I stood at the edge of the woods, a five minutes to midnight, and stared in at the dilapidated building. The familiar house was supposed to be barely visible in the dark, but the moon was shining uncharacteristically bright, and the flashlight he had brought had a huge bulb. I pulled out my cell and shoved my sleeve up to see the digits that Elizabeta had scrawled on my arm hours earlier. I quickly saved it as a contact before calling, hearing the phone ring thrice before the pick up.
"Hello?"
"So I'm here."
A miffed sort of giggle came over the receiver as she said, "Oh, so I don't get a hello, Gilbert?"
"Hello Liz," I responded, a grin spreading across my face. "You're acting like you weren't waiting by the phone, bored to death because you weren't talking to the awesome me."
"So familiar already, Gilly dear?" She teased, and I felt heat creep into my face.
"Anyway, I'm at the house," I diverted.
"Aw, and here I thought maybe you were calling to ask me about that dinner date. Poo." She fake pouted.
"Well, how about tomorrow night then?" The question was out of my mouth before I had time to think about it. She was just so light-hearted on the phone, so I thought that I might have a chance. It was strange for me to completely focused on just one girl like that, but she mattered in a way that no other did.
One part of me wanted to drag her to my apartment and lock her there. No one but me would be able to meet this beauty, this goddess that now occupied my thoughts. No one could treat her well, but me, and we could be together forever. Another part wanted to shout and laugh and run with her in open fields. To present her to the world and explain every single thing about this girl that I barely knew, everything that I loved. Yet another part wanted to tease her and make her cry. To see beautiful crystalline tears run down her face, or the more probable outcome of her teasing and yelling back at me.
"Th-the dinner date?" She queried.
"What else? I did say that I was going to call a pretty girl on campus and ask her to dinner, didn't I?"
"And I said that I'd only agree if I was the first you would call. So, am I the first?"
"Who else would I call? You're the only girl whose awesomeness is anywhere close to mine." In my mind though, I knew that she outranked me, and she was the only girl to ever do that.
"Yes, I'll go out with you, Gil." As she said that, my grin widened further. Then she changed subjects, "So, you're at the house?"
"Yeah, I figured I'd call you first."
"Go on in! I wanna hear about the inside tomorrow! Or your failure, which will be just as interesting," Liz jested.
"Oi! Shut it, I'm not gonna fail. Awesomeness doesn't fail. It's a fact."
"Whatever. See you tomorrow, Gil!"
"See ya!" I called into the phone before clicking the "end call" button. Stuffing the phone into my pocket, I took my first steps toward the woods.
The forest was surprisingly easy to get through since there were vines and thorns clinging to everything. I clawed my way to the door and pushed hard on the wooden entrance, barely making it budge enough for me to squeeze through. Once inside, I began coughing at the incredibly stuffy, dusty air. Everything, even the ivy and vines that had somehow crept in, was covered in filth. Everything looked like it had just suddenly been left there, like everyone who had ever occupied the building had suddenly dropped everything and left.
Walking down the hall, I felt like someone was watching me. I heard faint footsteps, like those of a child, yet lighter. My own steps felt clumsy and loud in my ears, but that was only because of the high ceilings that made every sound echo across the building. The hallways were long and mainly empty, but dried roots and vines clung to the baseboard.
I opened one of the doors and found myself in a study. One wall was just bookshelves filled with thousands of volumes. The desk was parallel to the shelves, and above the desk was a portrait of a man. The man looked just like me in every single way, down to his pale skin, platinum blonde hair, and scarlet eyes. He was dressed in clothes from a very long time ago, so I guessed he must have been the master.
Several papers still littered the desk, although they were caked with dust. I brushed it away until I could read the fragile paper underneath. It was a letter, and it looked something like this:
July 27, 1723
Dearest Elizabeta,
I fear this may be the last time I may send you a letter. My health is woeful and fading fast. The doctors came again the day before last, trying various futile treatments. I know I shall die soon, there is no doubt in my mind. However my family and friends insist on lying about it, whether for me, or for themselves. I know you do not want to hear it, just like the others. But you must hear this, you must get it through your thick skull that I am sick, and there's simply no getting better.
Consumption has no cure. It is so simple. I am never getting better, and I lost that hope as soon as I received the diagnosis. I know that this place will be disinfected and deserted as soon as I am dead, so it is not like I wish to linger here.
My cough has worsened since you last saw me. Blood now comes with almost every cough, which has led me to rewriting this letter seven times already. The fatigue keeps me from convincing the nurse to wheel me into my study on most occasions, so I am mainly confined to my bed. I weigh 22 1/2 kilograms less than before, and I have not eaten anything in a week. I fear my appetite will not return, which must surprise you since I seem to remember you comparing me to a sink hole, a pig, and anyone who lives in the British Colonies.
My sleep has been hard to come by recently. My coughing keeps me up often, but there is also the night sweats and chills. The two paired together leave a lasting impression. Sadly, whilst the pain in my chest keeps me awake, I have too much time to think of my life before this building. Thinking too much hurts me more than this dreaded disease. Being in this quarantine, away from you and my other friends hurts most.
I feel like a sap writing this, Lizzie. I do not enjoy being so incredibly different from how I used to be. I wish I could act like before, but this has made me change in so many ways. It's made me want to tell you so much that I never did before. So I decided I would briefly tell you all I could.
When my parents announced my engagement to Michelle, I was disappointed. Michelle is a nice girl, but she is not for me and never would have been. We would have been the worst match in the history of our world! So, on the day of my wedding, I was secretly happy when I collapsed at the altar, though I would not have admitted it to anyone. I did not, and still do not wish to be married to someone I do not love when I die. I would rather be a bachelor, or married to someone whom I do love. Like you, Elizabeta.
I have been in love with you since we met, and I never once got the chance to tell you. Even after that time in the glass garden, when everything happened so fast. My mind has been on this for so long, whether or not to tell you, and I decided that this would be the best way to tell you. I am not going to last much longer anyway, so I might as well get this out of the way. Now I can die with an easy conscience.
If you are going to tell me that you see me as only a friend, as I believe you will, please do not respond. It's not that I want to end our friendship, but I wish to preserve what we were. I do not want to lay on my death-bed lamenting over my unrequited love.
Love, Gilbert
I stared down at the completed letter, my fingers trembling slightly. I could just imagine Elizabeta, my Elizabeta, in an 18th century dress. She would be fussy, and would hate being confined like that, I could feel it. She would wear it though, just as she must. Backing away from the desk, I left the room. My unease was suddenly enhanced to fear when I heard giggling behind me.
I turned quickly, in time to see a pair of short, possibly a foot high, humanoid figures retreating down the hall. They were running like Olympic sprinters. The figures were glowing white and their heads were too big for their bodies, just like an American novelty. Not knowing why, I took off after them. Several turns later, I glimpsed them slipping through the tall door, not doorway, at the end of a long hall.
I pried the door open warily, grunting from exertion. After slipping inside, I allowed myself to look around carefully. A large canopy bed with navy curtains that matched those on the window stood opposite to the fireplace. A wardrobe was next to the window, one of the doors was ajar.
A taller figure, about an inch or two taller than me and with proper proportions, stood with it's hands clasped behind it's back and turned so it was facing the window. It was standing by the mantle, by a nonexistent fire. The two smaller figures were sitting in the chairs that sat adjacent to the fireplace, and they weren't alone. Thirty or so of the smaller figures sat on the ground by the larger's feet.
The taller figure turned slowly to me as all of the shorter ones stood. The shorter ones began to dance and jump up and down in a rhythm. I wasn't sure if it was their jumping, or the beating of my heart that was making the loud, steady noise in my ears. The tall figure giggled eerily before rushing at me.
Everything went white before it went black, and in the darkness I heard a hoarse whisper of a voice say, "Remember." Then I was unconscious.
