Her parents were dead and she had
never met her new family. He aunt and uncle had reluctantly accepted to take
her in upon hearing she had been orphaned, but her mother had not talked to her
sister and brother-in-law for many years. Arica had heard stories of them, how
they had made their fortune breeding and raising horses, while her own family
had struggled to make a living in the muddy soil of their farm.
“Annette,”
her mother would say with revulsion, “never cared much for others. She probably
keeps her husband on a shorter rein than a willful filly. Don’t expect her to
help us out when we need it most.”
And
yet, Arica now found herself depending on them for more help than she had ever
expected. They sent a carriage to fetch her from the train station early that
morning, and she had been travelling for half the day. As the sky started to
darken, she shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable with the gentle
rocking of the carriage.
Arica
opened her eyes to find herself in a wide clearing, standing upon an old stump slimy
with age. Movement caught her attention and she looked up. The sky appeared to
be boiling with fire, the flames sluggishly twisting and rolling around each
other. As she watched, the flames died down and began to retreat to one side of
the sky, until they had set like the sun. With them went the light, until a new
one sprang up to her left. It revealed a pale face, devoid of all details
except two black eyes that seemed to move separately from the swaying of the
figure. Arica screamed and stepped back, making her foot slip off the edge of
the stump. She hit the ground hard, then scrambled back until her back hit the
wood. Another light appeared across the clearing, with the same hauntingly
empty face. More and more lights blinked into existence until Arica was
surrounded by the ghostly creatures. They swayed as if in a breeze, but
otherwise didn’t move, until one of them stepped forward and bent down to look
closer at Arica. She shivered and started to close her eyes, because she
noticed this one was different. It had long silvery hair, and raised a hand to
pull at its face. It came off like a mask, and underneath was the face of her
mother, swollen with death and with the same black eyes as all the others. She
opened her blue lips, and a low wail came out. The mask dropped from her hands
as she raised her arm to point behind her, into the darkness of the surrounding
forest.
Arica
woke up with the image still in mind and a sheen of sweat on her brow. She
could almost see his mother pointing in the direction the carriage was taking
her now. From the widow she could see her new home.
The
carriage stopped outside the house just as the sun disappeared behind it. Upon
the front steps stood a couple; a bird-like woman and a pudgy man, both dressed
as if preparing to attend a formal event. As she climbed from the carriage,
Arica looked down at her simple blue dress. It was stained with mud from
working on the farm only days ago, and the fabric was fraying around the hem
and elbows. Even her golden hair dimmed in comparison to the necklace of gold
and diamonds her aunt wore around her thin neck.
“So,
you are my niece.” The woman even sounded like a bird with her shrill voice.
Arica
politely nodded as she approached the couple. “Yes, I’m Claire’s daughter.”
“I
can see her in you. You both have that… naive look.” Annette scowled before
turning to lead the way into the house, with Arica tailing after. Behind them a
couple servants grabbed Arica’s belongings to haul it up to her room.
Inside
the house, a grand marble staircase curved up toward the second floor. The
servants brushed past her to bring the trunks up them, but Arica paused to
admire the luxury. A crystal chandelier hung almost low enough for one to be
able to reach out and touch it from the stairs.
“Stop
ogling the light fixture, girl,” Annette snapped.
When
Arica turned to face her, she thought she saw a white figure standing to her
side for just a moment. The figure vanished so quickly that Arica was convinced
it was just a play of lights, but more movement in the doorway behind her aunt
made her doubt. She was told it was an old house; perhaps it could be true what
people said about ghosts.
“I’m
sorry, I’m just, uh… tired,” Arica replied distractedly as she tilted her head
slightly, trying to see into the room where the figure had appeared. A disapproving
look from Annette brought Arica’s attention back to the woman. “Can I go to my
room now?”
“May I,” Annette corrected her. “It’s the
second door to the right of the landing.” She gestured toward the stairs as she
turned to enter the room where the figure had been.
That
night Arica found herself in the same clearing as before, this time standing at
the edge. Upon the stump sat the figure with her mother’s face, the mask in her
hand. When she saw Arica, she placed the mask back on and stood up.
“Arica.”
Its voice sounded like the wind. “You must find it. Do not let her have it.”
“Ma?
What do you mean? Who are you talking about?” Arica stepped forward, but the
figure glided back, keeping the same distance between them.
“She
has forsaken half her bloodline. Only you can find it. Do not let her have it,”
it continued as it drifted farther away
“Ma!
What do I have to find?” Arica cried and began to run after it. As soon as she
was within reach, it vanished. “Why are you leaving me alone again?” she
whispered.
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