Music Box.
It was a mild, windy Thursday in the evening. The reddish leaves fell from their home to start the breezy air of autumn. Christine would have like it if her hair wasn't that rude.
She kept touching her hair to feel any unwanted ornaments such as the cursed dry leaves; she had plucked more than 6 times. She'd complained to her father of her stubborn hair, he would tell her that curly hairs were on her mother's gene. But seeing her mama's picture was that she didn't have a wild mass like hers, he calmly said to her that mama skipped the likely gene and Grandma passed it to her.
Since then, Christine hated how DNA works.
She pushed a stray curly lock away from her eyes and settled it behind her ear, only to return after she put her hands down. Groaning in frustration, Christine gave up to finding solution of her hair trouble.
While walking, Christine seemed to enjoy kicking tiny pebbles off the sidewalk. She was smiling to herself, reminiscing of her childhood past when her papa would try to teach her how to throw a pebble onto the vast lake with grace. It always amazes her whenever the pebble bounce off the water three times before going down. Somehow, she never succeed at it, Papa had passed away too early before she could fully learn.
One of the stones she kicked was powerful enough to snap her attention. Her eyes bulged at the sudden realization that somebody could be hurt by it. She quickly act upon it by striding to its aim, it flew fast about with one way, by now she had just realize that she was strong to make that stone fly hard. Raoul would certainly tease her muscularity.
Thankfully, Christine blew out a baited breath when she clearly saw that the stone harmed no one, well, except for the side of the bricked mansion.
"Whoa," she half whispered. She was not in the part of her quaint neighborhood anymore and she trembled with energy at seeing the capacious, palatial estate stood its daunting, and hollow facade.
Few people were coming in and out, and she was very curious to whatever shindig are they at. Christine moved to the outside gates and saw the commotion is about; Antiques for Sale, Money will be a donation for the Children's hospital.
Christine nodded in agreement, what a fine cause. She definitely could see the wealthy lots as they maneuvered themselves inside with their tuxedos and shining evening dress.
And here she was with her black stockings, pencil skirt and her lucky coat shielding her blouse away. She'd turned away; she was not welcome here, only rich people like Raoul. But before she could get away, a sweet voice rung inside her ears. She looked behind and saw a girl, maybe just about her age, with beautiful straight blonde hair that nearly broke Christine's heart.
"Hello there! Where are you going? The door is here silly!" she stepped out and with elegance took Christine's wrist, "I haven't seen you around, and are you new here? I would greatly remember a pretty face like yours!" her childlike voice echoed around them.
She fought the urge to blush. She wasn't that pretty. At least she told herself. Papa would remind her not to be narcissistic like others, and she greatly respect his values.
Christine walked inside with the blonde girl leading her. Inside was a lot more beautiful.
It was different from any others, or so she thought it was different (of course she'd only seen one mansion her entire life; Raoul's family mansion) but this one, it was...-how do you name it? - Beautifully peculiar.
Then embarrassment crept up her neck when she perceived she'd been gawking, "I'm Christine, you could say I'm new here. Oh! I wasn't supposed to be here. You see, there was a pebble I'd chased and it... well, never mind, but I don't belong around these parts."
The girl's laughter filled the room and great crowds were looking at them now, and not a very good look. "YOU CHASED A PEBBLE?" Good lord, Christine's head was bowed down and the girl didn't helped at all.
A cough both turned both their heads and saw a woman with neither a scowl nor smile on her face. Christine saw the girl beside her shifted and behaved accordingly. "Meg, Shouldn't you be accompanying Mrs. Van Versdook on her purchases? A woman with her age couldn't carry the grandfather clock." the stern voice matched her high posture.
"Oh I've just welcomed a newcomer, mama!" the girl-Meg-, turned to Christine, "I've got to go! Nice to meet you by the way! Name's Meg! Maybe I'll see you around?" as fast as she can, she swiftly moved to an room. Christine noted her gracefulness. Maybe she's a dancer.
"I deeply apologize for my daughter's forward behavior. You're new here? Welcome to The Damon Mansion, I hope this is a warm welcome. Good evening and have a nice day."
"Uhm-this was a mistake. I was just looking around and I don't-"
"Belong here? Then Meg and I aren't belong here either. This is but a charitable deed, not a grand opening of some rich man's party. I don't even understand to why they're wearing their money on clothes." the disgust in her voice was evident; the woman leaned closer and whispered, "Here's this; some wealthy people only come here for recognition not the true cause. I can plainly see that you're different from them. Now off you go! Find something you like and the children will be very much happy to know that someone do care." The woman smiled at her with motherly love that she almost wanted to hug her. Christine didn't even know her name, she felt stupid for not asking.
After minutes had passed, Christine eyed so many valuables before her eyes. It varied from each of them; Mirror glasses from China, books from Rome, Trinkets from France, and Curved swords from Persia. They were all so beautiful. Artifacts like these must have been very important to their respective owners. Parting with them must have been very difficult too. Christine thought of them to be incredibly generous to sell them and for the greater cause of donating them to poor unfortunate souls.
Then there was the breathtaking paintings whose painters where from Greece. It was all very exquisite. However Christine wasn't sure to buy it. None of them seems to feel the 'right' purchase. She would've feel guilty for being picky but the prices were extremely unsettling.
The criteria of all these items are ten times worth of myself...
This is for the Children, Christine, not for your own satisfaction. She reminded herself.
Going to room after room felt like an indoor adventure, she was sure she'd been giggling for a while after receiving notorious stares.
Every room was different but their theme seems to be at one; cold and Dark.
Like the outside appearance of the mansion,
It was all too haunting, entrancing and impossibly cryptic.
But beautiful in its own way, nonetheless.
Upon arriving at the center of the mansion, Christine slightly gaped at the wide spiral staircase. She felt very foreign because of her outstanding felicity that's quite shaking her tummy just seeing the grandeur. While others visible look of nonchalance make her look like a homeless fool.
She turned her head around if someone was watching her; it appears no one really cared. Her mind wouldn't ever allowed her to step onto the solid stairs, but her heart is her curiosity, she was likely to follow it anyway. Papa always said to follow her heart.
The staircases were donned by a long bloody-red carpet. She lightly touched the shining banister, Cold. She argued with herself either it was copper or pure gold. What seemed like forever when her footings was finally on the second floor.
No one dared to stop her nor dared to venture out for her. She was glad in her little success for not attracting unwanted attention.
There was no one around and that made her heart quiver out of more curiosity when she eyed the door with an odd writings on the front. It was quite dimmed and squinting her eyes led her to spell the only word she understand; E. Damon. Designated with presumably gold, italic fonts and with mystery.
She leaned her ears on to the door and let her powers of eavesdropping to work.
She didn't hear anyone in particular. With brave hands, she twisted the doorknob to see it would open. And there it was.
She hesitated at first. This is so wrong. But the words of her papa spoke to her troubled mind; don't live a life of dullness, sometimes you must act on spontaneity, who knows? Maybe the result will be better than you've ever dreamt of.
She stepped inside, "Hello?" nothing.
She lightly touched some surroundings, she wasn't sure what it was, the room was excessively nocturne. It still not let her curiosity to drop. She couldn't grasp the light switch and instead she fiddled on her phone and the blinding light suddenly made her eyes shut. She groaned and slowly opened her eyelids and quickly putting it to 'Flashlight Mode'.
She held her phone and its light overruled some darkness, still it was dark around the corners. She found the effects pretty terrifying like the one she'd seen on some scary movies about found footage films. She scolded herself for thinking such thoughts, Ghosts aren't real.
The room was huge, not like the others. Even the word 'Huge' was underestimating it.
It visibly has some touches of lurid, gloom and velvet. She found the vermilion curtains draping majestically on the wall, she really tried to open the large windows but she soon found out that they're ultimately close. Her heels felt the comfort of the ground, she felt at fault when she realizes her pathetic 2 inch heels were stepping on some million purchase carpet.
Maybe this was the Master's bedroom?
For her eyes, the room was desolated, but surely someone had occupied this room, it was too regal to be left unnoticed.
She was too focused on some shimmering thing far from her grasp that she hadn't known the large piano in front of her. She stubbed her right feet and cursed some words (Words that'll make her dear papa to shook his head in shame), while aiding her unfortunate toe, Christine had clung on the piano's handle and one of her fingers carelessly touched a key.
The key's single tune blared the room and she abruptly searched behind her if someone had heard it.
Thankfully none had come.
Christine relieved a sigh, but seeing the large instrument made her heart jumped with excitement.
She let her fingers skimmed on the lingering feeling of the Piano keys, it was delicate and smooth to the touch. Absentmindedly, Christine played a single tune and stopped herself before she got too easily distracted, again. Her main purpose was to know the shiny object from earlier.
She followed the trail of her flashlight and found herself to the farthest corner of the room. She touched the object with curious fingers, wonderment inside her eyes. It was a monkey dressed up in fine vest, with a pair of golden cymbals held on its paws. The supposed monkey was seated on a wooden box. The designs overwhelmingly reflected Persia or countries of that sort. It was very lovely and Christine couldn't help but to rotate the handle on the side of the box.
A splendid sound was released as the monkey slowly, yet remarkably clasped the cymbals together. Christine awed in astonishment, never had an object made her this joyful, but this music box was deeply invigorating to her eyes and ears as well. After the tune comes to an end, Christine played the music box once more.
Christine hummed the tune, then words flew out from her mouth, "Lemonade,
Paper cups on the shade
Lemonade
What a taste!
Everyone is enjoying all around you."
It could be a jingle! She guffawed to how childish it was. Once more, she played it and closing her eyes, she felt the tune more allusive and somehow sad. She justified the melody by selecting the suitable words for it. Her voice rose as she solemnly sang in a slow, delicate cadence.
"Masquerade
Paper faces on parade
Masquerade
Hide your face,
So the world will never find you."
The latter lyrics are much better, if not, perfect. It adds some nostalgic melancholia meaning than the happy Lemonade bit.
She grinned more to herself. She was literally adding some serious lyrics of her own; a habit of hers whenever a melody turns her on. The perks of being a Music Teacher really pays off.
She picked up the music box and searched for any possible price tag.
"That's not for sale." She jumped from fright. She'd almost dropped the thing.
It was very dark and she couldn't see him (She was sure it was a him -the baritone voice gave away the gender) only his tall silhouette. She was ready to brought her phone up to face him, but his not-so happy tone commands her from doing so, "That won't be necessary." She could see the outline of the other side of his face that looks like a white mask.
How did he got here?
Is he the... Christine blushed in pure embarrassment, good thing there wasn't no any lights, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to snoop here and touch this. I was mostly curious, and I'm very, very, truly sorry!" she handed out the music box for him to grab. "It's really beautiful and I would have buy this if it was for sale, even if it costs a thousand bucks." She was caught red handed, she looked like a female burglar and a life of thievery wouldn't even accept her and her clumsiness.
"Really? It's beautiful?" something in his voice suggested that he was anxious himself.
Christine nodded and wasn't sure if he saw it, "Yeah. And the melody too, profoundly pleasant. I'm very-"
A feminine shriek vibrated the room and she found a certain blonde by the door, looking terrified and shaken. "Christine! WHAT are you doing there?! That room is entirely private!"
"Oh I was just-" She felt a grip on her hand and saw his silhouette, posing his index finger on his lips, indicating to abort any further words. "Nothing! I was checking around..Some stuff!"
Meg clearly looked very confused, shaking her head and stepping out of the door like she's expecting of a trap to befall on her any minute. "Well? What are you still doing there? Get out now!" Christine now knew that Meg couldn't notice him, he blended well with the shadow and the fact that they're in the farther corner and Meg's out on the doorway.
Christine had almost forgotten that he was still holding her wrist. He suddenly let go.
She moves along, phone on her hand, aiming at it for the darkness. Once she felt the piano, she'd known she was now on the middle part of the room and now understood of its cleanliness, there is someone who lives here. Christine just have realized how truly big was the room, she failed to notice earlier because of her mind-abandonment for her to seek the music box.
Then out of nowhere, she felt the leather gloves holding her hand tightly, making her to stop in her tracks. Then that voice that she widely thought would be the cure for cancer, "Thank you." She couldn't even see his face but she, in some way, knew he was smiling and almost- shy? Then she didn't expect him to leaned over, almost a step away, and the blush on her face ran deep as he picks up something on her hair. She smelled the intoxicating scent of his perfume.
Christine felt a slap of abash when he handed her a stray, browning leaf.
She might have ask him of why was he thanking her and the feel of dread of him finding the cursed leaf, but Meg's chilling voice rang out once again, like an angry and scared banshee at the same time. She was nagging her to be quick. Meg was absolutely unaware of his presence and Christine's growing plethora of embarrassment and shame.
Once outside, Meg hurriedly closed the door.
Christine was going to ask what's all that about when Meg whipped around to stare at her face in an intimidating way.
"What?"
"Why did you go there?" Her tone was accusing and possibly betrayed. Christine was feeling guilty and slightly furious at her, Didn't Meg saw something unusual-like a leaf on her hair! And decides to not say anything?! She was with her for a lengthy moment and that guy perfectly saw it, in spite of the darkness.
Or maybe she didn't notices it at all. The brown leaf resembled the color of her hair anyway.
"Avenging my wild curiosity. Look, I'm very sorry."
Meg huffed and nodded with glassy eyes, "Yeah, me too, I'm sorry for the way I acted. But you should've never went there. What if Mr. Damon found you and.." She stops, looking disconsolate.
"And?"
"He's going to have his serious fits and you won't like that."
"But he didn't. Is he the one which I assume has a white covering on the side of his face?"
"HE SAW YOU?" Christine nodded. Meg's reaction was at first perplexed, then a flash of terror, then a grin. What is her real reaction trying to portray?
"Is there something wro-" without any seconds gone, Meg had already clung to her arms and Christine tried not to trip, or much worse as to fall while Meg practical drags her on the way down to the majestic stair.
Christine groaned to herself; what is it with people cutting her sentences?
And they're the ones living inside a mansion...
It happened too fast when Meg elapses through the big hall, with a very bewildered Christine.
The blonde received plentiful of scowls upon yelling out her mother's name in vain and rush. She soon stopped and forcing Christine to stop too, much to her joy.
"Good heavens, Meg! Why do you have to scream like a drunken daft? Breathe, Meg- what? Slow down!-Stop your tittle-tattle!" The older woman frowned at her daughter's antics. Yet her refined poise suggested that she was used to her crazy acts.
Meg seemed to calm down and reused her words carefully, "She-Christine- went to the room! You know, the room! And guess what mama? He wasn't upset! Or so I thought.. I was rounding a patrol if someone decides to go up and I found the door open to his room! And I didn't hear any scream, especially her scream!"
The woman widened her eyes and gazed at her in wander. Christine approved that this woman is indeed the mother of Meg, noticing the exact resemblance of their eyes. "Are you alright dear? He didn't harm you, did he?" her serious yet caring voice melted Christine's heart.
Christine shook her head, "No. Quite the opposite really, he sounds nice." and heavenly, she thought to her own, "He even thanked me." she wasn't planning on telling them he pulled a traitorous leaf on her hair, thinking to that action was already disgracing her and telling it- was a punch on a face with a hot rod. She felt the laughing leaf still residing on her palms.
Now the older woman smugly smiled at her, unbeknown of the war residing Christine's mind. "You must've pleased him. Erik is a very distant fellow and him interacting is very uncomfortable to him and mostly uncustomary of him to do. Saying Thank you means a lot of different meanings to perceive if he's the one saying it."
Christine thought of an action that pleased him... Is he amazed that she went to his room without his consent? And her touching his over the price things?
The next day, Christine found herself on her bed holding and staring at a gemstone. It was lovely and the shape of a heart, not too big and not too small. She decided to buy the gemstone of the color of amethyst, it was from Italy and she bought it for 85 bucks. It was worth it; for the children and for the melancholic part: it reminds her of her dear mama. Catharine Reede was all too fond of crocuses. Her entire garden was filled with bright crocuses especially her favorite color, purple. Little Christine would pluck them up upon their bloom and give them to papa. He would then smile up at her and lightly scold her for picking them too prematurely. Let them live the days when the friendly sun brings them light and the smiling Moon, to give them rest. I promise you my Amethystine, they will grow more beautifully and you will pick them for the world to see.
Amethystine...
Her papa called her many times of that name when she was a child. She hadn't known the meaning then, and she only thought that papa had remarkably jumbled her name to mama's color. She smiled warmly, recalling her sweet childhood days.
The thoughts on her head kept replaying the events of yesterday. And the sudden loneliness of the music box, it was a shame that it's not for sale though. But this gemstone was a great substitute for it.
Mrs. Antoinette Giry (Christine finally asked before parting their ways) was better in holding something and Christine was great of suspecting. She knew full well that there was more to the older woman's saying superlatives about Mr. Damon and his assumed mysterious facade, and it intrigued her more.
Curiosity is a very bad wont, Christine. Her father had told her when he caught her snooping around his work.
And yet she keeps on disobeying.
What a fine daughter she was.
The doorbell rang, she looked at the window and frowned. Christine wasn't fond of the mailman if he was delivering nasty letters like the bills. She purposefully slowed down her steps and cursed the door for being near.
Christine dreaded the sound of the opening door.
The mailman grinned and bid her a good day. He was holding a box, a medium size box. She was looking at him questionably and signed the paper on his hands anyway.
"What is it?"
The mailman shrugged, "Don't ask me, I'm just a mailman." he tipped his hat and said goodbye.
She locked the door close and ran to her bedroom, not able to contain her utmost curiosity. She nearly destroyed the wrapper in pieces and suddenly stopped herself.
What if it's a bomb?
Who would like to see you dead? You're the most-least exciting living organism in the whole world. Christine proceed to open the box, quarreling with herself was idiotic and to her shock and astonishment, a package she didn't expect.
A well-dressed monkey holding the shining cymbals...
It's the music box!
And with a letter.
Dear Miss Christine Reede ,
I hope you are having a pleasant day and hopefully this music box would be the cause of your fair smile once more.
Now you must be wondering to how I'd known your address and your name, it is because of Miss Giry, please don't be frightened for I only want you to give my beloved music box to you. You don't need a thousand of bucks to have this. (Christine chuckled at the memory of her desperate plea)
And I do not harbor any resentment at you for coming to my private quarters. It's nice to have some light into it, isn't it? And I was overly ecstatic to hear you play the piano, and Beethoven's For Elise. My, you have a wonderful choice of music.
I must say, the words you created for the music box is really brilliant! Are you a songwriter too? You deserve this than anyone. (Oh god, did he heard the Lemonade too?)
By the way, you have the most angelic voice, Miss Christine, I most certainly hope I would like to hear you again.
Yours,
Erik Damon.
Christine felt buoyant and frivolous, she could also hear him say the words inside her head. She held the paper and the music box on her chest, the crazy beat of her heart was evident.
She searched for her pen and paper somewhere in the drawer.
After all, she never even thanked him for the music box, this was it. Golly, he'd remembered her and her longing of her pure attraction of the box. And the unspoken leaf accident! She was exceedingly glad that he didn't add it on his letter. She would've punch herself on the gut.
Oh! How he complimented her! She thought of the words she wants to say, to make it as fancy as him. Even his penmanship puts hers to disgrace.
Dear Mr. Erik Damon,
Christine wrote and wrote, as the melody of the music box dwelled inside her ears.
UKNOWNYMUSE:
"Lemonade,
Paper cups on the shade
Lemonade
What a taste!
Everyone is enjoying all around you."
I regret nothing. *blasts overture*