after the contact was made Malcom jumped.

“The ballroom is all the way down the hall. Don’t go into any other room.” She smiled that same unsettling smile as she and the man had done before.

“And don’t go downstairs either.” She warned before turning away, her long blonde hair whipping at her own body at the abrupt movement. Malcom had suppressed a shudder after witnessing this, realizing just how odd and almost dreamlike the servants around the castle were.

Malcom turned his attention back to the large, golden doors at the end of the hall. It should be mentioned that everything in the estate was large; the doors were large, the hallways could fit at least thirty people and still have enough room for them to move, and the picture frames on the walls were enormous. Each frame displayed a painting of a woman, multiple women (or at least, that is what Malcom thought), and they all had the same expression. They all had the same piercing green eyes. Each painting seemed to watch Malcom as he made his way down the hall, and, to him, they turned their heads to watch him. This made him pick up his pace.

Once he made it to the door, he could hear music and chatter echoing from inside. He gently pushed on the doors and immediately his eyes had widened. The entire room screamed luxury. The floors were reflective and they were almost the same color as the walls, if not they were at least a lighter shade. The walls were decorated with swirls that looked like lace, and they held pillars that seemed to be sculpted out of pure gold themselves. Most of the people attending were standing on the sides of the dancefloor, talking and laughing amongst themselves, holding tall, thin glasses filled with champagne. The women wore extravagant dresses that seemed to drag on forever below them due to the reflection, and the men wore clean and pressed tuxedos. A pocket-square was found on each man… except for Malcom. And suddenly, Malcom felt severely underdressed.

Another unusual servant approached him with a platter containing champagne glasses atop it. The man lowered the platter and offered Malcom a glass, to which he politely declined and made his way toward the other people there. The servants all moved along the edges of the crowd, never daring to intertwine themselves with the guests. But the odd thing about the servants was the fact that they almost looked identical to each other. Minor differences in their faces were the only variances among them. It was almost as if they were molded to be the same in every way. It sent another crawling sensation up Malcom’s spine, but it didn’t stop there. This time the feeling had infiltrated his instincts which had told him that something was off. Deep down, Malcom knew he was in danger.

The murmurs amongst the crowd became louder and each word was finally comprehendible as he maneuvered through the horde of partygoers. No person in particular had stood out to him. They all seemed like they were dolls, tall and faceless, perfectly sculpted dolls to suit one’s vision

(but who’s vision was it?)

and unreal, much like the servants.

Colors began to blur as Malcom rushed passed random people. He didn’t realize it, but he was desperate. He wanted answers. Where was Lee? Why was he here? He obviously didn’t belong there, so why him? He didn’t have to search for these answers, however, because the answers stood right in front of him in a shimmering, golden dress.

“Lee.” Malcom muttered to himself as he approached her. She was a tall and slim woman with dark hair and beautiful, bright blue eyes. She wore little makeup that night, the makeup she did wear was a simple red lipstick and mascara. Not much had to be added to her naturally beautiful look. Malcom could barely believe that it was her, she was dead for so long, he had believed she was dead for so long, and yet here she was. Those ghostly blue eyes had drifted toward him as he got closer. But as he got closer, and although he could not see it, she became more unhuman.

“Hello.” Her voice was as soft as silk and kind, but confusion was present in her eyes. He waved at her, smiling widely.

“Lee, it’s been so long. I can’t believe you’re here-”

“My name isn’t Lee. Perhaps you have the wrong person. I’m Leanne. Pleased to meet you.” She explained, holding her hand out for him to shake. For a moment, Malcom considered that maybe this really wasn’t Lee. He took her hand and shook it. Her hand was cold. The illusion was broken the moment his fingers had touched her ice-like ones. She looked like the rest of the partygoers. She had the same glazed over eyes that never seemed to truly meet his gaze, and below said gaze were purple rings that almost touched her cheeks. She was as pale as the rest of the people there. She looked like she could have been dead.

(her hand was cold)

This clearly was not the Lee he had known. Why was he brought here, then? Who was behind this? Why him? Why did she look so much like his dead friend? Who here had known about her? Who had created this Frankenstein’s monster before him?

(who’s vision was it?)

Leanne was taken aback by his sudden silence. She was trying to get to know this odd man, this obviously lost man, but he wouldn’t answer. Discomfort bubbled up within her. A part of her began to scream out. It screamed a name that was unfamiliar to Leanne: Malcom. After she contemplated this name her head began to ache and pound. The urge to claw at her head surged through her, but something seemed to be clawing through it already. It was just begging to be released, just begging to break free from whatever cage it was being held in. For a brief moment, Leanne was unsure of who she was. Who she truly was. Did this strange fellow finally wake her up from the coma she was trapped in?

The crowd had quieted down. Malcom had forgotten that he was in public, he forgot that it wasn’t just him and Leanne. At the center of the crowd, which was beginning to form a circle, was a tall, thin, pale woman with dark hair. She stood out from the rest of the guests. She wore darker colors than them, and she was much more intimidating than the living wax figures he was surrounded by. She held a tall, thin champagne glass in her left hand, and in the other was a shining butter knife. She must have tapped the glass with it earlier, but of course Malcom was preoccupied and would not have heard it.

This woman was frightening. She wore the colors of a black widow, and if anything, this should have warned him to stay away, to get away from this place and never look back. But this is not that kind of story. Malcom was not wise enough to leave while he had the chance. Instead, he listened to what this mysterious and deadly looking woman had to say.

“I wanted to thank everyone for coming tonight for our annual ball. I would like to introduce you all to our special guest, Malcom.” The crowd parted after this, revealing Malcom and Leanne standing in the middle. Everyone was staring at him, not Leanne. They were watching him. They were watching him with those blank, unnatural, unemotional eyes that were never truly focused on him.

“Welcome to Bistir, Malcom.” She finished as she held her glass up. The partygoers followed in her footsteps and raised their glass to him as well. The sight was terrifying to Malcom, they all followed her without hesitation, all of them staring at him blankly. Their faces held no emotion whatsoever. Were they all just puppets? Did this woman do something to Lee?

(who’s vision?)

After this woman’s address to Malcom was over, everyone went about their business. Leanne had disappeared and Malcom was left by himself in this strange world. The woman, the cause of his discomfort, was making her way toward him. She approached Malcom with all the grace of a lioness sneaking up on prey, and that’s how Malcom felt, he felt like prey.

“Hello, Malcom. I see you got the invite.” She pointed out. He eyed her suspiciously. Did she send the invite and sign Lee’s name at the bottom? How did she even know about Lee?

“You sent the invitation?” He asked in a shocked tone. The woman’s lips curved upward in a closed-mouthed smile.

“Of course. Who else would invite you to my castle for a party I was throwing?” She inquired sarcastically. He stared at her for a long moment before sighing.

“The invitation was signed under the name Lee Lynch. I knew her, she was a friend of mine that I hadn’t heard from in years. Care to explain why that was?” He snapped. The woman laughed.

“Richard!” The man who took his invitation from earlier slipped through a couple of people before standing at her side.

“Can you please hand me Mr. Autumn’s invitation?” She asked, and the man, Richard, obliged.

“Dear Malcom Autumn, you are invited to the annual Bistir Ball held by yours truly, Adella Ramnof. This will be a great opportunity to experience Transylvanian culture at its finest. I do hope that you can attend. Signed, Adella Ramnof.” She read aloud before turning the invitation toward him. And sure enough, it was all there. Had he really received a letter from this lady, Adella? How could he have missed that?

“I apologize.” He told her sincerely. Adella simply laughed.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened.” She mentions ominously to herself. An uncomfortable silence fell upon the two, and behind Adella, in the background, everyone was staring at them. Uncomfortable-looking and unnatural smiles were spread wide on their cheeks and their eyes seemed to disappear into their heads, in their place were two dark pits where the eyes should be. The abyss was staring back at Malcom from all different directions, and it was in the form of eyes.

“I assume you’ve met my niece, Leanne?” Adella mentions, bringing Malcom’s attention away from the unusual guests. His eyes glanced back at Adella and Leanne, who was now standing beside Adella.

“Yes, I have.” Malcom answered quickly and without hesitation. His heart was beating against his ribcage, begging to be set loose. Malcom would have happily ripped it out of his chest right then and there, just to end his misery. With every moment he spent in this damn castle he felt as if her were being spun into a web that he couldn’t escape. The room became a golden blur within seconds, and Malcom began to lose his balance.

“Mr. Autumn? Are you all right?” Adella inquired as she watched her guest stumble and sway. Her words fell deaf on his ears as he blacked out.

(Vision?)

White room. IV tubes. Curtain. Web. Spider. Widow. Countess.

When Malcom awoke, he could not remember what had happened. He was in a well-furnished room, in a bed with a dark blue comforter and white sheets. The room was dark, with only a sliver of moonlight shining through the white curtains that covered the window. It was the only window. The night held several sounds that set Malcom on edge. Stomping, and then silence. Creaks, and then silence. He wanted to leave Bistir and never look back. He wanted to go home, back to his comfy apartment in Arizona. His world went dark again.

(hand was cold.)

Head ache. Doctor. Drowning. Lips. Dead. Roaches. Niece.

The second time he awoke it was day. The sun shone through the sheer curtains to illuminate the Victorian-styled room. Malcom was surrounded by green walls which were eventually cut off by wooden planks. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out how he got into this position.

Adella was walking down the hallway of the second floor. Malcom was brought up to a spare bedroom after he lost consciousness. After that everyone went home. Her heels made a muffled sound as her feet gently hit the carpet, she was quiet enough to scare Malcom when she entered his room. He jumped as the door creaked open, and the countess stuck her head in. She was in the room quicker than Malcom had fainted the night before.

“How are you?” She asked in a quiet and almost timid tone.

“I honestly don’t know. What happened?” He inquired. Deep down, Malcom was afraid to find out what had truly happened, even if he was dying to find out why he passed out.

“You fainted.” She answered in a humorless tone. Malcom was still worried about his health, obviously Adella had no clue why he had fainted. She sat on the foot of his bed. She did this action without breaking eye-contact with him. He could see the grim expression on her face and almost immediately he knew that the news she was about to deliver was not good.

“I called your job, you won’t be going back for a while. It wouldn’t be wise of you to return with these health conditions. Have you ever fainted like this before?” She asked. Malcom eyed her suspiciously, which resulted in her giggling.

“I’m a doctor. Even if I wasn’t, after last night, I would have called one in.” She explained. Malcom nodded, still unsure of this woman.

“Do you have a history with low blood sugar?”

“I… I’m not sure.” Malcom answered as he held a hand up to his head. She sat there, staring at him and contemplating what the issue could have been.

“Well then. I’m going to have to run tests on you later, so when I summon you I expect you to cooperate and follow me, okay?” Malcom nodded. She smiled at him before standing once more, her piercing green eyes seemingly searched through him.

“Okay. Well, the castle is yours. I don’t suggest that you go in the basement. It’s a hazard down there.” She joked, but Malcom didn’t find this funny. This comment made him think about the night before, the maid, the servants in general. Things began to come back to him in waves. Constant, harsh, unwavering waves that brought a sickening dizziness to his head. The smell of toast rushed to his nose and, for a brief moment, he panicked.

His eyes quickly glided toward the plate on the nightstand to his left. It was full of wonderful- smelling foods. Fluffy, yellow eggs were piled onto the plate beside the crisp bacon, and then there was the toast. It wasn’t too burnt, but it wasn’t just regular bread. Butter was slowly melting away on it’s warm surface, and there was a dash of cinnamon that could be smelt, but only faintly. Malcom reached out as soon as he saw the plate, grabbing the fork and the plate, and dug in.

He saved the toast for last, which he devoured almost as fast as the rest of the food. As he finished the plate, a tingling feeling on his arm emerged. It moved from his forearm to his wrist, then to his hand. He ignored the feeling and dismissed it as an itch, but as he bit down on the final pieces of the toast he could finally see the cause of the “itch.” It had to be at least two inches in length, the antennae bounced up and down as it stared him down. The body was a copper-like color and looked like it was wet. It was a damn roach.

Malcom stifled a small scream as he brushed the small creature off of him. He looked back at the plate to find that it was suddenly overrun with roaches, most of them were not alive, and instead they were bits and pieces strewn about the plate, its white guts displayed for all of the world to see. Except the world didn’t see them, Malcom did, and he suddenly had an urge to puke. His first instinct was to get away from the vomit-inducing plate, but after that he did something rather peculiar. He lifted a hand to his teeth and pulled out a mangled and crushed lower half of a roach. Bile rose in his throat and he jumped off of the bed, ready to run to the bathroom.

How did he not see that it was not food? Why couldn’t he see the plate of roaches? He was disgusted and sick to his stomach. He would rather not see the roaches again, but he couldn’t help it. The bathroom was across from his bed, and he made a run for it.

The night was new and his hostess, Adella, was missing. He had wandered the large castle’s corridors for hours now, looking for her. Yet, at the same time, he was looking for answers. He wanted an explanation for the roaches, why they looked like food to him. She would know. She would have to know; this was her home after all. But she was nowhere to be found.

Malcom had a feeling he knew where she was, and it made him feel uneasy. His eyes darted toward the door under the stairs. He knew that this door led to the basement, the one place he was forbidden to go, he couldn’t help it. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them. He didn’t care about the rules, there was something wrong here. He randomly fainted at the party, then he ate cockroaches that looked like regular food. She’s going to answer him, whether she liked it or not.

He looked around, making sure that none of the servants were around, before opening the door and entering into the blinding darkness within. He wasn’t sure what he was going to be met with, but he was sure it wasn’t good.

He navigated the first ten or so steps, but he didn’t realize how deep the cavern truly was. There were several more flights of steps below, but Malcom could not see this. He stepped down off of the tenth step as if there was a flat surface to step onto in the first place, but instead, he fell. The jagged edges of the stone steps crushed his sides and prodded at his soft flesh. Pain erupted in his shattered and splintered bones when he finally reached the bottom. It was a miracle that he wasn’t dead.

Blood trickled and oozed out of his butchered hands, which were used to protect his head as he descended. The pain, however, was too much for him. He fainted once more.

When he awoke, he found himself in a white room. It was just that, four walls, all of them illuminated by blinding lights that practically shone off of the walls. He tried to move his arms in order to get up, but he found himself unable to. It wasn’t the fact that he was weak, and while his bones were decimated, it wasn’t necessarily that either. He was tied down.

He struggled, ignoring the searing pain that came with it, and eventually called for help. He expected someone to show up. Someone would hear him.

The door had opened almost immediately. Lanky, puppet-like men in white rushed in and held him down. He panicked. All he could wonder was why this was happening to him. They cackled and howled like wild animals, their pink and unnatural eyes wide and alert. One man pulled out a needle, and threateningly, he held it above Malcom’s eye. Their laughter increased in volume, drowning out Malcom’s thoughts. The metal glistened before him, blinding him in one eye for a brief moment before a whistle sounded, but he couldn’t find himself able to stay awake for that. They moved away from him, and he watched as Adella herself entered the room. She wore white scrubs, ones that were already covered in blood. Malcom was almost convinced that this was a dream.

“Hello Malcom.” She greeted, her voice cold and distant. She came closer to him and examined a tray next to him, before finally picking up a separate, larger needle.

“I bet you’re wondering why you’re down here. Well, the answer is simple. But this answer is longer than you might expect, as a matter of fact, the reason why you’re here goes back farther than you would think.” Malcom stared at her, convinced that she was a psycho, but also enticed. Why was he there? Was this her plan from the beginning?

“You were right about Leanne. She knew you, just as you knew her. The reports weren’t wrong when they said she was dead, but of course that came much later. Every night, however, she spoke of you in her dreams. She would beg you to come and save her. It was pathetic. Now then, I decided to press a bit further into this, and I asked her who you were. When she didn’t answer, I had to rip my way through her head. As you can see, this wasn’t so hard with the technology I have.” She motioned toward the large machine that Malcom was hooked up to. He gasped when he saw the purple, flesh-like tubes that were connected into his arm, around these tubes, he could see his skin becoming red. He could feel the flaming heat on his arms as he followed the long bumps that traced his upper arms. Just like that, when he saw the tubes, he felt them probing their way through his body, and he shrieked in pain. This pain was more intense than any pain he had felt before. It was worse than when he fell down the stairs, worse than the subtle pain on his arms where the tubes connected. It was a maddening pain that would make him happy to see even the gates of Hell if it meant that he could get away from Adella and her organic torture device. Adella watched coldly as he writhed in pain.

“I found out about you, and I thought, maybe you would bring peace to Lee’s mind. Maybe you would be her breaking point. I needed her to be submissive, you know.” She continued. Malcom watched the rising bubbles in the tank that was currently connected to his arm. The liquid inside was a dark red, and he knew immediately what she was doing.

“She broke soon after I sent that letter and forced her to sign her name. I didn’t just give up on you though, obviously.” She told him.

“But why? Why didn’t you just let me go? You got Lee, why go out of your way for me?” He asked her, causing her to let out a deafening belch of laughter. She approached him, taking the protective cover off of the needle, and leaned into Malcom’s ear.

“Because humans have been keeping me alive for centuries.” She placed the needle into his arm.

“When combined with a special chemical, your blood becomes somewhat of a Lazarus drink for me. If I feel the effects of getting old, then I look for a new specimen to keep me from growing old. It keeps me going for years. I need you, Malcom. Don’t you see?” Malice leaked from her voice like water would leak from a punctured bucket.

(or blood)

Adella then pushed down on the syringe, letting the chemical drain into his body and multiply.

“Sad thing is that it kills whoever I inject it into. But it won’t hurt me. The blood neutralizes it. Turns out the life lengthening is just a perk.” She giggled before leaving the room.

And so, Malcom was left to die in the basement of a vampire’s castle, blood draining out of him slowly. His time was up, this he realized. So he had succumbed to his fate and let the chemical slowly kill him, eventually rotting him from the inside out.

#horror #body horror #plot twist #short story #death #angst #long lost friends #mystery #vampire #gothic #bigger universe

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bestnearmenet · 8 years ago

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