Mrs. Vanilla Scorpio had just arrived in Crimson Moon Valley. She had her large blue suitcase in her left hand and she carried a rather small purse in her right. Her face structure was not that extensive but her chin was a little long with a noticeable black mole on it. Her eyes were sharp, sea green irises, with nose a little blunt. Her long hair was tied with a floral ribbon in a dark brown bun. She wore a thin black veil above her forehead and a sea green glass talisman on her neck. One couldn't say she was an ethereal beauty but she was beguiling, with pearl white skin and thick brown eyebrows. She started unpacking her things. What was there? Clothes? Winter wears, scarfs, capes? I never asked what a black bird totem (made of Rhododendron wood) was doing in there. But then again it was something that she always kept. Some weirdly pleasant incense sticks stacked near a glass vial (thin and cork stopper wish bottle) and a rather vintage looking gothic lantern with cobwebs stucked on the outer glass of it. She was rearranging her belongings. The room was cold, walls dampened from the downpour five days ago and sunbeams hadn't welcomed Crimson Valley with its grace till now. The horizon—grey, gathered with dark clouds here and there as if they were mourning someone's death. She lighted the lantern seconds ago. Now her hands were easily working on the dusts from the casement windows which were closed for one and half years. The curtains were drawn. She cleaned the bed at last.
Her husband bit the dust in sleep. Six months back when they were on a sojourn. Since then Mrs. Scorpio had changed a little. Well, she was insolent and misanthropic before but now she didn't seem to mind anything. She had grown cold and taciturn...quite the opposite from that day of the beginning. There was a time when she was irascible and vicious. She used to scold her husband and little kids—those who loved to banter and play pranks on her. She used to be so less in control. But now she'd just smile. An odd unbearably pleasing smile. She kept her lips closed most of her time and only opened them when it was necessary. She seldom went outside. Some evening she'd disappear somewhere and come back an hour later.
Her husband tied the knot only two years ago. Nobody knew about her parentage or her origins. Mr. Arthur shut the eccentric bizarre tattlers whoever asked arbitrary questions at any time of the day, that she lost her parents when she was young and she was from Asia. But nobody attempted to investigate how much of that held even ten percent of the truth.
Nevertheless she was about to prepare the supper as it was nine already. A chilled winter night. Olivia Conington, her step daughter (previous daughter of Arthur and his late wife) was a young peach complexioned lady. And she loved her father as much as... But who could've altered the fate? Though most fateful things are rumored to be done by Fate. Olivia was mentally devastated when she came back in town. She couldn't come in time as she was sent to study abroad. No one sent her the message. By the time she returned, it was clean as a spring day. She went back to finish her study and Mrs. Scorpio left that house for a year and few months.
Arthur was a wealthy business man. He nominated more than half of his property to his first and only daughter Olivia. Mr. Conington had a vintage taste. He preferred Victorian stuffs. He gifted me a Victorian doll. Couldn't say I liked it but I didn't burn it down. He had this hobby of buying vintage manors in different places and antique items as well. This house in Crimson Moon Valley was among them. From all of his possessions he loved this house the most. He sold most of his other houses a year earlier. He wanted me to have this house cause I also owned this vintage taste. Even though I shouldn't have. Olivia detested old bearings so she didn't paid attention to this house. She was beautiful, youthful and modern lady. She was a cheerful and happy girl. She came back here to spend few weeks cause according to her, she got bored in those busy colorful cities.
Miss Scorpio wanted her to get married. Twenty six was enough at this time. But she never got a male partner nor she was ever seen with any male companion which was unusual. She had some friends but none of them were men. Vanilla looked tired but she mostly maintained her usual self—quiet and cold. Her long nails were shining red—she painted them in that day maybe. She served the dinner. The lantern was low, so she put more oil to it.
They were eating in morbid silence when Vanilla ushered the matter again. "I have got news for you and this is perhaps the most reasonable and good news for you" she said.
"What is it again Vanilla?" she asked. My eyes were fixed on the orange blue flame that was quivering inside the cylindrical glass.
"It's Vanille, Olivia" she made the correction of her wrong utterance.
Yes it was Vanille indeed and yet everyone preferred Vanilla. I preferred Vanilla also. Vanille? So inconveniently tiresome!
Vanilla continued, "Mrs. Larson's son Ricardo, he's returned. He inherited all his father's business and now he's prepared to get settled."
She didn't look pleased but she gave her the time to finish talking.
"Mrs. Larson was looking for an elegant lady for his son. After all he's turned thirty two already and when I talked to her about you with an appealing picture of yours, she liked it immediately," she concluded.
"The hell you did! Who told you to do so?! I'm not... I do not want this now.." Olivia screamed frantically. She opened her greenish eyes and looked at Olivia—that oddly unbearable smile. She said again, "Just let him come. He sees you, you see him. Then you decide."
"I don't want..." she hissed in fury.
She looked at Olivia again, more eagerly this time as if she was hypnotizing her. "Don't be rude. Let him see you first and I hope you will like him," she finished her sentence.
Olivia nodded this time, no full answer of words. I wonder why she nodded... Up until now she was furious and then all of a sudden she agreed... As if she was under a vaguely familiar influence which was at the same time very unfamiliar to her. I was contemplating over these when she finished eating and left off to the slumber chamber. Vanilla turned the knob left and the hall turned a little dim. The fireplace induced enough warmth for the room to stand still under the frozen clouds in the icy night. I was about to sleep too but I heard a noise—like something made of glass being put on a table or floor and an irie savoury aroma built its passage through my nostrils. I never possessed the trait of curiosity. Whatever that was I never pondered over the decision of slipping out of the feathered blanket at the middle hour of a biting winter night. I heard them several more times... of water perhaps... like when someone pours water in a glass. Then I heard no more.
The next morning was foggy and even icier than the previous night. Even though I never had the privilege of perceiving the five elements of this enormous globe before, I was able to sense it now—even though it was faint. I got up with much reluctance, put the slippers on, then unlocked the door serenely so that no-one could hear. Olivia would usually lock her door—she always did as far as I could recall but the door was a bit open. I disregarded it, as I disregarded last night's noises and before that and even before...
I peeked. She was sleeping and on the other side of her room—Miss Scorpio's door was locked—I was the first to wake up. I took a little sip of the drink which was served the previous night. Then I went back to my bed chamber. I loved two very specific things—solitude and my own company. That was all. Talkative people exacerbated me. I took my journal out—a neoteric hobby of mine and I began to write.
After finishing I closed the wild mule's skin crafted journal. Then I bethought myself of having something more enthralling to possess my regard. A book, an archaic leather bound book—it had contained many intriguing facts, incidents, tales based not on spurious events and Latin poems. They were no sonnets, not long verses—they reserved four lines with empty references.
A leisurely yawn escaped my throat. My gaze fell on the clock, unintentionally. I realised I had spent two earthly hours in that book. Conversations I heard. Perhaps they were awake. I smelt a rich ambrosial whiff of meat. I closed the book and came out. Indeed food was served on the grand table. But when? Olivia was asleep still and Vanilla's door was locked. Some questions I never asked. I already had them all. I blinked then turned back. There on the threshold stood Olivia. She appeared sick, her vacant eyes digging a hole in the depth of my mind. Even yesterday she looked fine. Her peach complexioned skin looked pale—eyes baggy as if she didn't sleep at all. At that moment I wondered whether she turned into a stone statue but then she proved it wrong when she caressed her hair. Her hands were snowy white—as if she was losing blood. She turned on her heels then headed to the dining hall.
At the table Vanilla sat. Olivia took the right side of the table. When asked, Vanilla answered that she already had her breakfast. Silence hovered over the ceiling. Olivia was continuously stirring the spoon. I could clearly perceive that she lost her appetite. If I wondered what happened wrong it would not have changed a thing. Perhaps I knew what was wrong but I preferred to not speak about it. One might stamp me as a self serving creature but then again I owned no capability for emotions. I always held fascination for terrene compassions, emotions and solicitudes. I observed everything, questioned my head but when it came down to the mind, I found nothing there. No action was ever taken for the observation that was made.
Vanilla Scorpio now spoke, "Olivia, they are coming today. If you're done eating, prepare yourself. I have purchased a marvelously pleasing dress made with the finest materials of extreme delicacy."
Olivia nodded as before. I could discern she was striving to resist her aura but her mind was left puzzled. Vanilla asked me to see her through it. I led Olivia—to the half-open closet. There were they, a violet dress with a pair of brown netted long gloves and a mauve scarf. She took them out and I left her get dressed.
I stood there outside. Several minutes after she came out of the dressing room. There meters away from her stood she. Vanilla exclaimed with joy when she took in her appearance. "Magnificent! A French doll wrapped in velvet."
Indeed she appeared alluring except the sickly veins emerging from her skin. But those were concealed evenly with the white powder. A while later the door was knocked. Vanilla opened the gate. I couldn't invade into her subconscious mind. If she wanted all that she could just do it without these unnecessities. But Vanilla was a woman of plans—she always had that in her.
"Welcome Mr. Ricardo and you might be his..?"
"I'm Richa, his sister. Mother would've come too if she weren't sick. I hope you don't mind me coming along with him." Her name was Richa, his younger sister. She appeared quite vivacious.
"Certainly not. Please come inside," Vanilla made the request in a pleasing manner. She was never happy unless she had some ill seed growing inside her tactical head.
"Have a seat dear, I shall bring you a nice coffee."
She let Olivia loose for once, leaving for the kitchen to make coffee. To be fair, I did not smell any coffee. Verily I could wager she never made coffee before. She once said coffee dust gave her indisposition...and the smell of coffee made her nauseous. But I did hear some glass containers clinking and water pouring and I could smell coffee. Then how...? Well that was the question a whimsical being might ask, not Me.
Olivia sat on the settee and across her were Ricardo and Richa. Richa was talkative too. Olivia now seemed to be in her right mind. She seemed normal again. But then she realised that they came here for a reason and she nodded to that reason before, unknowingly...
She should do anything at all before she comes; just when I thought that, Ricardo brought up the question:
"Miss Olivia, you are aware that we have gathered here today, for a purpose—a purpose to be bound to you forever. Are you willing to be my..?
He couldn't even finish the question when Olivia answered, "No". Her face was now fixed at Richa—eyes only searching for something in her eyes. She now looked at Olivia and realized the meaning behind the previous stares. Richa looked at her longingly. Olivia put her hands on hers. At that moment I realised why Olivia never got herself a man.
"Do you know why I said No? Because I fancied her for a long time. And I didn't have the courage to say that...but now it's not going to be fruitful anymore. I cannot do this with you Ricardo."
She said all these in a minute without a stop and perhaps Vanilla heard a little...cause by the time she managed to get in the room her expression turned indifferent. She didn't appear shocked or changed.
Ricardo stood up, but Richa was still seated.
"I fancy you too, Olivia," Richa confessed.
I never before perceived this kind of turn of events. Vanilla clearly was not expecting that because it was practically forbidden in this timeline. But Olivia was educated enough and she had enough money to shut people down forever... Vanilla didn't say anything more. She just stood there with coffee in the tray in her hand. Yes, it was coffee...looked real enough. Whoever knew about the taste..?
"Richa, we need to leave now," Ricardo said. "If you want to say anything, say now."
"I fancy Olivia, brother and I know this is something that never officially occurred in the history but if you're afraid of Art, how can you be an Artist?"
"There's plenty of time you will get in future. We shall depart for now," he proposed.
Richa looked at her finally and I took a glance at Olivia who winked at her. She seemed joyous. Since she arrived here, she was lost. I could predict she was silently saying her, 'We shall meet again'.
I thought she could not say her inner thoughts but she did, in the end. And she did great. That moment was a victory for her. Vanilla went inside as they took their leaves.
The next few days elapsed hazily. And Olivia started seeing Richa. People around them wore suspicious glances but suddenly they stopped discussing it altogether. Perhaps she bribed them all. She had sufficient power and everyone knew her father and her as his daughter.
She was normal by day but by night she became lonely. Her demeanor became uncanny. She oneday told me, that she had a weird dream and it was an every night dream—that a lady with a needle in her hand coming at her to puncture her skin and collect her blood. I could guess where it was going. Still I did nothing... Like a stone statue I stood, heard, perceived.
She was getting thin and more pale by each day. She used to have meals during the day but at night she'd just stare at the wall looking at nothing. Her eyes were lost somewhere and perhaps she was trying to get back to her old self. She was trying very hard at that.
Vanilla now became all quiet. No questioning. Nothing about what Olivia should do now or not. She stopped noticing... Or not?
Olivia's face lost lustre...like snow. And she welcomed dark bags under her eyes. Her nails were brittle, cold and pale. She refused to talk to anybody. I couldn't say I preferred her being like that... But I remained as a stone.
Richa paid a visit yesterday and gratifyingly Olivia was not at home in that hour. She even asked me to do her the favour of not telling Olivia that she came or even the conversation between us should remain closed. She asked if I noticed anything eye-catching or suspicious lately...or any changes particularly visible in Olivia; "Cause when we meet," Richa said, "Olivia listens attentively and answers to what I asked her but nothing more of herself or how life's going on... She stays, exchange kisses and goes back home."
Accordingly Olivia didn't seem to be in her right mind and she was losing memories slowly.
Richa had disdain in her voice like she was suffering too by her sudden change in behaviours. "I should have told her—it's better if she leaves this house..." Concluded Richa.
But the trouble was not this house—not even this place. I could have warned her but again I never felt like it.
Then one Monday, she looked pale as always but perhaps her mind was in the right place, as she asked me something which made me realise that she's not sunk in contamination yet.
She asked me, "Aynat, do you think I'm changing? Like my manners or something that I should be worried about..?"
I could have told her everything that she should have known but I never did that. I never helped those whimsical beings without a reasonable fair. I preferred staying away from them, cause they felt something around me. Perhaps it's their ill intuition or it's all hoax.
I got myself a whimsical being once. A male child. Well those beings call it Friend—someone to talk or play. Oneday he stole my precious ruby that somehow fell out of my ring. He even tried to hide it. How outrageous! I stared at him...long. He ran away dropping the ruby. The next evening he befriended demise. He got fever and never woke up from the bed.
Where was I? Oh right, Olivia asked me that, and I answered that there was nothing for her to worry about. She only needed to have proper rest. That night Mrs. Scorpio left dinner table early. And Olivia...well she took her supper to her room.
I was reading that book again...in solitude in the corner chamber. The light was medium but it was still winter time so cold walls and chilled floors were inevitable. I heard a whispering voice. Then upon hearing it closely I realised it was Olivia—she was talking to someone. But at this hour who could that be?
I got up. Usually I'm not one of those curious creature but today was different. Before dinner was served, I saw Vanilla—sitting in front of that black bird totem, in her room. The lantern was high and the flame orange red. At the right side of that bird, she poured a dark liquid in the glass vial. It was faintly lighted from here and everything looked dim yet I could perceive the color of the liquid...red, like the flame of the lantern.
She opened an old box of hers. I always wondered the things that could be there—inside the box. I stood behind the door which was a little cracked and I was peeking all this time. A few dried leaves, a black substance perhaps something dust like—she poured it all in the red liquid glass vial then stirred with her index. I was quite obsessed with that crimson liquor that I didn't discern early, the intriguing thing—those eyes of that black bird (wooden totem, 10 inch height, 5 inch width, all black) seemed to become alive, as if it moved. I couldn't say that I disliked black bird, in sooth I loved black birds. Vanilla loved it so dearly. I glanced at the clock and went to the dining hall. This was what happened earlier.
I didn't know where Olivia was then. As for now, she was whispering to someone in her room. Who could that be?
Not Richa, not Vanilla.... this was something unusual. Though nothing was ever usual for me. Unusual things are something that I have known forever. I thought of checking and tiptoed towards her room. Well surprisingly the door was locked from inside today, so I tried to peek from under it.
The room was faintly lighted even though I could see things clearly. No there was no one, she was sleeping fine. So what had I heard?
There I smelled that hypnotizing pleasant smell that was coming from Olivia's room. Suddenly the lantern flame became high and red... Now things were quite visible than earlier. If I wanted, I could open and so did I. I pushed the door, quietly. Where was Vanilla Scorpio then? Sleeping? Were those whispers even Olivia's...? Perhaps it was Vanilla..?
The clock was ticking 12.7 of midnight. The red flame was hypnotizing. I stared at it for quite a few elementary minutes and didn't notice anything for that moment. I jolted myself and walked slowly towards her bed where she was sleeping. Her nails white and skin frozen... her hands nearly became ice... way too cold. Her breathing was so low one could say that she was still as a frozen figurine.
Then a line, a red line appeared, then another followed by several more—inside the glass of the vintage lantern...red lines crawling, now getting thicker and bolder. The more the lines were growing, the more white she became. Those lines were moving as if someone's sliding water—like brine, being collected in the bottle. Like that red bold dark slithery lines being moved, collected inside the lantern.
Her eyelids were faded, frozen as a frost-bitten rose. The lantern came back to its previous state. The red flame was orange-blue at once and that intense divine fragrance was gone. I thought I needed to do something... Perhaps? But I went back to my chamber again to complete the unnecessary slumber. Was Vanilla still slumbering?
The next morning, a little sunbeam entered through window shade. I received a peek of life. The book was open...I forgot to put it back. I decided to lie down a little more but it was already eight of the morn. Hearing commotion in the down—I came outside... and everything went silent.
They asked me aplenty questions and I refused to answer any of those...as they were fully aware of my taciturn silent nature. But Vanilla answered most of them. Everyone gathered. I went back inside my chamber. I loathed human presence.
Inside in that chamber, she wasn't laid there anymore. Some incense were burning leaving ashes beneath. None of them were as divine as the ones I inhaled the previous night or the other nights.
Arthur's plans totally went down the drain. Vanilla... she looked grim enough to hold the tears in her lower lids.
Two weeks had elapsed. Everything got cleansed. As a sky after a downpour. Vanilla Scorpio... No. Let me say it correct for once... Vanille Scorpio. Yes... she got everything... As she had always gotten. She did what she had in nature. I thought fondness... Though I am not aware what it is, existed between them. But I was incorrect.
She was the victorious...so to say. I couldn't say I was capable of having the urge to feel emotions. Yet I didn't feel victorious enough for her—like one who got victory through shameless tactics. No ounce of pride at all. All this time, all the years, I could have done something if I wanted to but I didn't. I wasn't a puppet nor I was an obedient servitor. I was an observer, a thinker and a silent bearer. I perhaps never wanted to do anything... Why? How could I, when she was the one who summoned for my aid?
The black bird totem appeared normal again and it was located on the grand carved oak table, now. She lighted three incense sticks near it a while ago. It smelled like sandalwood, not as fragranced as those of that night but well enough to carry through the nostrils.
When Richa received the letter, she was devastated. The day after she arrived to pay me a visit then she left the town. No-one questioned anyone about anything as if they were dazed or they just decided to mind their own business instead of gossiping or spreading rumours. The sky became gloomy again and it might rain soon.