well anyways, hope you're enjoying yourself
# Part Nine:
Lark played her finest, she was positive on that, she beamed as she rubbed her fingers. They were a little sore from playing so long. But all good things must come to an end, she sighed and stood up from the piano's bench and bent to gather her cloak from the floor. A breath of cold air chilled the back of her neck suddenly. Straightening, Lark rubbed her neck, looking around nervously; how could there be a draft in a room with no windows? And she was positive that she closed the door behind her so how could she feel cold air blowing on her? The girl had never felt one when she was ill.
It came again; chills ran down her from her neck to her spine, from behind her. Turning around slowly Lark found herself looking face to face with the full length mirror. A look of puzzlement crossed her face as she reached out and touched the cold glass with her fingertips. Feeling across the smooth surface, her quivering hand felt a hairline opening at the end of it; excitement filled her to the brim, wasn't it an opening? Lark ran a finger down the crack on the side and jumped as a cold breeze of air reached her hand. Now she knew where the draft came from but…she stuffed her fingernails in the crack and pulled slightly to the right. The glass slide to the side as if it was a door, revealing a dark passageway. Lark's heart pounded madly in her temples as a gust of cold air washed over her.
"Amazing…" she murmured, and without thinking of anything else, she slipped inside the passageway and closed the mirror…door? Looking up, she saw that the mirror was two-way; she could see the inside of her room but when looking from the front of the glass you couldn't see the hall. 'Ingenious,' she thought giddily as she studied the door's works. Cobwebs hung loosely from barely used candle holders and water dripped from the stone ceiling. She could barely see in front of her into the darkness; unconsciously Lark hoped she didn't have to clean this hall.
Putting out a hand to guide her, Lark felt her way down the passage stumbling slightly. Looking back once, she convinced herself this wouldn't take too long; it didn't seem to go so far down. Feeling the wall was rather unpleasant for it was wet with water and a bit sticky, Lark was positive she had heard several rats too. Going down father into the blackness, a soft light appeared ahead and when passing it, the girl saw that it was a torch. "Someone uses these tunnels," she said out loud, her voice echoing off the walls. Clamping a hand to her mouth she waited tense; nothing happened. Sighing, Lark continued on, keeping one hand firmly along the wall and the other resting on the slight bulge in her shirt.
It felt like twenty minutes had passed before Lark turned a corner. Coming around she stopped dead with her mouth dropping open in awe; she had come to the shores of some sort of lake. A large, ominous looking house towered over its waters. "Amazing," she breathed, entering the house silently. There were candles in dark brackets on the walls to light up the dim hallways and no other decorations could be found. Lark stopped at a slightly opened door. It beckoned to her and the child felt her fingers consent and open it wide enough for her to slip in. It was rather dark, but candles lit the place mostly. A dark, canopied object was the farthest from her, but she felt no need to look at it. A few black tapestries hung up on the walls with white notes repeated on a huge scale. "Pretty," she murmured, wondering what it would sound like if it was played. A desk sat in a corner, scattered with papers, possible paintings, and pens with their bottles of ink, and other items that Lark couldn't name.
Another spot of the room had a few instruments lying quietly on the ground, unused in their own little corner. Sheets of what seemed like music lay strewn around them, creating a little pool of musical items. There were doors leading someplace else down the halls, but Lark didn't feel the urge to search them. This was obviously someone's house, or possibly a getaway of some type. Shivering with excitement, Lark picked her way through the music sheets and instruments.
The thing that had caught her eye was magnificently set with a large keyboard and pipes, resting in center of the room; an organ. "Oh lor," she whispered, running her hands over the white dove and ebony black keys. The organ was a piece of work for sure, with rich carvings, well polished frame, and well used keys; someone played it frequently for sure. Half finished and completed music scores were scattered all over its top and a single blood-red rose lay on the organ seat, its leaves slightly wilted but still quite pretty. Plucking up a strangely familiar music piece, Lark drew in a sharp breath; it was the music from her room. Now she felt nervous and looked around the room; if this was the music sheets from the dressing room then this must be…
A cold, rage-filled voice cut through the air. "What are you doing?"
Updated. XD
