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lab.drwicked.com

^ That site is AMAZING, I wish I'd known about it in past years. I have a major problem with getting sidetracked (hi! I'm posting on my blog instead of chipping away at my word count!), and that site won't let you do it. It's like NaNoWriMo in ultra-condensed form. And with more threats!

...which I will need. I have twenty-four and a half hours to get another... five thousand or so words. And then I will win. \0/ I WILL DO IT! I have tomorrow off from work. And I have more caffeine in the house if I need it tonight.

Parts 26-27

        I stepped out on to the terrace, mincing my way carefully between the jungle of plant life. The thin layer of marble tiles that comprised the floor was thin and cracked in places, a few of the stones slightly out of place, revealing some dark material that must have been an adhesive. The rooftop patio was maybe ten feet by fifteen or twenty, but that was a pretty rough guess. Potted plants must have completely surrounded the edge of the thing, I couldn't see at all where - or if - there was a rail or anything to mark its edges. I had no idea what most of the plants were, though I made out some roses in the mix, and there were maybe ten or so ornamental trees, which couldn't grow all that large, but had definitely exceeded their expected boundaries, having been unpruned for so long. I pushed my way gently through the plants to the edge of the balcony, finding an iron fence to match style seen everywhere else, about four feet high. I pushed at it lightly, but it seemed sturdy enough still. I stood there for a few minutes, looking out over the small clearing, trying to imagine how the gardens must once have looked... but it had been too long, all I could see was a wild tangle. I took a few pictures, mostly framing the tower of the main entryway against the sky, but also some of the half-wild flowers spread out below.
        As I turned back toward the villa, I saw a second door I hadn't noticed before, next to the one I'd come through. I headed toward it - but my foot got caught on a vine, I tripped and crashed hard on my knees. Terrified, I checked my camera - but I'd managed to hold it up and keep it from smashing into the marble tiles. Only then did I inspect the damage I'd managed to inflict on myself. Just a small new tear in my jeans, some scrapes on one hand and an elbow. I sat there for a minute, getting my heart rate back under control.
        I was half afraid this door would be locked as well, but the knob turned easily, and I opened the door to find a set of stairs leading upward. It felt less cold here than other places in the house had, and I decided this was probably because it was exposed to a lot more sunlight, so it must warm up pretty well during the day. The short set of wooden stairs led to a single room, which took up the whole of the tower, a bit of railing blocking off the floor from where the stairs came up through it. There was a window on each wall, arched like all of the rest of the ones in the house, covered in incredibly delicate, airy lace curtains. These had yellowed a bit with the years, though they had probably once been some shade of white. The golden wood of the floor boards was left bare, apart from one rug in the center of the room, with a few embellished throw pillows resting on top of it. A chaise lounge of dark wood and ivory material was under one window - the one where the afternoon sun was just beginning to spill in, actually, and I realized that the whole room was probably designed with that very light in mind, since everything was oriented on that window, the curtains barely interrupted it, and even the walls were painted a warm ivory. The only dark things in the room were the few pieces of furniture, the railing, and a few cross-beams on the ceiling, which were all of the dark wood present through most of the villa.
        I was about to turn and head downstairs - it was a pretty little room, but not much to see, once I'd taken a picture of the sunlight drifting lazily down onto the lounge seat. But as I brought the camera down from taking that shot, something caught my eye, and I realized the walls weren't quite bare after all. There was something on the wall beside the sunlit window, only off to the side where the light wouldn't actually reach it. (Actually, given the placement of the windows, it didn't look like sunlight would ever touch it.) Some dim shade of brown... suddenly my eyes went wide and I bounded up the stairs and across the room. Photos!

        They were very old, and I wasn't actually sure what kind of process had been used to make them. There were several prints, in very thin and delicate gold frames. A few had very high contrast, but the darkest areas actually had a shine to them, a metallic look, when looked at from certain angles. All of them had a slight sepia cast to them, but the smaller ones - only two inches or so square, so several were mounted into frames together - were much softer, with less contrast, gentler edges to the images. These must have been done with a cheaper method, they hadn't held up quite as well as the metallic ones, and the paper looked less sturdy. A few shots were close-ups of flowers, actually very nicely done, but the rest...
        The rest were portraits.
        None were very large, but I was pretty sure the technology limited the size of prints anyway that long ago, I knew that the whole plate process, the "negative" was the actual size of the eventual print, so photographers had to cart around these pieces of glass or metal or whatever, depending on the process. Film didn't turn up until... actually about the turn of the century, I thought, what was the guy's name, who founded Kodak and basically the whole idea of consumer-level photography... Eastman? He'd lived not far from here, Rochester I was pretty sure, I was annoyed with myself for not remembering more. The Brownie camera, though, I knew that was the first real amateur grade camera, and I was pretty sure it had used film. Ha, and here I'd thought the whole history portion of my photography classes were pointless.
        Finally I shoved aside all my mind's distractions and leaned in close, barely daring to breathe, studying the faces in the old photographs...
        It was a couple, a man and a woman. In the largest photo (which was still only maybe a five by seven print), she looked incredibly young, maybe eighteen, nineteen? He looked... I frowned a little, unsure. He was definitely way older, but I couldn't decide just how old he was. His face was fresh and unlined, ridiculously handsome actually (and she was absolutely angelic looking), but... something in his bearing, he seemed much, much older. His eyes, too, something in his expression, it looked like he'd really been through a lot. But his arm was around her, wrapping protectively around her shoulders, and she seemed completely at peace leaning into his side. I couldn't make out very many details, the image was awfully dark (it was one of the metallic ones), and pretty small, but the clothing on both of them seemed to be very expensive, her dress was covered in ruffles and lace and all sorts of girliness. I didn't actually know a thing about menswear, but he was in a suit, no tie, but a white shirt underneath, with one of those frilly-things at the neck. It didn't look at all ridiculous or pompous like you would expect, though, it looked very elegant on him. She had long hair that fell in loose curls past her shoulders, some medium shade of hair, not really light or dark, as best I could guess. His hair was very dark, and combed neatly back. She had a very open, sweet look about her, while he seemed... kind of imposing, actually, not outright evil or anything, but definitely someone with a strong enough presence that you'd feel awfully nervous about having to talk to him.

Part 25

I tried to line up a shot of some of the more elaborate bottles, but the light was far too low. I was going to have to clear some of the vines off the windows, if I was to do any serious picture-taking in this place.
        My stomach growled violently at me then, and a glance at my cell phone showed it was about noon. Glad some part of my body was still properly aware of time passing... the rest of me wouldn't have been able to make any kind of guess at all as to the time. I was so lost in this place, in the odd sense of another time that hung so heavily in it, like I could smell the long years in the mustiness of the air, and it was slipping into my blood. I stretched and looked around, trying to decide where to eat. I felt far too intimidated by the vast table in the dining room to sit and eat there all alone, so I went back to the ballroom, and sat on one of the wooden chairs next to a window, one that let in a little more light than some of the others. As I pulled a sandwich out of the brown lunch bag, I caught sight of my hands, and wished I had found a bathroom first. Or maybe tried one of the kitchen sinks? I pushed the sandwich up partway out of its plastic bag, and started eating, holding it from the outside of the bag. Would the water even work? Probably not, it wasn't like anyone would have been paying the bills... but there again, had running water really been common back then? Would the villa have even been hooked up to a town line or something, this far out, that long ago, or would it have drawn its water straight from a closer source? God, there were so many questions here! And I really hadn't answered any at all. I was now pretty sure that the place was abandoned, had been for ages, and that its inhabitants had once been incredibly wealthy. That was it.
        Well, no it wasn't. I knew they must have been really socially active, to have built a freaking ballroom in their little forest get-away, and have such a huge dining room, and...
        That struck me as odd. Why be so far away from town, able to have some peace and quiet, if you were only going to invite company all the time? It didn't make any sense whatever way I looked at it.
        They had definitely had strong artistic eyes, to have created a place such as this... or, at least one of them, I supposed. I realized that I didn't even have any evidence at all for it having been a "them" that lived here! I had just assumed it was a couple, a man and his wife, he very much in love and creating this place for her... but I laughed wryly, shaking my head. I had no way of knowing this, it was nothing more than my own longing for an interesting, bittersweet story to be attached to this place.
        But I knew there had to be a story like that, the sense of it had seeped into the very walls. Only how on earth was I to read it?

        I wasn't going to get anywhere by sitting here chomping on peanut butter and jelly. I shoved a cookie into my mouth, and pushed everything back into my bag, slinging it over my shoulders as I stood up. I decided I'd head up the stairs and see if they really did lead to the balcony on this side of the villa, finishing up this wing of the house before moving on to the other. The light would be doing better things outside than inside right now, anyway - it would be coming straight down, and so actually hitting the clearing, instead of being lost in the trees. And it wouldn't be able to slant in through any windows for an hour or two, so I wouldn't get much help with indoor lighting.
        I left the ballroom the way I had first come in, this time actually noticing the space at the end of the entrance hallway. Large glass doors actually opened onto... well, what I guessed had once been a patio, though it was so overgrown now I could only make out what was probably the shape of a table and a few chairs underneath the rampant leaves and flowers. Indoors there wasn't much, it was a largely empty space, probably kept that way to accommodate all the traffic coming in the front door and heading into the ballroom. Ball gowns probably required having a good bit of clearance - I grinned sheepishly as I remembered my own clumsy attempts at walking around in my prom dress back in school, and I doubted that had had nearly as big a circumference as some of the skirts that had passed through here. Still, there were a few low cabinets and tables along the walls, as in the hallway, with vases and flowers and statuettes and other small things artfully arranged on their tops. There were paintings on the walls here as well, though these were very small, and floral studies.
        Re-entering the hallway, I soon rounded the bend and climbed up the stairs. I stepped cautiously onto the first few steps, unsure of how sturdy they would be - but it seemed that whatever the place had been built of, it stood up to the aging process pretty well. Heck, even the front door told me that - made of wood, but no signs of rot or decay at all, after all this time? Even I knew that was impressive. I let my fingers skim lightly over the banister, leaving trails in the heavy dust. But I was feeling a little more secure here now - largely because of my increased confidence that the place was all mine, but also... I wasn't sure what, but I didn't worry so much about the villa being damaged by my being there. I knew that didn't make any sense, so I left the thought alone, to figure out later.
        There was a landing at the second floor, and to the right a hallway stretched out into the wing of the house I hadn't explored yet. To the left, as expected, a short passageway led to the curtained balcony. There were heavy curtains on this side, too, and I gingerly pushed them aside just enough to slip through. They really did weigh a lot more than you'd ever expect fabric too, and up close, I could see that they were embroidered with incredible details, with metallic thread and tiny beads (gemstones maybe?), an abstract flower-and-vine pattern as far as I could tell. The thread and beads were very close in color to the fabric though, so despite the density of the pattern, it had an elegant, subtle appearance. They smelled musty, but some other fragrance hung about them a little too, though it wasn't anything I could place. The balcony itself was carpeted - as was the passage leading up to it, I now realized, in some dark color that I couldn't quite make out in the dim light. There were a handful of comfortable looking chairs, two low tables, most of these placed near the elaborate gold railing that ran around the outside. Tall vases, which stood about up to my waist, were placed on either side of the entryway. A small chandelier hung in the middle of the balcony area, though it was far overhead, maybe fifteen feet or so, the chain it must hang from lost in the shadows of the curtains, which I knew went all the way up as high as the ceiling of the ballroom.
        I stepped up to the small space where the curtains were opened. I couldn't imagine how on earth to set about opening them wider, just pushing them far enough aside for me to get in here had been difficult enough. The view down over the ballroom was, as I'd expected, pretty amazing. I stood there a long moment, my imagination covering the glowing wood floor with the abstract blurs of couples dancing across it, their elaborate costumes a rainbow of colors, gemstones and gold and silver catching the light from the crystal chandeliers and making everything sparkle as a thousand colored stars...
        I don't know how long I let the daydream run, but one hand was starting to fall asleep, from the way I was leaning against my arm, which rested on the railing. It took me a bit to shake it off, though, which was unusual for me... unusual, too, to have visualized it so clearly. Maybe it was because I'd been spending so much time seeing the world through my camera's viewfinder, and my visual instincts were getting a lot more attention lately. Still... something about the daydream had been incredibly magnetic, something about the world it gave me a glimpse of felt... almost familiar, and I felt an oddly yearning sense of loss now that it had gone.
        Weird.
        I shook my head and stretched, shaking my hand violently to wake it back up. I grimaced as the pins and needles set in. Stupid circulation. I swung my backpack in front of me, and rummaged around for a flashlight. Turning it on, I made for the stairs leading upward, which were almost completely in the dark, with these curtains closed.
        I walked even more carefully on these stairs, thinking that since they led outside, they might have suffered a bit more damage over time. The lower ones at least didn't seem to have, they were made of the same golden wood as the floorboards in the rest of the house. As I neared the top, I saw that there was actually a door - which made sense, I'm sure they wouldn't have wanted winter winds spilling down through here and leaking into the balcony, and from there into the ballroom. The door was of the heavy, dark wood, but with a window set into it, an arched one with black iron trim, and colored glass set into an abstract floral pattern. It was a regular door knob on this door - the first I'd seen, come to think of it - and I moved my hand to gently turn it.

Part 24

        Time-darkened ivory walls lay like aged drawing paper behind the dark ink line work of iron curlicues and leaves and vines. In the top right corner of the frame, where the leaves were most densely packed together, a golden bird peeked its head out from behind a particularly large leaf. Bright gemstone eyes (diamond?) glittered dully in the diffuse light, and its long, gracefully curling tail feathers slipped out from between other leaves farther down.
        Black silhouettes of unmoving leaflets ran up the right side of brightly colored flowers, cut from dusty glass. Light streamed between the dust left by long years of neglect, catching on small motes in the air, like sunlit pollen drifting slowly away from the open blooms.
        Odd, abstract blotches discoloring the wall and darkening a patch of the bright floorboards. The blackness dripped from the lower corner of a window, as if it had been left open at day's end, and the night had begun to seep in, darkening all that it touched.
        A music stand leaning into an empty corner, its fluid dark lines slicing the frame into small triangles.
        A perfectly-formed pale hand stretching gracefully toward some precious thing unseen, its shadow lost in the dark leaves scattered behind it.
..


        I reached the end of another roll of film, and sat down in a dim corner to change it. Pulling the mini-Sharpie out of the camera bag I was using for film, I marked the just-filled canister with an X, and pulled out a fresh roll. I realized I'd used up three rolls already - almost half what I had with me. Crap. Maybe I'd just stick with this room for today, and leave the rest for another time.
        ...but would I be able to get in later? Could I put an invisible key in my pocket? I could feel the thing, I just couldn't see it... I hadn't even thought about that, I'd have to try it.
        Still, in case, I decided to walk around the rest of the house - no way my curiosity would let me leave without taking a look around anyway. I took a final, longing look around the ballroom, still aching to know the room's secrets. I had no idea how I would ever uncover them, but... that was an issue for another day. Today was for exploring.

        I decided to go out the door at the back of the ballroom, by the fireplace, and then loop around back this way once I'd explored the back wing of the house. It led almost immediately into a large, very long dining room, whose centerpiece was an immense wooden table, surrounded by high-backed, intricately carved chairs. The backs looked awfully uncomfortable, but I decided whoever was rich enough to live here must have been high-society, and probably had had way better posture than I did. The seats were cushioned, though, with what looked like velvet, all in rich, dark colors. Actually the whole decor in this room was in rich, dark colors, all burgundy and purple and emerald and sapphire, dark browns and warm golds. I had taken my digital camera out a little bit ago, to get some color shots of the ballroom windows, and some zoomed-in shots of the frescoes on the ceiling (not that those were probably going to be very good, the light was pretty dim up there). I pulled it out again, and took general overview shots of each room I went in to, to look at later and decide where to go back to. (And to see if I could spot any more clues about who had lived there, and why they had left the place to be abandoned.)
        The walls were painted a warm reddish-burgundy, not quite so dark as some of the other decor in the room. The window was mostly hidden by heavy drapes, but a bit of light fell through between them, showing just how much dust had piled up on the table. There were a few paintings on the walls, all landscapes that I didn't recognize. An elaborate gold candelabra stood in the middle of the table, and there were cabinets full of what I presumed was expensive china and glassware, though I didn't actually know a thing about the stuff (except how easy it was to break - there was good reason Mom never let anybody besides herself wash dishes at home anymore). I peered in through the glass cabinet doors, and wasn't at all surprised to see how elaborate the crystal and glass all was, and what tiny details were painted on the china. Any one of these dish sets would sell for... God I didn't even know, I'd seen much cheaper looking ones at the antique store go for like two or three hundred dollars, and those were nothing compared to these.
        The thought slipped through my mind that if I took only a few things from the house, and ran them down to the antique store, I could be a good couple hundred dollars richer in the blink of an eye. But the thought left as soon as it had come - not only was I not in the habit of stealing, but... hell I couldn't even mention this place in conversation to sweet harmless old people, for fear of shattering whatever it was about the place that I was determined to keep intact. I couldn't even imagine taking something out of it! Which brought me back to the question of the key, but I pushed the thought aside to deal with later.
        There were three ways out of the room, the way I'd come in, an open archway into a hallway, and a closed wooden door. I went for the door, and found myself in - as I'd somewhat expected - a kitchen. Though the cabinets were made of the omni-present dark wood, this room looked a good deal brighter, since all the countertops were made of the ivory marble, as were the floors. The windows were large, and the curtains here were of a much lighter material than any I'd seen so far. Some kind of translucent material, a warm pale aqua color, which let the light in nicely - where it could get through the vines growing outside, anyway. There were sinks and stoves, wire baskets and weird looking gadgets here and there, the uses of which I could only guess. Now that I stopped to think about it, pretty much every gadget I was used to seeing in a kitchen was electrical, no wonder I didn't recognize anything here! Nothing that looked like a refrigerator, either... I figured there was probably a cold cellar somewhere, and they would have had ice brought over from the lake in the winter, to keep things cold all year. I took a few close-ups of some of the more interesting looking utensils, moving a few of them closer to the window to get better light on them. I realized that these were the first things in the house I'd really touched... my fingers tingled a little at the contact, but I was pretty sure that was only because I was focusing on it so much. Still, silly as it was, when I'd taken the pictures, I put each object back where I had first seen it.
        The only other exit went out into the hall, so that's the way I went. There was only one more room on this side of the hall, and both it and the one opposite it were pretty sparse. I wasn't sure if they were storage or what, but given the lack of decoration, I was pretty sure they were rooms for the servants to use. I decided to leave prying into the cupboards for later. There were two rooms on the other side of the hall, opposite the kitchen and dining rooms. Both were decorated in dark, warm colors, though the smaller of the two looked more like a private study or office. It had a large desk, with one of those old-fashioned rolltop covers, which was pulled down. A typewriter was perched on top of the desk, and I grinned brightly as I took my camera to it. I had this weird thing for typewriter keys, just the way the letters looked inside their small rings of metal, the yellowing of the protective layer over the bit of paper with the letter imprinted on it. I splurged and took a handful of shots of the typewriter, it was close enough to the window that the light wasn't too bad. I could really bring up the contrast in the dark room to good effect though, I knew.
        The room next to it, across from the dining room (and part of the kitchen, technically, since the study hadn't been very big), I guessed was a sitting room - a drawing room? One of those rooms that men had gone to smoke and drink after dinner, to get away from the women and discuss manlier things. Boys. The room smelled a little mustier than some of the others had, and I wondered if that had anything to do with cigar smoke or something. There were some bookshelves along one wall, and another fireplace. Plenty of deep sofas and chairs to sit in, some foot rests, lots of low tables. A tall, ornate cabinet stood in one corner, out of the direct line of light from either the windows or the fireplace, and on closer inspection I saw through the etched glass doors that it was, quite literally, a liquor cabinet. A huge variety of bottles, some with labels in languages I couldn't read, filled the shelves. Most were glass, a few of them colored, and the liquids in them ranged from deep red to gold to clear to... green?? Alcohol was used to disinfect so many things, I was pretty sure it didn't ever go bad, but... that still seemed like an odd color for it to be.

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Sorting out architecture in your head is freaking hard. My sketchbook has a few more pages filled now... and I'm still not sure I'm happy with it, but at least I'm pretty sure it's all physically possible now! ugh.

Before you think that my vine-covered walls are completely ridiculous, this was actually my jumping-off point. I had a general idea of what I wanted, but googled for references, and when I saw this I was like YES! EXACTLY! and was happy. :) I think my decor has made the room a lot darker than that one, but it feels a bit cozier to me, and anyway it suits a Phisto a bit better. Well, this one, anyway. Anytime I'm not paying attention, Meres once lived here, but... I don't know if that makes sense for him to have done. The obsession with intricate details is very much him anyway. <3

About 1,100 words ahead again, which is fanfreakingtastic, since I have a hunch Thanksgiving is going to interfere with my nightly writing time.

I'm starting to think this story would make a better video game than a novel. I would absolutely love to walk around in this place, poking at things and finding little clues beneath the dust...

Further inspiration tonight came from this site, which turned up randomly as I was trying to figure out what kind of floors turn-of-the-century ballrooms would have had. I don't even know where this place is, somewhere around Great Britain, but this guy's trying to restore a pier and the old pavilion on it... the pavilion was built in the 1930s, and had an *amazing*, gorgeous art deco stained glass ceiling over part of it, which some horrible morons in the '60s COVERED UP. The place had been mostly empty for a few decades, and renovations in the '60s covered up a lot of the details, people had wallpapered over these incredible murals and things... It looks like it was a stunning place, and it's heartbreaking to see what happened to it, I'm so happy someone's working with such love to restore it. Even though it's, uh, highly unlikely I'll ever even be anywhere near it. I'm absolutely under its spell tonight.

...I only wish something like that had happened at Charlotte Beach back home, I'm so unbelievably thankful that the carousel is still there, but still haunted by the entire amusement park and waterfront area that once stood there.

Part 23

        I stepped softly on the floor, feeling as hesitant as I would on freshly-fallen snow, not wanting to disturb it any more than I had to. I almost hesitated to breathe, not wanting to push away anything that was a part of this strange place. I lifted my camera to my eye, looking through to check the light levels. Pretty dim... I doubted I'd be able to get a clear shot if I held the camera, my hands would shake too much in the amount of time the film would need to be exposed, blurring the image. I'd have to stay close to the windows, or find something to set the camera on. (A portable tripod was something still on my photographic wish-list, not something I often needed, but really should have for times like this!)

        I had no idea where to actually start taking pictures... I wanted to get an overall shot of the room, to have a reference later, and for my own memory, but it was so hard to get a good angle on that large a space. I didn't know if I could contain my curiosity long enough to focus on a single room without having even glanced at the rest of the house, but at the same time... I was so eager to learn the villa's secrets. Though now that I was inside, I realized my chances of doing so were incredibly slim. What did I expect to find, someone's home videos playing on loop in the living room? I had to laugh at that, but I found myself only smiling silently, unwilling to disturb the stillness. The atmosphere of the place was sinking quickly back into me, its air infiltrating my body with every breath.
        I aimed my camera up at the chandelier, which caught some of the light from the window over the door. I took a few steps around, trying for different angles, finally settling on one with the window behind the hanging pieces of crystal, the metalwork looping gracefully along one side of the frame. I knew I could always adjust the lighting a bit in the dark room, that would help some.
        I tread softly on the ancient carpet as I moved forward, its once-warm colors muted by dust and age. There was a hat tree to my right, in the corner beside the door, elaborately carved in the same dark wood as everything else. There were a few empty hooks on the wall nearby, then an open archway into another room, which I guessed was a parlor of some sort. The stairs to the left had an ironwork railing running up them, with a handrail of dark wood. As my eyes followed the stairway up, I realized that it didn't just cut off from sight where the second floor was. Instead, there was an arched opening to the left, where the second floor should be. I frowned a little - it hadn't looked from the outside like there was a second story to the large room, the windows had stretched up much higher than that, and I didn't see a floor drawing a line across their middles. Odd.
        Ahead of me, the hallway extended forward to what looked like a wider, open space, light spilling in I assumed from windows. There was a narrow table running along the right side of the hall, its legs of dark wood and its top of... marble, maybe? It looked a little more ivory than the flagstones outside, but it was difficult to judge with the light and the dust. A delicately-wrought vase of spun glass sat on top of this, with an arrangement of dried flowers poking stiffly out from it. I wondered if they had been dried when put there... or simply dried as they stood, left unattended for so long. I moved closer to the table, trying to get into a position where there was enough light to capture the dead bouquet... but no luck. I stepped back and opened the door wide, letting light spill in, and I grinned as I checked my light meter. It made just enough difference that the shot might work.
        From there, I looked around a moment, then decided to move ahead down the hall. If I went right, it would take me into the wing of the house filled with smaller rooms - which would be interesting, I knew, but I was absolutely dying to figure out what the huge room to the left was. I followed the hallway past the table, and into the open area.
        The first thing I saw was a huge archway to the left, marble pillars with intricate vines wrought of iron twined around them. The pillars were a deep ivory, and were huge, they must have been ten feet tall. The opening between them was also large, about the width of two or three normal-sized doors. But there was no door, only the golden wood floor passing between the pillars into a huge open expanse, small scraps of colored light dropping from stained glass windows...
        I didn't even take the time to look around the area I'd stepped into, I moved forward as though physically pulled, walking as if in a dream, drawn in through the pillars... My fingers brushed against them as I stepped through the entryway, the metal was so cold, like ice, and I knew that neither sunlight nor the warmth of a human hand had touched those cold vines since long before I had been born. Once I was through them, my eyes went wide, and I stood silent and motionless for a long while, just drinking it all in.

        It was a ballroom. It had to be. The expanse of floor was incredible, the room really did take up the whole area denoted by the tall windows, and it looked even larger on the inside. The walls were the same creamy ivory as the pillars leading into the room, and were covered in the same twining vines... only here and there, they burst into flower, with tiny gold stars of blossoms, and golden birds peering out from the dark leaves. It was incredible - like that old-fashioned wallpaper or fabric you sometimes see, covered in tiny little details, what was it called, some French word, toile maybe? Only wrought much larger, and with more depth, and... real. The flourishes and windings were all tangible, I couldn't even imagine how long making something like this would have taken...
        And the ceiling! Two huge chandeliers hung from it, dripping millions of tiny crystals and pearls like beads of water after a rainstorm. But stunning as they were, my eyes barely lingered on them, my gaze was drawn on upwards to the elaborate murals covering the ceiling...
        It was a garden of pleasures, exotic tropical plants reaching up toward a gleaming sun between tall pillars and graceful archways, elegant figures draped in Grecian robes, women and men of equal beauty. There were animals as well, leopards and white tigers, unicorns and black stallions, cats and peacocks, everything with fur as luxurious as the attire of the people. Pearls and gemstones, so many intricate details I was sure I would never even be able to see...
        The windows were still difficult to see properly, as the vines growing over them outside blocked the light, hiding many details and colors, but they seemed to show the lower levels of the garden painted above. I could make out dense ferns, rainbow-colored leaves, and a hundred kinds of flowers, orchids and others I couldn't hope to name, all cast in the most brilliant colors I'd ever seen... at least, I was pretty sure that was the case. I knew there had to be as many layers of grime on these windows as on all the others, and they were shaded by leaves, so I could only imagine just how vibrant they would be if cleaned and cleared. There were tall pillars set on either side of each window, I realized, and arches stretching over them, all painted (or sculpted in something that was) a warm gold.
        I don't think I blinked for a solid five minutes.
        Eventually, I took a long breath and shook my head. I looked down at the floor, saw that it was clear apart from dust, and I sat down. I leaned back on my hands, looking up and around. This was incredible... how had a place like this been left untouched for so long? There was a gorgeous old opera house in town that had been restored maybe a couple of decades ago, and pretty as it was, the craftsmanship of it was nothing compared to this. And that was like a public landmark, a bragging point for the town. And all the time, this had been hiding, forgotten, in the middle of the freaking woods!
        I managed to drag my eyes down to floor-level, now that I was sitting there. I could see, in front of me and up to the left, the doorway that led out to the little side porch I'd walked on the week before, where I'd taken the nice picture of the chairs and the vines behind. Oh God, where was I even going to start with pictures in this room??? I pushed the thought aside, letting myself just drink in the place for now. To the left of the doorway, tucked into a corner, was a raised dais, maybe a foot or so above the rest of the floor. I was puzzled at this, until I realized there were a few music stands (of the same intricate ironwork as everything else) pushed up against the wall. A bandstand! Well, orchestra-stand, more likely.
        The main expanse of the floor was empty, to provide as much space for dancing as possible, but there were plush-looking chairs and sofas scattered along the walls here and there, mostly in small clusters of four or five. Small tables of dark wood and marble tops stood near some of the chairs. Down at the far end, to my right, was the biggest fireplace I'd ever seen, or even heard of. Marble, again, with a fancy iron grate, which matched the ironwork tracing up the walls. Set on top of the mantle were huge sculptures, one a man, one a woman, clad only in wind-blown drapery, in graceful poses like ballet dancers, but looking toward each other longingly, reaching out toward each other's hands. I wondered vaguely how on earth I'd get a good angle to take photos of them, they looked like they might be life-sized, but I had a hunch the top of the mantle was going to be way above my head.
        The wall beside me, to the right, had more chairs and loveseats scattered along its length, with a smaller doorway down at the far end, bracketed by pillars like the ones I had come in through, only with a gold arch over it---
        I leaned my head back to look behind me. There was a gold arch over my doorway, too, I just hadn't seen it. Then my eyes went wide, and I turned to look toward the one area I hadn't looked at yet, the space that had been at my left when I entered, across from the door to the patio. Those stairs had been leading to a balcony! Maybe more like a box seat, like those in opera houses, there were immense burgundy curtains that hung from the ceiling all the way down to enclose the sides of the balcony. They were open at the front, though, so I could see the gorgeous gold railings, decorated with more vines and leaves, that ran around the box. I couldn't see much more from here, but it looked like there might be stairs that went even farther up from there - maybe those went to that overgrown balcony, out on the roof? I'd have to investigate.

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.