Preface:
In the West Wing of Collinwood, there was a strange, unfamiliar portrait hanging in the gloom that longed to be looked upon again. A single portrait, that was indeed one of an unknown family member, that dared to come back amongst the other paintings from a distant time. But the history behind the portrait was rather mysterious, as was the history behind the young woman who was indeed the subject of the painting itself. But no matter how much time it had spent in the darkness, a certain member from the Collins family longed to discover the truth beneath the rose that was painted angelicly on the canvas from years most unfathomable from before the breaking of Collinwood.
Chapter One: The West Wing
Ben Stokes had been having a particular fuss about his master's request from the night before, and still continued it on to himself as he took a lantern in hand as well as a box of matches. Ben slid the box open, got a match and lit the lantern. Bringing the small stick up to his lips, he blew it out with a swift heavy breath. Placing the matches in his pocket, he held the lantern out in front of him. The flame grew brightly, and it shed a little light on the walls of the emptiness of Collinwood as he continued forward. "I've already been here so many times today already," Ben mumbled to himself, his voice barely hearable. Shadows followed behind him, and the gloom slowly disappeared every step he took closer to the door of the West Wing. But as he continued down the empty hall, Ben felt a disturbing prescence eying him down. Shivers ran down his spine, then he heard a tap or two from within the hollowed walls. Ben looked directly at the wall, and a grave thought ran through his mind. Bloody hell, what kind of trick is this? How I hate walking through this place at night! Ben thought. Ben knew that there was no reason to believe that that wretched lady that adored his master was back. No way at all. "Ben, come here; come. Enter the Wing and you will follow my voice still. Follow my voice, Ben," a voice whispered in the eerie darkness. The voice repeated the command only once, hypnotizing Ben as he drew closer to the greatly-detailed wooden door. But the voice that echoed to Ben was not the witch's, for it was a different voice that began to haunt him. "Ben, come here. Come here, and if you do as I ask, I shall let you live. I do hope you understand." Silenced, Ben opened the door and entered the antique and heirloom-filled corridor that was shadowed completely by the broken night. Shattered glass crunched underneath Ben's feet as he neared the voice. The strange voice continued taunting him, and then it echoed a new command. "Ben, come over to where the bay window creaks open, and hold the lantern in front of you to the wall where the lost portraits hang and you will find me." Ben continued past the long mirrors, through the old antiques carefully, and then he arrived at the bay window. The curtins were blowing wildly as the midnight air blew in with cold intensites, and then the bay window doors creaked back and forth slowly. The chilling sensation of fright then ran down Ben's spine. Cackling screamed at Ben's ears, and soon he heard that same voice yet again. Oh no, it's like her evil! It's like her, Ben thought. "Ben, hold up the lantern immediately!" Ben did as the voice asked, and upon the wall, the portrait of a beautiful woman with a hauntingly beautiful pair of eyes stared at him with judging eyes. "At last, Ben, you have found me. What a good servant you are. Now, listen to the singing voice of my soul and begin your ascent into a deep sleep." "No, I did what you asked, now let me go!" Ben pleaded, falling to his knees as quickly after her demand ceased. But no matter how hard Ben tried to resist, the beautiful voice got the best of him:
"I find her lying in fields of a sweet innocence of the heart
Watching her pluck petals of the red rose in the light
Her smile would make any cruelty to fasten and depart
And I remember her mostly as she laughs in the twilight
Her happiness brings joy and sweetness to a broken love
And she dances and sings with passion as she swiftly heals
She is like a white magic disguised as a perfect, little dove
And from you in a mystifying love, your heart she does steal
In the dead of night, she'll bring to the world an undying bliss
Just as she revives your heart with a perfect safety and care
She could bring you back to life with a tiny, sweet kiss
Almost making you wish she would forever be there
As the dawn comes, she'll hold onto you until the long end
Protecting you from all things evil that dwell within harm
She'll save you as she becomes your newest, caring friend
And to the end, she'll love you forever as you're arm in arm."
Ben felt shaky, and he dropped the lantern. The glass from the lantern broke, and the flame engulfed the old carpet. The burning smell of thread became a strong stench to Ben, and with the smell of that, he fainted and dozed off to sleep. But the painting on the wall had a different approach entirely. And out of the nowhere, a pair of barefeet stepped onto the floor before Ben, and a strange kind of magic was used to trap Ben in a fiery circle. The laughing continued on after the long silence was broken, and the voice became more distinctively human the moment the woman from the portrait kneeled before the flames. Her hand reached through the burning heat, and she gently swiped a piece of Ben's hair off of his thick forehead. "Ah, Ben. I do think I am going to like it here very, very much," the voice whispered, laughing gently. In the esscence of the shady and firelit darkness, the beautiful woman's spirit fled the West Wing, leaving Ben alone and unconsicous, and fled the cold, stone foundations of Collinwood itself to be with the darkness she longed loved until the moment would come when she and her lost love would be reunited again.