Chapter One:
The year was 1699, and Salem was a healing town. Families all around were short members. Fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters had all fallen to the accusations. The witch trials had taken place all around the world, but everyone was left hurt or missing someone.
Catherine sat there in her nightdress, her knees together and feet apart on the top most step of the back porch of the shabby cottage home. She was a teenage angel with long platinum blond hair that ghosted the small of her back and bright green eyes that shined brighter then the brightest of emeralds. As a child, even though her parents were taken at a young age to their deaths during the trials, she was known as one of the most innocent girls in her town. That night, the waxing moon shown bright on the black canvas of the night sky as the green eyes watched the moon with attentiveness; gray clouds threatened to devour the moon, though inevitably they always did.
As she watched, no true thoughts passed through her mind, just beauty of the stars, the moon in the sky, and the ever-present darkness all around.
As the gray clouds slowly covered the sliver moon, her grandmother called for her company in the kitchen. She walked slowly as the translucent nightdress softly caressed her baby-soft skinned body.
On entering the kitchen doorway, her grandmother stood at the sink and washed the supper dishes. The room was fairly small, but it served its purpose.
"Yes Grandma'ma?" Catherine asked as she slowly walked closer to her mother's mother, the woman who has been her guardian since she was only eight years of age.
"Dear, why are you so blue? You have been quiet, as if thinking deeply, and avoiding everyone in this house. Why?" the elderly woman asked sadly as she halted in her efforts of the dishes, turning to look into her granddaughter's eyes.
"Grandma'ma, I'm not sad at all. And when I am alone, I am not thinking. Just... looking." the young girl whispered, sounding somewhat detached from the moment.
"Please don't tell me this is related to the sudden talk of your mother's and father's deaths. All the words about are lies. They were not witches or vampires propositioned by the devil." Tears came to the elder woman's eyes as she spoke of her daughter and son-in-law, who were now seven years dead.
"Grandma'ma! Please! Don't upset yourself. This mood of mine, it is unrelated to the lies about my mother and father. I want to know the meaning of life!" she paused to swirl around once in the small kitchen, her hair flowing around her, her night dress swaying in the breeze she created. "The reason why we are all here and suffer the ways we do!" She suddenly became somber, tears filling her eyes. "I know my parents were not witches or vampires. They were wonderful. Nice, beautiful and caring people." Her words were full of emotion, giving the elder lady a peek into the mind of her not-so-young-anymore granddaughter.
"Ann, I know. You really have no need to tell me how my daughter was. I know she was wonderful! I raised her!" The elder woman cried of guilt for raising her voice at her only grandchild. Catherine stood before her with tears slowly falling down her cheeks as she tried to compose herself.
"I'm going to bed. Please leave me alone." Catherine sighed through her forced calm. Turning away, she walked quickly down the short corridor to her bedchamber, slamming the hollow wooden door behind her with tears in her eyes.
Cold. Alone. That was how she felt, no matter how hard her grandparents tried to reach out to her. She knew they loved her, she knew she had suitors in the town who also liked her very much. But it never made her feel any better. Running over to her bed, an almost royal looking canopy frame that held a large, full size bed, large enough for two people to sleep comfortably upon, she threw herself down upon the soft goose feather comforter that was once her parents'. All of the loneliness she felt and couldn't rid herself of no matter what, went into her tears.
Suddenly her sobs went silent. Her echoed cries died away from her chamber and she laid still, all her hearts desire concentrated on this sudden feeling.
But what was this feeling? Could someone be watching her as she lay upon her bed crying? Yes, she told herself, but this presence was not that of her grandmother's or her grandfather's, but rather a somewhat foreboding stranger that was new to her senses.
Tears began to fill her eyes once again. The black hanging curtains lay eerily unmoved in her half open window; there was no breeze to sway the fabric.
Was there really a foreboding presence lurking about the yard? Or wheat field perhaps? She continued to lay still, fearful of what could happen if she moved. Would that person or creature attack her if she moved? Could she risk it?
She lay on her bed crying silently as a breeze blew gently through the open window, the curtains swaying softly in the wind's wake. Then, as if she could recognize the other presence, she sat up on her bed and rose slowly, an empty look in her eyes.
As she walked closer to the window, she saw a shadowy figure outlined by the moonlight. He was like a beckoned figure, almost as if he were drawing her closer, making her want to crawl through the half open window and follow him through the night. Though she knew something of the manor would be reckless and never be allowed by her grandparents.
The shadowy man suddenly raised his hand to her, as if calling for her silently.
'Come to me, my dear. Join me...' was the calm, silky voice that filled the young girl's thoughts. She seemed to loose control of her conscious self and the next she realized, she was feet before him, standing in the middle of her grandparent's wheat field.
'My dear.' the man sighed, whom now Catherine could tell was a fairly tall, brown haired man who could be no older then twenty-five. It was almost like he spoke to her right through her mind, his lips never moving when he spoke. Like magic, she thought idly, and then he asked her to grab hold of his hand and walk with him into the dark forest.
After a few minutes, though felt like miles, she looked behind to their trail on the forest floor and up to where her cabin home had been, but could no longer be seen. The trees all around where large with age and close together, small bushes grew at the bases of many trees, casting spooky shadows on the forest floor when caught by the moonlight.
Catherine turned to the still silent man. "Where are we now?" she softly asked as they continued walking, now with rising difficulty. After speaking and gaining no response, she began to shiver in the summer breeze, regretting her departure. Frightened at what may happen next, she stopped walking, and he stopped in line with her, almost as if he were expecting her to stop anytime.
'What's the matter?' he asked her in his sweet, silky voice, though still without moving his lips, just as he had done the last time he had spoken in the field.
"You never move your lips when you speak to me! Who are you? Why are you bringing me out to the middle of this forest?" her eyes began to tear as she began to panic on the inside and the mysterious man simply looked at her with no apparent expression. "Are you going to kill me?" Goose flesh spread itself all over her baby soft skin.
"No." came a strangely rough voice, sounding as though it had not been used in years, but nonetheless from the mysteriously beautiful man. She was a bit shocked when he replied by speaking; though the lips did move as he spoke aloud, the top lip never seemed to reveal any teeth. "My intentions are not to kill you, but free you."
"Free me?" she asked innocently as if she were still crying on her bed, wishing to be free of her grandparent's home. But before she could clear her mind and thoughts, the man grabbed her by behind the knees and the back, holding her light body in his arms; not even without a second thought, he continued walking. "Where are we going?" She was strangely calmer now, yet the tears still stained her beautiful face as she spoke.
"To my home. You do not mind, do you?" he asked, his voice sounding rather innocent for a normal twenty-five year old. He spoke with an unknown agenda, like that of an older man, though he looked and sounded as if he had yet to end his maturing stage of life.
"Your home? You live out here?" she asked as they walked, slower now it seemed. By many trees and bushes they passed until a small cabin was visible just yards before the pair, in a circular clearing.
"Yes I do. But you're the first to know in years." he said kindly as he set the girl back down on her own bare feet and put his hand on the small rusted door handle that lead to the unknown on the other side of the door. "You don't mind not telling anybody, do you?" he asked the fair maiden as she looked into the man's eyes, almost like she were in a trance. But with this lock at which they held, Catherine was able to tell that the man had dark brown eyes, so dark they almost looked black.
The space at which they stood upon was illuminated by a flame that sat alight on it's own pedestal on the left of the door.
"Of course. But why be so secretive? Don't you wish to share your knowledge? Let everybody know about your intellect?" she asked with a shy, almost whisper that suggested she felt uncomfortable in the unknown man's presence.
He smiled at the girl's ignorance, thinking he hid from the world because of his brains. "There are so many things you don't know about me, but I must say, you shall know these secrets before too long. I have many reasons for my seclusion." he told her as he smiled a smile that showed no teeth.
"Do you believe in magical creatures?" Catherine asked after a silent moment. His eyes flashed wide as he received the question in his mind then returned to a calm position. Had she simply guessed at one of his many secrets? By all saying, anything was completely possible.
He opened the door and allowed Catherine to enter before entering himself. The room was small for a main living room, but had a cozy air as a fire burnt in the center of the room. "Magical creatures? As in unicorns and fairies?" he asked jokingly as he closed the door. Catherine kept walking until she felt the warmth of the fire in the shabby shack.
She looked around herself and at the shadowed walls that surrounded her, there seemed to be a door on each side of her. When she heard the click of the door at which she and he entered, she turned back to it to see that to the right of the door hung two hooks nailed into the wall, most likely used for hanging coats and hats among one's entrance of the shack.
"Of course not silly." She spoke in a flat toned voice, eying him with a look of carelessness. "I mean vampires and witches. Do you believe that they really exist?" she asked quietly as she sat in the seat that was offered to her by the man. In the firelight, she could now see that he seemed pale, almost as if he had been ill for weeks.
"Vampires and witches, huh?" he asked in response as he silently laughed at the irony of the situation.
He pulled up a molding, broken chair from a dark corner of the shack and set it next to that of Catherine's. Everything looks as though they have seen many years, Catherine thought.
"I must say," he pondered as he basked in the warm aura of the fire, "your question seems beyond your years. If I were you, I would not worry about anything like that."
"Mister, please don't avoid the question. Do you or do you not believe in the existence of vampires and witches?" she asked now with a bit more demand and impatience, though she still shivered as if she were alone in the woods in the middle of the winter season.
"If you put it in that form of words, then I must be honest and admit that I do in fact believe in vampires and witches." he answered the young girl's inquiry honestly as he stared deeply into the fire. "For summer, you're quite cold. Are you ill?" he asked suddenly as he turned to the girl.
While he stared interestingly at the fragile young maiden next to him, he took notice that he could clearly see her body through her nightdress.
"I'm not ill, only cold and a bit embarrassed." she whispered out as she shivered once more, and drew her knees tightly to her chest, her heels resting comfortably on the edge of the chair at which she sat upon.
The man brashly stood up, frightening Catherine just enough to make her jump, but he seemed to take no notice. He walked to the door on the opposite wall of the entrance and opened the door to reveal a large, dark room where nothing was visible.
He disappeared within the darkness for a moment before reappearing only moments later with an aged petty coat.
"Here, please put this on Catherine." he said dryly as he handed the coat to her. She slowly looked up from the fire and reached out for the coat.
She stood up and pulled it over her arms and shoulders. It was black and reeked with the stench of age, but for some reason she seemed to believe that it looked somewhat becoming on her.
"Dance with me?" he asked her as she looked herself up and down, turning around to see how the aged coat accented her fragile form.
"Huh?" she asked stupidly as she stopped moving and looking about herself to look curiously into the still-unknown man's eyes.
He reached out his hand as if formally asking. "Please allow me to have this dance?" he asked as he half bowed, never removing his eyes from her terrified eyes..
Catherine blushed heavily as she shyly reached out her hand and softly laid her fingers on the palm of the man's.
"Please don't be scared. I promise I won't hurt you. I just wish for a dance partner..." he whispered softly, almost seductively, in her ear as he placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer to his body. He then took hold of her hand and placed it upon his own shoulder. With his only free hand, he held her hand in a waltz dance position.
"Um, I hate to say, but, I'm really not all that skilled for dance." she whispered lightly as she blushed, staring downward at her bare toes.
"Just follow my lead." he softly whispered into Catherine's ear as he perfectly stepped to the dance. Her steps were off from his, but by his moves, he neither noticed nor cared.
"Th- there's no music though." she softly, but obviously stated as they slowly waltzed around the warm fire.
"We can dance to our own music, can't we?" he asked as he stopped dancing and looked deeply into Catherine's eyes; he held her tightly to his body as he attempted to understand her current thoughts, but it seemed she had none.
"It's almost morning." Catherine said suddenly after three hours of staying locked eye to eye with the man. "I should really be back in my chambers before my grandparents wake." she told him respectively, and then they parted so she could warm her hands over the fire and the man stood near the door.
After the long walk back to Catherine's cottage home, the man held her in a shockingly tight embrace. The strength he exerted made Catherine squeak, and he jumped when he heard that.
"I'm sorry! Sometimes I forget how strong I am." he apologized over zealously as he softly held her. Catherine could not help but think that he wished to not see her leave him.
"It's alright, really." she breathed as she gently rubbed her head on his chest; she still wore his long black petty coat.
"Can I come see you tomorrow night as well?" he asked like an innocent child desperate for attention.
She gently giggled before looking up into the man's eyes. "I suppose you may, but I must be frank and say I really have no idea what your name is." she told him as he reacted utterly shocked. It's almost as if he hasn't spoken or been with another person in a very long time, Catherine thought momentarily.
"I'm sorry!" he apologized happily, "I really thought I had told you my name already." he cleared his throat proudly before speaking, "My name is Ralph Crenshaw IV." He bowed respectively as if he were introducing himself to the Queen of England herself.
"Ralph Crenshaw." she whispered to herself as she slowly strolled back to her cabin home. When she made it all the way to her window, which was her point of exit, she turned around to look back at the very spot of the wheat field where Ralph Crenshaw still stood, perhaps waiting for her to enter her home.
She waved back to him unabashedly, and he waved just the same. Catherine carefully climbed back through her window and looked out once more at the wheat field, just as she had done earlier that night, but there was no distant sight of the man for her eyes to behold.
Disappointedly, she turned away from the window to absorb the fair sight of her always-clean bedchamber. Her door was still bolted, her bed just the bit ruffled as she had left it, and her dresses... Her dresses?
"What?" she softly spoke aloud to herself as she carefully tiptoed to the now open closet that stood next to her clothing chest. Inside, on a finely polished wooden hanger hung a beautiful pearl embroidered gown, with a note pinned to the chest with a sewing needle.
Dearest of Angles, the note read, I bestow this royally fashioned gown upon you, for you to wear and take care of. The writing of the letter was fairly old English, with the curve at the end of every word. I please ask, she continued to read, that you wear this pearl gown to bed tomorrow night. From there, I will come to you, and request your dance in a ball tuxedo. Great evening to you and best wishes, Ralph Crenshaw. Concluded the letter with a fancy signature on the bottom.
She read the note over two more times before she set it upon her chest of drawers and withdrew the gown from the closet. The flow of the gown as she set it against her body seemed to flow like water down a stream.
Catherine spun around gracefully as she held the gown against her. Then it came to her, like water falling from a high mountain range to a low valley. This beautiful gown belonged to her.
Quickly, without thinking about one thing more, she slipped off the petty coat, throwing it softly on the floor at the foot of the bed, then slipped out of her translucent nightdress, which fell quietly to the floor at her feet. She climbed into the gown and pulled it over herself.
Latching up the back, she starred oddly at her reflection and the way it gave her a blessed, heavenly look. She noted on how the soft creamy pearl color accented her skin and facial features. The gown length reached her toes, and ghosted the floor. Her angelic blond hair whispered against the pearls on the small of her back, gracing her with an odd, immortal aura.
She spun once. Twice. Three times.
The beauty of the frill as she spun, gave her a whole new thought of the gown. This dress was, and never could have been, any ordinary piece of fabric.
A/N: Hey, sorry about the confusion with the names like that! I had to change them from their original names because I recieved an email from a reader who told me that I was playgerizing L. K. Hamilton, and after reading a few of her novels I did notice that two of my characters did indeed share names (and that was all) so I changed them to avoid a conflict of interest.
Enjoy!