The Prince of Almond Manor

by Gregory Jonathan Scott

  The mirror man placed a finger in front of his own lips, signaling Oakland to stop talking. “It’s all right. Your father and I know everything about you—even the thought in your head this very moment. Sadly, much of this world isn’t ready for somebody like you, however, like everything, in time, this world will come around. Until then, you are its stepping stone. Mind you, this journey won’t be cakes and cookies, but trust that love will find a way.”

  The mirror man walked around Oakland’s backside and positioned both hands on his tensing shoulders. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper, “I come from your father’s spirit, as a guide to help you find your soul mate. In this box, you’ll have what you need, and outside, there’s a horse and carriage standing by. Now… it’s time to be the prince your father knows you to be.”

  “But…” Oakland started.

  “No buts. You must believe,” the mirror man interrupted. “Open the box. You must hurry. There’s no time to waste.”

  “How will I know I’ve met my soul mate?” Oakland asked.

  “You’ll know. Just believe. Now hurry. I can do many magical things, but I can’t stop time.”

  Doubtful of the mirror man’s comment, Oakland sluggishly released the hold he had on the chair and stood. He gently secured his grip to both sides of the tattered box and lifted. There was a sudden odor of mildew as soon as the cover cleared the box bottom, followed by glistening smoke swirling above the opening box. Then, as if the wind had shifted, roses and cinnamon sticks emanated from the mist in front of them.

  Oakland had begun to relax as if the magic dust coming from the box was a comfort potion. He was mesmerized, unable to pull his gaze away—relaxing even more. At that moment, Oakland hadn’t realized the mirror man let go of his shoulders, but as the mystical fog evaporated, he saw his father’s image facing him on the other side of the table all over again. It had to have been his angel. His guardian. Or what the mirror man referred to as, his fairy godfather.

  Oakland stood quietly while peering into the tattered box, where which he’d found the most spectacular bundle of fabrics he’d ever seen in his entire life. He wasn’t used to such fine quality dress wear, only the wooly work clothes he’d worn day after day. He held his hand above it as if sensing heat, feeling as though he should only look and refrain from touching.

  “Go ahead, take hold of it,” the mirror man whispered with a smile. “It’s yours for the evening. It will bring you good luck, and the one soul who is supposed to notice you, will.”

  Reaching into its ragged home, Oakland carefully lifted the brilliant gown as though it would disintegrate if handled too roughly. The first piece appeared to be a blouse made of pure white silk, tailored with rich gold thread and the front placket had two double-breasted rows of silver buttons from bottom to top. It had a large wide collar that would stand high and crisp along his jawline with a bow-like scarf to tie around his neck. The double layered cuffs on the long sleeved shirt were fastened together with two silver links. He thought the blouse was too brilliant and he wouldn’t feel worthy enough wearing an item so stunning.

  “It’s yours, Oakland. Put it on.” The mirror man’s voice sounded different. Like a father’s voice. Perhaps his own father’s voice.

  Afraid he’d tarnish its beauty, Oakland held back a few moments before continuing. Anxiously, but carefully, he removed his nightshirt and put the silk blouse on. The fit couldn’t have been more perfect. It was made for him.

  The mirror man first helped Oakland button it up before neatly tying the bow-tie around his neck.

  Oakland reached for the item that had been folded under the shirt, gently removing and putting the shin length trousers on. They were also of the same fine white silk only woven heavier than the blouse. He carefully fastened the front flap by the silver buttons at each hip. Seeing the look on the mirror man’s face had told Oakland he was doing fine.

  “Dashing,” said the fairy man. “Keep going. There’s more.” He pointed.

  Oakland reached into the box again and pulled out a lightweight auburn overcoat that looked as though it would reach below his knees. He ran his finger along the gold stitching lining the lapel and then circled the rims of each gold button that had reflected sparks of light around the room.

  Oakland’s personal fairy godfather assisted him with putting the coat on, fitting it in place just right. He’d left the coat open in the middle to allow the shirt and trousers beneath to remain visible, fastening it all in place with the wide leather belt channeled through the large square buckle crafted of brilliant silver.

  There was another item of clothing inside the box as if the bottom of it was never ending. But before Oakland had taken hold of whatever it was, the mirror man removed a heavy silver necklace from around his own neck and transferred it to Oakland’s. It hung graciously against his chest with an emerald Fleur-De-Lis pendant resting in front of his heart. Unsure if the mirror man had known, but the green gemstone was Oakland’s favorite.

  The mirror man steadily stepped backward and motioned for Oakland to retrieve the final article of clothing from the box.

  Inside he discovered a vanilla brocade cloak edged in short white fur that might have been mink or angora. Oakland wasn’t quite sure what it was, but attractive all the same. When draped over his shoulders, it seemed to have broadened his stature by about ten or more inches. He felt masculine, and if he were able to wed a man, that would certainly be his garment of choice.

  The mirror man handed him knee high stockings of white silk. Oakland hadn’t noticed before, but the footwear the godfather had on were made of tanned vanilla leather and fastened with bold silver buckles that coordinated with the belt already fixed around his waist.

  The mirror man slipped off the shoes and handed them to Oakland, telling him they were his to wear. Once more, the fit was perfect.

  “What about you?” Oakland asked while he slipped his feet into the comfortable shoes.

  “Don’t worry about me, I’m always prepared.” The fairy’s feet were magically covered in chocolate brown slippers with a gold threaded Fleur-De-Lis emblem embroidered on the topside vamp.

  “Where did those come from?” Oakland stared, finding truth in all the mystical events going on around him.

  Where was he? Dreamland? Perhaps really Dead? Was he in fairytale land or someplace of the like?

  Oakland wanted to see how he looked with all the new clothing on, but there was no looking glass or reflective surface nearby for him to gaze into.

  The mirror man spun a white gold ring over his knuckle and had taken it off. “One more polished item to refine your ensemble.” He held up the jewelry piece he removed from his finger. “Take this ring. Together with the necklace around your neck, you and your soul mate will remain protected.”

  Oakland held out his left hand and the mirror man slipped the ring onto Oakland’s marriage finger where it fit best, and seemed as though it belonged there. He gripped the medallion and held his fist tightly against his chest. A deluge of emotion had broken free and Oakland’s eyes glazed over. He could feel an endearing soul moving closer to his. It was at that moment he’d begun to believe.

  “I know you’re not able to see what I see in front of me, but understand when I tell you this. You look striking and your true love will know who you are when you walk into the room.” The mirror man opened his arms and wrapped them around Oakland’s shoulders, hugging him.

  “Thank you for seeing what I don’t.” Oakland hugged back.

  “Time to go.” Stepping away from Oakland at full arm’s length, the mirror man swung his left hand toward the door, opening up a pathway for Oakland to follow. “Your carriage waits outside that door.”

  At first Oakland thought a carriage was a bit much since he could walk to the Manor in a few long strides, but the idea of a horse drawn buggy delivering him to the doorstep of the Prince’s palace would be another magical moment for that evening’s fairy tale.

  When Oakland stepped
up to the open carriage, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a puddle on the ground. It wasn’t clear, but he stopped to gaze anyway, taking a peek at what the mirror man had seen. The man had spoken the truth. He found himself unexpectedly striking, and the reflective glimpse had increased the inner confidence he needed to enter the mansions front doors alone. Even though his self-reliance had improved in a short period of time, his nerves were still sputtering from anxiety of the unknown.

  The mirror man opened the side door to the carriage that had given Oakland passage to step inside. Within moments of closing the door, the carriage rolled away.

  Chapter 9

  Based on what had been going on outside the Manor, commotion had to have been stirring inside. The village people were filing in like an army of ants marching food to the colonies nest at its center. The line started from the carriage parkway outside, continued up the stairway to the entry and flowed down the staircase on the inside. It looked to be a slow moving line that didn’t seem to be going anywhere very fast.

  The general society had all been greeted by formal servants on entry, and was acknowledged once again by more servants when they reached the massive lobby at the bottom of the grand mahogany staircase. Beyond that, everybody flowed into the great hall at the main interior point.

  As with any extravagant gala, the Royal’s remained out of sight until everyone had arrived.

  A picture of subtle purity was visible on the main floor. The young intact maidens appeared hopeful at being the Prince’s one and only choice. They’d come to the event puffed and overdressed, hardly able to move or breathe in their cheeky ball gowns.

  The grand hall had started out with a chill, but the increasing bodies filling the room were letting off a heat source that would keep the place warm if not on the verge of burning up.

  The downside to a full room of people was the many different floral mixed with corn starch odors—the smell had swirled everywhere, leaving the halls clean air nearly nonexistent.

  All the starchy powders were intended to disguise the odors coming from the women as their pasty bodies beneath all the fabulous layers had begun to heat up their lady parts, releasing vapors some men found appealing if not arousing.

  Just about every female carried a fan, assisting them at keeping cool or to hide their true gluttonous smile from the prince.

  Finally, the dark of the night had crept in, and the way it appeared, everybody had already arrived. The stairway was now empty except for a few single men perched against the stair rail waiting to snag any unwanted stray that Deklan found too unsettling to take as his wife.

  Sir Wattsworth had left the grand hall and confronted Dante in the master wing, informing him all guests had arrived. The intention was to initiate the family’s relaxed position to join the event without further delay.

  The mellowing stringed musical instruments were indication the honored guests might be on their way in. It was formal and verge imperial.

  All the milling within the great room had come to a standstill and attention turned to the entry at the back of the room. Everybody waited quietly as if the nations President was about to make an appearance.

  Scattered whispers, as well as bashful giggles from excited young ladies in waiting had circulated the room.

  Insatiable parents shoved their children in front of the young groom to be—their way of forcing his future bride into the available lineup. Clouds of odor absorbing powders wafted from the maiden’s skirts when haggish mothers pushed their spoiled daughters into any existing spaces.

  It was an offensive display to watch parents prostituting their children in exchange for wealth.

  As soon as the honored family entered the hall, the quartet had begun playing music at a more pleasing volume.

  Guests graciously moved to the outer edges of the room, vacating the center space that allowed Deklan and his parents to easily find their way to the head table at the end of the grand hall. On the way, Deklan greeted almost everyone of interest, his pursed lipped expression indicating no lady had captured his eye. He repeatedly bowed his head and said good evening, keeping his hands clasped tightly behind his back the entire time.

  The tinkling music had become more and more droning as time ticked on. It seemed to be the same racketeering noise that continued on and on and on. The ticky, ticky, ticky of the harpsicord and plucky stringed instruments all sounded as though the same song had been played over and over.

  From all the twirling on the dance floor, Deklan’s feet had gotten sore and his stomach felt sickly. He found it senseless to mingle with all the ladies he truly wasn’t interested in. He was wearing out quickly, and was sure a match for him wasn’t present within that hall. The evening had turned out to be a disappointment and he felt it was going to regress downward unless a miracle walked through the front doors and down that magnificent staircase. He was certain of what he wanted and he knew it wasn’t any of the selected maidens.

  Throughout the evening, Deklan cordially danced with every available lady. Fat ones, skinny ones, even ones with feminine hygiene issues that had him holding his breath nearly half the night. He wanted to die. He wanted to run away.

  Chapter 10

  Oakland was doing pretty well with the situation transpiring in front of him until the door to the carriage opened, calling invitation to make an exit. Reality punched him in the gut and it all had become very real. His nerves had gone back to lurching inside him and he started to feel nauseous. He thought his skin tone had turned a light shade of green, close to being in ruins.

  Outside the carriage door, the mirror man had been waiting. He’d given Oakland a few more bits of advice while lending his hand to help him out.

  The front stairway turned out to be more massive than Oakland thought they’d be. When his foot met the third step, he turned around to give the mirror man a final sendoff, only to discover he’d already gone away. As if by magic, the carriage, the horse, and the fairy man had disappeared into thin air.

  Oakland suddenly felt alone again and sensed as though he’d stepped deeper into that dream world he thought he was having. He’d gone on believing it was a fantasy all over again.

  How could anything come and go so quickly unless it was a figment of his imagination?

  His way to bring himself comfort, Oakland reached for the necklace and held it with the hand that wore the silver ring. It was worth a shot since the mirror man convinced him they held some sort of magic. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t felt it himself, but when the two had been brought together, they vibrated and shimmered as he’d been told.

  “O-oh, this is happening,” he warbled, wondering if he’d gone a little crazy. Everything he’d witnessed that evening so far had been out of this world. Anybody in their sane mind would have thought it was all nonsense and they’d somehow been mixed up in a sort of dream-like fantasy.

  He proceeded up the grand stairway as the mirror man had intended him to do, feeling the pit of his stomach going through bouts of somersaults with every step he’d taken. He had no doubt why that was—hoping to connect with the person he’d been thinking of while pleading that the surrounding magic wouldn’t alter the person he was and turn him toward what others understood companionship was supposed to be—all about the boy and the girl. That wasn’t who he was born to be and deep down, not even magic could change his life’s purpose regarding who he was to love.

  He knew himself who he’d like to meet inside, however, hadn’t had any inkling as to whom that was truly going to be. Oakland had been told there’d be a sign upon their meeting, but who really knew that for sure. Certainly not a necklace and a ring.

  He looked up into the thin traces of light between the double doors while he climbed the stairway of mystery and magic. The closer he’d gotten to the entry, the easier it was for him to hear what was going on inside. He mostly heard the resonance of a four stringed quartet and the reverberating clatter of a harpsichord—an instrument he hadn’t ever cared for.
He was able to identify that brain drilling sound anywhere. If played badly or when that high pitched key had been struck, his eardrums would vibrate and nearly bleed. It was not one of his favorite instruments and Oakland could most certainly do without that noisemaker.

  What seemed like more than a mile up a rocky hillside, Oakland finally reached the top of the stairway. In front of him were two massive French style doors that had been left slightly ajar at the center—between them, a soft golden light shone through.

  At that instant, Oakland knew he was at the right place at the right time and should enter as if he was initially invited by scribbles on a parchment letter. Much like the one he found outside the kitchen door clinging to his cheek. Maybe that note was for him. Put there by magic. Meant for him to find. Whatever the case might have been, he was where he was supposed to be that day and that piece of paper might have been the initial nudge he needed to set a plan in motion.

  Behind those large wooden doors along with that stifling music, he heard several voices muttering no-nonsense babble that demonstrated tales of fiction to get what they wanted and probably hadn’t deserved. Even though he couldn’t see inside, he knew there were imitation smiles put together with the chatter, all of which displayed acts of misrepresentation that would snag the man who held the wealth and fame.

  Unsure of the outcome on the other side, Oakland stood a minute before entering. What ticked as only a few short moments felt like stalling eternity.

  After inhaling deeply, courage had built inside him. He held his breath, took a step forward, and slipped through the opening between the two large doors, the yellow glow instantly feeling like fire.