SIRENS-series of short stories PART 23 FIVE
The rain begins to heavily descend and it sounds like five little fingers gently knocking at the windowpane. We have been waiting patiently, silently but no one has arrived yet. Oh wait! Look there! Here enters our guest.
The wooden door creaks like an old rocking chair. Water rolls off our guest and slips through the cracks of the wooden floor. I quickly move near to shut the creaking door. "Come in! Come in I say, may I take your coat?" He looks up with disgust and he looks down appalled. He arrogantly turns away and begins to look around resolved.
Our guest slighted me? No, no it couldn't be. "Follow me this way!" He follows me even though there is no reciprocal greeting, down the winding stairwell this lovely evening. I gladly begin to give him a tour, for when he hears of how well we have taken care of this place, he can't ignore.
"You must see that the stairwell has character as we turn about every bend and curve. It is covered in a rustic bronze and ivory as it rightly deserves. I know you are not one into much conversation, but I assure you that you will be filled with elation from my tour! I will take you to the wine cellar first to quench your thirst, for every scent is overwhelmingly robust; it bursts!"
As I lower my hand in the direction of the magnificent cellar and lift proudly my head, our guest moves towards the secluded library instead. I quickly make haste to appease our guest, but he has already entered and is meeting Abigail. "Abigail this is our guest. Please show him around. He is not into much conversation, so quietly follow and show him the grounds."
I stand at the entrance of the door, hurt because I was ignored. I look over again and see Abigail gracefully glide as if on a cloud. She is not boisterous. She is not loud. She may be able to win over our silent guest! "See look now, he is taking off his coat and vest." Abigail watches this stranger with an equal amount of curious intensity and lighthearted zest, which is her usual propensity.
She thinks to herself, what could he be looking for?
He turns another corner and heads through the narrow corridor. It leads up to the balcony where an old traveler's journals lay. She softy, swiftly scurries staring sweetly at our guest, leaving a trail of her scent, cinnamon, vanilla, and lemon zest.
Abigail is always making robust teas, so she moves to the kitchen and breaks off a few mint leaves. She presses them in a cup along with a little sage, vanilla beans, and thyme, as if she crushes in a mortar. Abigail adds a little honey and pours in the hot water.
She slowly sensually moves with the aromatic cup in hand, and places it on a wooden table behind where our guest stands. He surprisingly lifts his set eyes from the journal he is reading, and with his hand, saves his page to finish later this evening.
Abigail quietly hunches her shoulders, slides back, and hides like a slave. The therapeutic aroma draws our guest so much that he drops the book on the desk! He looks around and sees the cup of tea steaming hot. He did not see or spot who brought the tea, but nods thankfully to the nothingness in the barren room.
Abigail's heart leaps and she knocks over a dusty broom! He sharply turns to look but no one is there! Abigail quickly runs through the corridor, and her gown catches on the stairs.
As I wait anxiously for our guest at the door. I see Abigail struggle and intense emotion soars! Will our guest leave if he is not pleased? Oh, what can we do now so that he is appeased? Our guest grabs the old journal and sips the steeping tea. Abigail's heart beats faster as she hears him come near. She closes her eyes tightly and stands still.
A shadow appears at the door of the corridor, and begins to move down the stairs. He turns back around and leaves his book and tea on the banister. One foot at a time curiously moves down the stairs. Abigail is almost in tears, but slowly opens her eyes.
Face to face...
Mouth to mouth they stand...
Abigail exhales deeply and our guest is surrounded by her zest, vanilla, and cinnamon. He deeply inhales to take it all in. Abigail lifts into his breath and her gown rips! I intensely watch to see how this will go. Oh, I can't believe my eyes!
This stranger whispers as he bends over and begins to sink. "This aroma smells like the lovely tea from which I do drink."
Abigail is trapped and intertwined in this man's arms and legs, and presses up against his thighs to try to get away. She doesn't know what to make of it, but she doesn't despise it either. Interlaced on the steps was a sight to be seen! This old scamp is unruly and obscene. I am appalled, how could he do this? I move into the library to interrupt his bliss.
"Sir, you must be going now!" I scream up the stairs. Our guest ignored me once again, but this time I wasn't having it, he must listen! "Abigail get up!" "Pierre, he won't let me go! It's as if I am yoked to his soul!" This distasteful guest finally stands dazed as if in a trance. He picks up his lukewarm cup of tea, spills it, and shakes it off of the journal.
"How can I give a tour in these conditions?!" "Go on! Go on with your bloody tour!" Abigail screams. I shamefully hang my head, and thoughts wildly race through my mind. "Follow me this way to the wine cellar, sir!" I said with disdain! Our guest now stands dazed but bright-eyed as we near the wine cellar. I unlock the cellar and drop the key back into my pocket. "This way, follow me!" I say under my breath as I grit my teeth!
"To your left are all of the aged wines as you can smell from the aromas, aren't they divine?" What is this? Again? Pierre whispers to himself enraged. "This way sir, why do you stop?!" This stubborn stranger opens the journal to a certain page, blows the dust off of the shelves of wine, and reads through their dates.
"1743.
1758.
1776.
1783.
1791.
1803! My great grandfather wasn't a lunatic! It does exist! Tyne, you have found it tonight!"
As this lunatic praised himself for his discovery. I give Abigail an ole' familiar look, and then quietly leave, as Tyne reads his bloody book. I call for Vladimir at the entrance of the gate, and I tell him what is to be our fate. Vladimir calls for Audrey in the kitchen, and I Pierre go look for Gretchen. Tyne laughs and dances about, and Abigail becomes dizzy, and deeply breathes in and out.
We all enter the wine cellar, so I lock and secure the door, drop the key in my pocket, and slam the door closed! Tyne panics! "Wait! I must get out!" He opens the old diary and quickly turns the pages, he intensely reads for hours! Finally, he stops! Confused, he reads again.
"Men can never truly leave this house?!"
He screams in shock and disbelief.
"That is preposterous! I must get out!"
Tyne reads on and mumbles gibberish to himself. "What?! How?! This isn't the mouth of hell!" Tyne cynically thinks aloud. "I will get out and let this discovery be known!"
Tyne begins reading quickly again...
Abigail feels weak, faint, and her body topples over. Tyne reads the words from the old journal... "People may call me senile and absurd, but there was one who drew me in! Don't drink of her steeping tea, because you will be yoked to her, indeed." Tyne throws down the book and violently vomits!
Abigail digs her nails into his chest, pulls her dizzy body into him, and exposes her breasts. As vomit shoots out of Tyne's mouth, she kisses him and lets it cover her body. Tyne is weak! She opens his mouth and sticks in her tongue... It is like honey, vanilla, and rum! Tyne drunkenly reaches for the old journal. Gretchen kicks it away and stoops down to look! She pushes Abigail aside and Tyne's chest intensely bleeds!
It is wet, dark and grim... Pierre vengefully smiles! Gretchen begins to sing and out from her mouth crawls hands, and they wildly scratch Tyne! Gretchen leans in to lick his chest, and blood and vomit drip down her tresses! Abigail joins in as well, and it feels like the pit of hell. Pleasures and temptations no longer entertain, but go against Tyne's will and torment his brain. Gretchen sings again and putrid heads pop out of her mouth and ravenously bite his legs and arms! Tyne's body shakes as he has violent fits!
When he thinks it's over, it has only begun. Gretchen sings! Abigail's smell lingers! Then Audrey appears, greater than any fear Tyne has ever had! "Look what we are feeding on!" Gretchen happily screams! Audrey stands in the distance, listens to Gretchen sing, and breathes in Abigail's aroma. She crawls into Tyne's mind and latches onto his soul.
Audrey haunts and torments, and the startling sights he sees cause the violent fits to return. As he lies covered in vomit and blood on the floor, he now sees everything he could only sense before. Tyne wails and deeply drinks from the goblets of great pleasure and grave agony! Pierre and Vladimir finally come over and remove their sisters that clasp and grasp.
Tyne is painted in a red river of depravity, shame, and despair. He trembles and twitches because he is tainted by this ole' discovery. Pierre opens the wine from 1809... "See how aged this wine is Tyne, smell how robust it is too. Hear how it pours... ...touch it to your lips! Now taste... Taste!" Pierre forces Tyne to drink and Vladimir holds down Tyne's arms with great strength!
The rain heavily descends and it sounds like five heavy fists aggressively beating on the windowpane. The wooden door creaks like an old rocking chair. Water rolls off black heels and slips through the cracks of the wooden floor. She quickly shuts the creaking door. "Tyne..." She softly yet firmly calls. This new guest glides down the stairwell and her fingers slide over the rustic bronze and ivory.
She comes to the end of the steps and sees the library. This stranger peeks her head in and looks all around, but she is distracted by yelling coming from underground. She follows the corridor that leads to the wine cellar; she leans her ears against the door. Gretchen hears footsteps and whispers to Vladimir. He lets go of Tyne and moves towards the cellar door. Pierre continues to torture Tyne and doesn't care that Vladimir has left. "May I help you!" he says in the corridor's darkness. She doesn't hear him, but she feels his presence.
Vladimir grabs her arm, she feels a touch, and she gently places her hand on his strong arm. He melts but stays composed. She moves closer to whatever has grabbed her and presses against him, but he still stands firm and grim. This intruder whispers... "What could be this strong? What could be this steady? It must be touch...
It must be touch!" Vladimir sinks into her skin, never to be seen again.
She moves quickly towards the cellar to listen, and now three sisters stand in the corridor. Abigail, Audrey, and Gretchen deeply despise this unfamiliar guest! They try to torture her in the ways they know best. Gretchen attempts to capture her in a trance with her haunting voice.
Abigail conjures up from the deep, chamomile, oregano, and rosemary to lull her to sleep. Audrey stands at a distance and looks into her soul. The unfamiliar guest begins to whisper, "My name is Isabella and I can sense who the three of you are. Jeeringly familiar, you are sight, smell, and hearing!" Isabella opens her mouth and inhaled the sisters.
Quickly she runs to the cellar door! Tyne is intoxicated from the wine from 1809. Pierre loathes Tyne and drags him deep within the wine cellar, and misses that Tyne snatches the diary. Outside the wine cellar, Isabella twists the bronze doorknob, and tries to get in. "Touch, Hear, Smell, and See... Hmm... ...taste!"
Pierre is so preoccupied, Tyne is able to secretly tuck the old tea-stained journal into his pants. He leaves Tyne in a dark wet corridor and goes back for another bottle of wine. Isabella leans against the wine cellar and hears rattling bottles and starts to sing. She sings all of the right words that conjure...
"Another guest has arrived!" Pierre wipes the sweat and dust off of his clothes and brows, and unlocks the cellar. "Who is there, would you care to come in? Come in! Come into my beautiful wine cellar!" Her black heels glisten as she slowly steps in, one foot at a time.
Hanging wine glasses float from the ceiling shelves and land on the table. Isabella breathes deeply and tries not to panic. Pierre pours wine into each glass and waits. She swirls the wine and listens to it hit the sides of the glass. Isabella looks at it's color and lifts it at last. She smells its robust aroma and remarks how full it smells.
Letting it touch her lips first, she tastes the wine...
"Awe! How wonderful its sound as it swirls in the glass. How grand it smells and how bright its color. Oh how it feels when it touches my lips..." She arouses Pierre and he leans in and waits... "What of the taste?" Pierre becomes frustrated that she won't finish what she was going to say. "Yes, yes and the taste?! "You can tell me better than I can tell you, because you are taste! Cheers! I drink to you!"
Pierre suddenly finds himself swirling in Isabella's wineglass as she lifts it to her lips! Isabella quickly runs through the wet cold cellar. She hears someone shake and make aching sounds in the darkness. A door creaks open in the depths of the cellar...
"Tyne!" Tyne is afraid because it is the first time he has heard an audible voice since he entered the dreadful house.
A gray door marked room 1803 slowly creaks open, and black heels and the tapping of rosary beads walk into this secluded room. "Tyne, how are you today?" He stares out of the asylum's window on the 33rd floor. Tyne's raging memories spin in his mind and gibberish rushes out of his mouth!
"Mouth of men...
Mouth of house...
Mouth of hell...
Never, never...
Mouths, mouths...
Men..."
Isabella firmly interrupts, "Okay Tyne, I understand, but we need to move you to a different room!"
"Men...
Never, never...
Out...
Out!
Out!
Men...
Men can never... never...
...truly leave this... this... ...house!"
"Tyne, we need to move you to room 1809, do you understand?" Tyne stares out the window and secretly tucks an old tea-stained journal into his pants.
Isabella injects Tyne with a needle so there is no resistance; she calls Pierre and Vladimir for assistance. Gretchen and Abigail come in to clean room 1803, and change the sheets. The warden Audrey smirks as if she knows a secret... The rain stops descending and five streaks can be seen across the windowpane until Abigail wipes it away.
Sean wakes unable to breathe! Petrified, he sits up utterly confused by this nightmare. He knows Isabella is helping Rebekah, but begins to question everything about her, because it was peculiar how she suddenly just arrived unexpectedly! He even wonders if Tyne and this journal really exist! Sean's fears are like sirens and he believes he is also beginning to go mad!
TO BE CONTINUED...