3/3/10

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ROSE RED, ITS LOGOS, ITS CHARACTERS, ITS IDEAS NOR ITS CONCEPT. THEY BELONG TO STEPHEN KING. (Lol. I put "they belong to Rose Red". Ahaha.)

.....

I stumbled from the room, sweating and shaking. A near encounter with Ellen Rimbauer, the deceased Ellen Rimbauer, had made me a bit on edge, but I'm sure you understand. Since her disappearance in 1950, I supposed she had been trailing the halls of her house and cursing her long everlasting life promised to her by Madame Stravinski and Rose Red. Living longer than her family and friends. From her daughter April and son Adam, to husband John and friend Tina Coleman. She had been alone for her life and the servants had called her crazy. And she was.

As I pushed on through the halls, turning every which way until I was utterly confused, I finally met up with the door I had longed to see. The doors that lead to the top of the Grand Staircase. Just as I was to push them open I heard a creaking behind me. I turned around, slowly at first. In a rush, white French doors appeared in front of me, wind blowing fiercely as they approached. I stood in silence, staring at the glass and wood doors.

I could see the other side, and it wasn't the hall. It was a view of the ocean, a bright and shining ocean framed by fields of dark grass and colors of flowers. Red, purple, yellow, orange. I stepped forward, beckoned by some unknown force. As I reached out to open the door, it clicked and swung, opening by itself. I felt the rush of warm wind on my face and I instantly felt hot. My cold sweat had changed into a hot one, one created by the conditions of this place. I stepped out onto the cool brown tile patio, leaning against the black wrought-iron railing. Three stories up, I was. I could see all of this magnificent island. The bright, light blue sky above me, few white clouds and the sound of the waves splashing on the white sandy beaches. I could smell all of the plants and the salt in the air.

I then heard the soft sigh of someone. I turned to see the figure of Ellen, her hair tousled, in a nightgown. She stood in the doorway of the villa, her eyes trained past me out towards the ocean. Sweat ran down her face, sticking her dark hair to her forehead and cheeks. I heard her murmur something. It took a long time for it to reach my ears, but I understood it.

"Greece," she sighed, leaning against the doorframe. Her gown blew in the breeze, "Crete ... "

It was as if she had heard my thoughts and answered them. Where were we? And she knew it. But she didn't look at me, though I was standing right in front of her and blocking her view. Just as she stood and began to turn around someone appeared behind her, slipping their hands around her to her stomach. His face began to take shape, forming into a familiar person. Much older than his bride, this man was a business tycoon famously known throughout the world. Even in Greece.

John. John Rimbauer.

As he murmured something, his hands began to sink down to the hem of her gown. I felt as if I were spying. Why did Rose Red want me to see this? What malicious even took place here?

I turned away, my gaze back towards the ocean view as I heard Ellen and John talk. I closed my eyes, feeling the warm wind turn cold against my skin. As I opened my eyes I could see the hallway stretch out in front of me. I turned around. The doors were gone. Both the French doors and the one leading out to the first floor. As were Ellen and John. And Greece. I was back in Rose Red. I stepped forward, my feet feeling heavy but my head feeling light.

I felt like I was floating. Floating above the ground, down the hall and to my destination, which, apparently, wasn't towards the front of the house. I carried myself, or rather, was carried, through the halls until I met up with another door. This one seemed quite small compared to all the others. It only came up to my forehead and was about two feet wide. Kneeling down I grabbed onto the glass doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open. I could see the inside of the room as the door swung open lightly.

The inside of the room was white, grey and pink. Stripes and flowered wallpaper along half of the wall, the top of it bordered with dark red wood trim. The rest of the walls were painted white. A tiny square window sat straight across from me on the white part of the wall. I crawled into the room on my hands and knees, feeling much l like Alice in Wonderland.

As I passed through the door, I heard the echoing of doors slamming shut. Just as I had entered the room, I turned around to see doors on the hall end of the hall slamming closed. Had they been there? Had they been opened? I reached out to leave. Before I could, my fingers just inches out of reach of the door, it slammed closed. I felt the breeze hit my face. I stared blankly at the wooden door, its handle moving in a circle. I heard it lock.

I heard no one more doors closing. I heard nothing. Inhaled I let out a high scream, trying to gain attention. I called for help, I pounded on the walls. Standing, I began to frantically get out of the tiny, and empty, room. Where was I? I rushed to the window and peeled back the lace curtains and pulled up the white blinders. I squinted into the sun, looking out. I saw a tree branch, sprigs of leaves pulling out from the bough. I panted, feeling my heartrate elevate. I was scared. Where was I?

I saw more trees beyond this one, so close to the window. I banged on the window. It rattled and shook but did not open or shatter. I slammed my fist on the white windowsill. It creaked but did not break. I let out another scream.

"Help me!"

Suddenly the room grew colder. I exhaled, fogging up the air and the glass. I heard the step-step-stepping of shoes on the ground. They continued for a while. Impossible, I thought as they grew louder, there was no room in here to move around. But I felt the cold chill of their breath on my back. Heard them sigh and murmur something silently. I turned around to see the tall figure of a woman. Her eyes large, wide. A bright red bandana over her head, covering her hair. Her dark skin glistened in the light pouring from the window. She stepped forward, her gown and apron brushing against the ground. Her eyes seemed to stare past me, just as Ellen's had.

I stood like a statue, holding my breath. I didn't swallow or even blink as she approached, walking by me to the window. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping she didn't take me to the other side with John and April. No. Not John. He was dead. The others weren't. Ellen had disappeared just as Laura and Mrs. Fauxmanteur and April. I wasn't sure about Sukeena though. Had she disappeared in anguish of her missing friend?

As she walked over to the window, her face turned to me. I didn't see it, but I felt it. I felt the urge to open my eyes and turn my head. As I did so, she smiled. Her lips parted, showing straight, white teeth. She began to speak in a foreign language. African, I assumed. Kenyan? Was that a language?

The words I didn't know separately, but as they reached my ears I understood them as I had when Ellen spoke in silence.

"Welcome to Rose Red, dear. Do you plan to stay?"