Part 22

        Saturday morning, I woke up incredibly early. Actually, I woke up several times - my subconscious knew my plan for the day, and I was so eager to get an early start that I had a lot of false alarms. At 5:30, though, the sun was finally rising, so I rolled out of bed and into the shower. I felt pretty bleary, since I had barely slept the night before, but the shower woke me up a bit, and I knew the crisp morning air would do so even more. I threw on a sturdier pair of jeans, and a t-shirt with slightly longer sleeves. I could always rolls the sleeves up if I got too warm, but if I was going to be doing any more battle with rose bushes, I wanted however much protection I could get. I ran a comb through my hair, being a bit more violent with the tangles than usual, and threw it into a high ponytail, slipping a couple strong barrettes in to keep the stray hairs out of my face. My small backpack was already packed, with brown bag full of a couple of sandwiches, an apple, some cookies and a granola bar, as well as two bottles of water. Inside the backpack was also the small camera bag I'd used before, stuffed full of blank rolls of film. (I'd wait until I'd gotten through the woods before I snapped it onto my belt loop - it would be more convenient there, but I wasn't going to risk it falling off somewhere in the woods. I wasn't about to go through that mess again!) My digital camera was tucked into the bag too, just in case I wanted it for anything. I'd thought about bringing the flash and some extra lenses for the SLR, but decided to hold off for today. I wasn't sure I'd need them, and I hated carrying the lenses around, they were huge and I was so paranoid about damaging them. I had a flashlight, and my cell phone was in my bag too. (And I'd left a note on my desk, just in case).
        By six o'clock, I was out the door. The air was pretty chilly, the dew laying heavily and sparkling on every blade of grass. I took a deep breath, and let my head fall back to gaze up at the sky, grinning brightly. It was going to be a gorgeous day, there were only the slightest clouds in the sky, I'd have great lighting. Tempted as I was to take some pictures around the yard...I'd done that already, and I wasn't about to use up film I might want to use at the villa!

        It took me a little while to find my way back, though not as long as I'd feared. I took the creek route, partly because I knew it would be easier to find (I couldn't quite remember where I'd come out on the road on the way home before), and also so I could time it, and see which way was actually quicker, following the creek or following the road. This way was prettier, anyway. The light didn't filter strongly enough through the trees to make for good photos, which was just as well, but it was really nice to walk through, so still and quiet. I caught a few glimpses of deer off in the distance, but they heard me and leapt away out of sight before I got anywhere near them.
        I approached the villa slowly, cautiously. I walked all the way around the clearing first, to see if there were any signs of life. I still didn't see anything, there weren't any signs anyone had walked around recently - though even the paths I'd plowed through the gardens had closed back in on themselves. I did find a small building a short distance away, which I decided must have been the carriage house at one time. Peering in through a filthy window, I could see where there had been a small stable for the horses - I could see some hay pushed into a corner, and some harnesses hanging on a wall. In a window set in a large doorway, I could see a wide open space, presumably where the carriage had once been parked, the door being big enough for one to pass through.
        No car in sight - no means of transportation at all. And no sign that the carriage house had been used in, I had no idea, decades anyway. None of the door handles would budge - but they felt rusted shut as much as locked, the mechanisms barely moved. ...which made me a little more nervous about the house, since the door handle there had moved cleanly enough. But I still didn't see anything to confirm anyone had visited the clearing besides me.
        I took a few photos around the carriage house, but I still felt a little nervous, so I made my way toward the villa. I walked quietly, listening, but kept in plain sight of the house, trying to not look suspicious. It occured to me that it was still pretty early in the morning, it couldn't be much past seven o'clock. Still, normal people got up between seven and eight, I wasn't exactly on campus at the moment. I decided to just bite the bullet and get the worst over with...
        I walked up to the front door and looked at the handle. There was no key.
        I knocked. Again. Still feeling ridiculous.
        I waited a good five minutes, then knocked again, louder. Still nothing. I looked at the door handle again. Still no key.
        ...what the hell was going on here? How did a freaking key get in my photo?? There was no one here. There were no signs of life. The door handle still looked like it hadn't been touched in countless years. The windows were still as filthy as they had been the previous weekend, there was still no movement anywhere, no old guy screaming at me to get off his damn property, no psychopathic hobo rapist chasing me down, no bleak old romantic wreck telling me his sob story.
        Oh screw this, there was one way to settle this once and for all. I took a deep breath and wrapped my hand around the door handle. I lifted it. It was locked. I groaned and let go, bringing my hand up---
        I froze, my fingers stinging. I had been about to put my hand to my forehead in exasperation, but on the way up... it had hit something. Something near the door handle.
        Trembling a bit, I moved my hand back down toward the lock on the door, my fingers stretching out searchingly into the empty air.
        They touched something cold and solid, that felt awfully like metal...though I couldn't see a thing there. I knelt down, feeling a little weak, and also to try looking from a different angle. Still empty air, to my eyes at least. My fingers, though... I slid them lightly along the short metal rod, and found a cloverleaf-shaped end, with an uneven surface that felt like intricate ironwork, like the knocker and the doors and everything else around the villa.
        I turned the key in the lock, twisting it one way and then the other, until I could feel the mechanism release. I let my fingers fall away from it, looked at my fingers, looked at the lock. It was there... I'd felt it, it was there. My camera had seen it...
        Holding my breath, I tried the handle.
        It opened.
        I could actually hear my heart pounding, and I would have called out to anyone who might have been inside, but I could barely breathe, let alone speak. I rapped at the heavy door, then slowly pushed it open.

        I didn't even have to set foot inside to see that no one had been inside. Dust lay almost an inch thick on the floor, there were bits of fallen plaster and other debris all around. No foot prints in the dust, no areas cleaned. No one had stepped on the once-golden floorboards in decades. I took a deep breath and managed to call out, but my voice echoed flatly in the empty air.
        There was no one there. The house was empty, and a ghost had left me its key to get inside.
        I took another deep breath, trying to get my heart beat under control, and stepped into the villa.

        It was quiet. Unearthly quiet, there was no sound anywhere. I could hear a bit of birdsong in the distance through the open door behind me, but inside the house was an almost tangible silence. I felt nervous about closing the door, like it would cut off my only connection to the world I lived in, so I left it a little ways open. It was dim inside, since the windows were covered not only in grime but also in vines. I hadn't even thought about that aspect, it would make taking pictures a lot more difficult. But I could use more practice with taking really long exposures anyway...
        The door opened to a foyer, a short hallway stretching ahead and a stairway to the left, with a surprisingly high ceiling. The half-circle window I'd noticed from outside, maybe four or five feet above the front door, let a bit of light into the entryway, but not much. The walls were covered in wallpaper, now peeling away in places, ivory with maybe a gold patterning to it. Wood trim - the same dark, almost black wood that the door was made of - ran around the edges of the room, carved into flourishes near the ceiling. As my eyes moved upwards, they widened at the sight of a huge chandelier, hung with hundreds of faceted crystals. They were covered in dust, but even so I could tell that it had been a stunning, incredibly expensive fixture. The metalwork still glinted faintly, and the crystals caught a little light here and there. The crystal - or glass, or maybe diamonds for all I knew! - literally dripped from every curve. I squinted, and thought I could see candle stubs, but I wasn't really sure. Definitely no light bulbs though.