Winged (Aetharian Narratives)

by Sofia Vargas

  From the outside it truly did appear to be haunted, though I was always doubtful as to whether it really was. It was old, three stories high with gargoyles at the top, and had a tall brick fence enclosing it. No one had ever seen anyone go into or come out of it. I figured it was abandoned. Kids always tried to get inside the house on dares, but to my knowledge, no one had ever gotten over the fence. I didn’t know if it was nerves or something else that had kept them from getting into the yard. I also never understood why they didn’t tear down the eyesore. I’d been fascinated with it when I was younger and had researched it in record books at the library. The house had been owned by the same family name for the past two hundred years: C. Riley.

  I watched the bare trees pass by my window. I tried not to let all the questions in my head come spewing out of my mouth. I knew everything would be explained soon enough. I just had to be patient.

  We drove up to the brick wall that enclosed the mansion and stopped. I got out of the van and stared at the wall. It seemed to stretch forever into the sky above us. There was a singular, rusted number “1” placed in an indenture in the bricks. The rotting number had been beautifully ornate and golden. I could see the remnants of a once lovely red brick wall and gold-painted gate that had welcomed visitors to a beautiful house. The road we traveled ended at a very large and now unwelcoming iron gate—a gate that shunned any visitors that had the nerve to approach. The ivy that entwined the bars hid the opening to the gate and proved that visitors had long forgotten the house and whatever happened to remain inside of it.

  Mr. Amest turned to look at Mom and me.

  “Ready?”

  We nodded our heads.

  “I’m sure she’s been waiting for this day to come,” he said.

  Mom looked at the gate again. From the look on her face I could see that she somewhat dreaded what we would find inside. That didn’t calm me in the slightest.

  She heaved a sigh and nodded her head again. “I know she has.”

  * * *

  My legs felt like they were made of jelly when I tried to make them walk. I lifted my left leg and urged it forward. When it touched the ground it wobbled under my weight and I staggered forward. The air around the old house was different from the air around the rest of town. I didn’t expect the change and it hit me as soon as I regained my balance. It was musty and full of the rust that engulfed the fence before us.

  “Over here, Emma,” Mom said.

  She and the Amests were already on the other side of the van and making their way to the edge of the driveway. Why they were headed in that direction was at the bottom of my list of questions so I followed without a word. I forced my legs to submit to my demands and walked around the van to join them.

  When I finally reached them, Mr. Amest led us into the wooded area that surrounded the house. We slowly made our way through the tight overgrowth. There was just enough room for a full grown man to squeeze around the huge trees. My mind wandered while we walked and I tripped over the many roots that littered the ground. A buzzing filled my ears and I looked around to find the source—a dragonfly zipped around my head. Its soft, flaky wing brushed my cheek while it fluttered in the air. I was surprised when it took the time to land on my shoulder. I watched it from the corner of my eye. I raised my finger to it but the movement disturbed it. It flew into the bare branches above. I watched it until I lost sight of it and bumped into something in front of me.

  “Ow,” I said, rubbing the side of my head.

  I looked around and saw that I had bumped into the back of my mother. She didn’t seem to notice our collision; her eyes remained forward. I looked around her to see that Mr. and Mrs. Amest had stopped at another gate in the wall. This one was smaller than the gate where the car was parked. However, this gate showed the true nature of the house’s past. It looked the way I imagined the front gate once had looked: beautiful and elegant. Its gold paint glistened in the winter sun. I could see that there wasn’t a lock anywhere on it.

  Mr. Amest pushed the gate. It swung open without a sound and we walked through it. I gasped at the beauty of the garden that was in front of me. There was a red brick walkway that was quite different from the red bricks that made up the wall enclosing the land. There was no sign of chipping or age among the bricks. They were perfectly in place without a single weed protruding from between them. The grass that surrounded the bricks was perfectly green and clear of the winter snow, with flowers of every color scattered everywhere. There were vines of purple clematis covering the wall and pink cherry trees in blossom lining the edge of the walkway. Inside the gate all sorts of beautiful plants glittered in the sun. I looked up and the sun was no longer the dim, winter version it had been when we arrived. It was bright yellow with vibrant rays shining on every glorious aspect of the garden.

  Birds swooped between the falling cherry blossom petals. The smell of the flowers made me smile. The perfume of the flowers and the songs of the birds pushed every other thought from my head. The sound of running water caught my attention and I looked to the right corner of the garden. There was a pond bordered with smooth black and gray rocks. In the pond were lily pads with the biggest, most beautiful white lilies growing from the middle of them. A fountain of water in the middle of the pond spouted sparkling water into the pond and frogs jumped from the lily pads into the water trying to catch butterflies in their mouths. A butterfly dodged an attack from a frog and flew away from the pond in our direction. It flew by me and I turned on the red brick, following it with my eyes.

  A cool breeze blew in and rustled through the trees. A shower of pink petals fell on us. A falling petal brushed my nose and I felt the tickle of an impending sneeze. My head flew forward when the sneeze escaped before I could stifle it. I opened my eyes again. Near my feet on the perfect brick walkway, I now saw nothing but dirt.

  “What happened to this place?” my mother said.

  I lifted my head and took a look around. I wanted to cry.

  The beautiful garden that we’d been standing in had disappeared. I fell to my knees and ran my hands over the dirt. The cherry blossoms were replaced with the bare, dead remnants of what once had been trees. I looked back at the gate and it too had changed. It was no longer golden; it was in the same disarray as the other gate. Where the perfectly green grass had been, there was no life; not so much as a weed dared to grow there. The flowers had disappeared off the vines on the walls though the most stubborn ones remained, digging deep into the wall causing it to crumble and crack. I looked to the corner where the frogs were leaping on the lily pads. Instead, there were pale colored rocks surrounding an empty hole in the ground with roots sticking out of the sides. My eyes darted around the ground. I searched for green, some sign of life. All I found were dead leaves and snow.

  “Emma, honey? Are you okay?” Mom said.

  She held out a hand to help me. I took her hand and she pulled me up.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “I just tripped.”

  “Well, we better get moving,” Mr. Amest said.

  I took a deep breath and started walking toward the house once again. I stared straight forward at it so I wouldn’t have to look at what was around me.

  * * *

  From the outside of the gates I could tell that the house was huge. However, the actual size of it didn’t compare to how it looked from a distance. It continued to grow before my eyes. Its long, tall windows only seemed to make it look bigger. The stones weren’t placed in perfect columns and rows, but each one was placed in a way that they created a masterpiece in each wall.

  That however was where the art stopped. The doors had grown old and discolored and looked like mud that wouldn’t budge if we tried to move them. The curtains in the windows looked like they were the remains of fabric left in the nest of thousands of moths. Most of them were ripped and torn in many places. Even the color was gone from them; they were pale, age-worn ghosts from the past. The windows closed them in along with everything else, nailed shut s
o that nothing could get in to bother what was left inside. It was a very depressing house to look at. I couldn’t imagine what we could possibly find inside.

  “Don’t be afraid, Emma,” Mr. Amest said.

  He watched me carefully. Even his assurance couldn’t stifle the fear that I was indeed feeling. Normally, I wasn’t easily persuaded to fear something, especially something like an old house. Everyone said it was haunted only because it seemed to be deserted. Ghosts were all people could think of that would still lurk in its dark hallways.

  It was only assumed to be abandoned because no one was ever seen near it. As unwelcoming as the house was, nothing was boarded up. There were no notices from the city posted anywhere; I always reasoned that was because the house was so far off the map. There had never been any for sale signs because in essence the house was owned.

  There was only one person who had ever been recorded as owning it. C. Riley was the only name that had been listed as owner of the house since its construction. As many times as I had been through all the books in our library researching, I had never come across the name except in the listing as the property owner of 1 Celestial Court. Since no one had ever seen anyone enter or come out of the house, I was afraid that C. Riley was dead in the kitchen. Or I would have been, that is, if I didn’t also wonder who would pay the property tax on the place if that were the case.

  I looked over at Mom. She had as much fear in her eyes as I was sure I did.

  She looked at me and gave me a quivering smile. “We have to see her, Emma. I…” her voice trailed off. There seemed to be a lot going on in her head. “I should have brought you here a long time ago.”

  “Who is she?” I said. “Why do we have to see her?”

  Mrs. Amest put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. All your questions will be answered soon.”

  Mom wrapped her arm around my shoulders and gave me a big squeeze. “I love you so much.”

  Mrs. Amest looked at her husband and nodded.

  He took a step forward and lifted the knocker on the door. After a moment’s pause he slammed it against the door three times. Mom tightened her grip at the sound of the clanging metal.

  Considering the size of the house, I was surprised that only a few moments passed before we heard the doorknob turn. The ancient wood creaked and the door was pulled open. But it was opened by the last person I expected. A teenage girl stepped out of the darkness. She looked around the group.

  She looked at the Amests and then at me.

  Her blond hair was braided and pulled up in a circle around the top of her head. She wore a long, silky, purple dress. From the looks of her, she had to be close to my age.

  “Only an Aetherian can see this house for what it is,” she said.

  I shifted on my feet uncomfortably. Her eyes didn’t leave me for a moment from the second they found me.

  “You are not one of us.”

  Mr. Amest stepped over the threshold into the house. The girl let go of the door and took a couple of steps back into the house.

  “I lifted the knocker,” he said.

  “Fine,” she said with an air of snobbishness in her voice. “But why did you bring an outsider here?”

  “She’s not an outsider,” said a new voice.

  Everyone looked away from the girl and into the shadows of the house. A much older woman was walking toward the door now. She looked to be about eighty years old, but she walked with the swiftness and speed of a person much younger. The heavy skirt of her dress swished with her movement.

  “I told you to answer the door,” she said to the girl. “I do not remember asking you to interrogate our house guests.”

  “I wasn’t interrogating them,” the girl said. “I wanted to know why they brought an outsider within the gates.”

  Even if her hair had not been pulled up into a huge bun on her head, the lady would have stood inches taller than the young girl next to her. Her thin, wrinkled lips broke into a smile when she looked at me.

  “Like I said,” she said, “she is not an outsider.”

  The girl looked me up and down with a sneer on her face. “Well, she certainly doesn’t look like one of us.”

  I frowned. She reminded me of Emily far more than I wanted.

  “Now, Arie, what have I told you?” the lady said. “Appearances can be deceiving. Please, come in.” She waved us into the house.

  I didn’t move when the Amests walked forward. Mom gave me a small push in the back and we entered. I stood next to Mr. Amest in the cavernous room. It was too dark to see anything inside. The girl closed the door behind us and what little light there was disappeared completely.

  “Arie, please turn on the lights,” the lady’s voice floated out of the dark.

  I heard the sound of footsteps on the stone floor and saw the outline of the girl walk to a nearby wall. She pulled a lever down. A chandelier on the ceiling lit up. Individual lamps around the room filled with light as well.

  “Well, Emma, I have been expecting your visit for a very long time now,” said the lady. “I would have expected you to have come sooner.” She looked at Mom. “Much sooner.”

  Mom looked nervous. “I’m very sorry, Celeste. I could have brought her sooner, but—”

  “It’s fine, Cordelia,” she said. “She’s here now, and that’s all that matters for the time being.”

  She walked over to Mom and gave her a hug.

  “Corinne, Arian, it’s good to see you,” she said, turning to Mr. and Mrs. Amest.

  “It’s great to see you, too, Celeste,” said Mr. Amest.

  “You’re looking well,” said Mrs. Amest.

  She leaned forward for a hug, too.

  “Yes, yes,” the lady said. “I’m getting up in years, but I’m still surviving…”

  “Where’s Viper?” the girl said, looking around the room.

  “We made him go to school today,” said Mrs. Amest. “He has some things to take care of there.”

  The lady turned around to face me again. “Emma, I’m Celeste Riley,” she held her hand out to me.

  I shook it. “Celeste Riley?” I said with a curl in my lip. I half expected everyone to start laughing. “You can’t be. That’s impossible.”

  “Oh, is it?” Ms. Riley said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes,” I said, stunned that we were even having the conversation. “I’ve looked through all the record books in our library. C. Riley would have to be…”

  “Two hundred years old, from the information you would be able to find,” she said. “But in actuality, I am much older than that.”

  I had to keep all of the muscles in my face in check to keep from smiling. “You’re … two hundred years old.”

  I didn’t know if I should be amused or extremely concerned about the situation.

  She smiled at me and looked over her shoulder. “Well, it seems that Arie has run off.”

  I hadn’t noticed that the girl wasn’t standing over by the wall anymore, but I wasn’t about to let go of the subject that easily.

  “Seriously, what do you—?”

  “I guess that means that it’s lunchtime," she said. "All of you will join us, won’t you?”

  I looked at the others. Mom put her hand on my shoulder and nodded.

  “Of course, Celeste,” Mom said. “We’d love to join you.”

  VI

  A reunion

  I am starting to hope that the earth has somehow melted away and I am simply taking hours to fall through its center. I open my eyes in an attempt to confirm my optimism when I feel something hard smash against the back of my head. The impact makes my head collide with the head in front of me. All thoughts of hope, concern, or anything else lingering in my head slip from my mind’s grasp. There are explosions of red fireworks before my eyes and I know all hope is lost.

  * * *

  “Lunch is out on the balcony on the second floor,” Ms. Riley said. “I hope you like fruit.” We made our way to a staircase on the side
of the entrance hall and walked up the stairs.

  Now that the room was filled with light I could see that the walls were covered with large tapestries. I looked at the tapestries as we walked by. Each one was about twelve feet tall and six feet wide. There were trees on them with quite a few boxes and lines. I figured they were all family trees. There had to be around eight of them in the room. We reached the second floor and walked along the balcony to a glass door. Ms. Riley pulled the door open and walked outside. I seemed to be the only one concerned with the temperature outside of the door; everyone else followed her without question.

  “This place is protected,” Ms. Riley said. “Weather is not a concern out here.”

  The surprise on my face must have been evident when I found that the temperature on the balcony was quite pleasant. The girl was already sitting at a table with a bowl in front of her. I walked to the edge and looked over the marble railing. There was a group of kids wandering around in the wooded area.

  “Can’t they see us?”

  “They could,” Ms. Riley said without looking. “But only if they knew what they were looking for.”

  I looked at her. “Pardon?”

  Ms. Riley sat down next to the girl. “If they knew that they would see a balcony with people walking around on it then, yes, they would be able to see us. If they didn’t know what to expect they would look up and simply overlook us.”

  “Ah,” I said, “okay.”

  I went to the table and sat down next to Mom. I didn’t even try to make sense of what I’d just heard and did what I could to keep the confusion off of my face. Mom passed me a bowl of fruit salad. I took the ladle and scooped some into the smaller bowl sitting in front of me. I put the bowl in the middle of the table and looked at Ms. Riley. The girl was staring at me over her slice of spiced bread.

  “I am so sorry, Emma,” Ms. Riley said, putting her spoon down. “Emmeline, this is Arabella, my niece. We call her Arie. She comes to visit me often to keep me company. I’m sorry if she was rude to you when you first arrived. She isn’t accustomed to seeing someone quite like you.”