Little Lotte
Little Lotte
Prelude: Of times passed
A resounding crack echoed down the halls of the auction house, soon followed by polite applause and a man yelling out the description of the next item. The auction house was filled decently with people wanting a piece of memory, or just looking into collectors items they could later sell for four times the amount they bought it for.
On one side of the hall was an old man in a wheelchair, a young nurse standing beside him, her hands tucked neatly behind her as she waited for the time to come when the old man would ask her to take him home. It was ritual for the old man to come to the auction house everyday, watching, waiting for an item in particular to show. The young nurse didn't know what the old man was waiting for, but waited ever patiently, bringing him to the auction house everyday, from noon until the auction closed. She was usually rewarded by the old man for her patience. Once more, the old man sat in his chair, gazing up with dark emerald eyes, staring blankly as he waited.
On the opposite wall was an elderly woman. Her hair was silver, though there were traces of once auburn tresses. A shawl was wrapped delicately around her shoulders, and she stood alone. She had been coming to the auction house as long as the man had been, and they always acknowledged one another, as though they had met before, though they never said a word.
The auctioneer cleared his throat before speaking in the microphone once more. "Lot #566—An ebony, porcelain mask found in the basement of the old theatre on 5th street, valued at 500, in near mint condition." A young man held out the mask on a silk pillow. Both the old man and old woman's eyes widened at the mask before they looked at each other, their eyes locking briefly. "The bidding will begin at 500. Do I hear 500?" The old man gestured to his nurse, who raised her hand. "500-do I hear 10?" The old woman raised her hand, glancing at the man. "10! 15, sir? 15! 20? No? 15-going once, going twice--" He slammed his gavel on the podium, gesturing to the old man. "Sold for 15,000 to the gentleman here."
The Youngman with the mask walked over to the old man, holding the pillow out to the man so he could get a better look at his prize. The elder's dark eyes brightened for a moment, taking the pillow with trembling hands. The young nurse kneeled down to get a look at her charge's prize. "Quite beautiful," she said, marveling at her reflection in the old artifact. "You have wonderful taste, Mister Jeevas." She gave a sideways glance at the old man. "Is this what you have been waiting for, sir?"
He nodded slowly, his eyes seemingly alert as they darted over every detail of the mask. "…it's exactly as he said," he whispered to himself. "Every…every line, curve and scratch…exactly where he said…"
"So you finally got it."
The old man looked up as the elderly woman walked over. She smiled softly at him, and smiled back. "Just as Near said, isn't it?"
"Precisely." The man looked back into the abyss of the mask. "We're you waiting for it as well, Linda?"
"TO see if he had been speaking truth, or simply rambling," she explained. "He did begin to go mad in his last few years, after all." Linda smiled as she gazed off into the distance. "So, Matthew. Will I be seeing you around the auction block again any time soon?"
"I suppose not," the man said with a sigh as his nurse began to wheel him out. "I have received what I have been looking for for so long." He smiled back. "Goodbye Linda. Until we meet again."
"In the big theatre, where Near and others are waiting."