3/5/10

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ROSE RED, ITS LOGOS, ITS CONCEPT, ITS CHARACTERS, NOR ITS IDEAS. THEY BELONG TO STEPHEN KING.

....

My eyes widened, staring into those of the woman. "N-Not there!" I shouted in a voice that seemed more of a squeak. I had heard Emery shout it before, but this time ... It was my turn. I would take control of the situation. The woman grinned back at me. I could see she was missing a tooth. Most likely from when she had been drug from the house and to the police station, where they had beat her. Where's April? Did she know?

I closed my eyes, "Not there!" I tried to sound angry, but it was as if I didn't believe myself. I heard a laugh that echoed around me. "GO AWAY!"

I screamed, opening my eyes in a glare. I then saw that no one was beside me. No one was staring at me, or grinning at me. The laughter was gone, as was the woman. I stood in silence, panting. I could feel bumps pimple my arms and legs. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, giving me chills.

It had worked? Or had I just imagined her? Was I starting to become crazy, stuck in this mildew-coated room of an old building? Perhaps.

I inhaled deeply, throwing myself forward into the light of the window. I wouldn't keep in the shadows where the dead lurked. Crossing the room to the door, I knelt down. I was still in the light. I pounded on the wood, expecting it to be stuck or locked. But to my surprise it creaked open, pushing forward as if it were nothing. I quickly crawled through, not waiting to ask myself why it was harder earlier to open it.

I jumped to my feet and raced down the hall, which had, of course, changed. I turned left, then right, then came upon a large bay window. Right in the middle of the hall. It was strange. I hesitated, feeling uneasy near the large span of glass in which I could be pushed through from behind. But something else called to me. I stepped forward and reached it, sitting myself on the white sill. I stared out the three windows, all of them peering out above the grounds at the driveway. I could see all of the scraggly vines of the plants, all of the leaves of dead trees. The lawn, the island, the fountain with the small pudgy-faced angels. Cherubs? No, that was atop the Tower.

I leaned forward and stared out at the driveway. I could see the van. I could see the back of the car swinging back and forth. Opened and closed. Hadn't we locked it before we came in? Into this evil place full of tricks and deceivery, I was sure we had made sure everything was closed. But perhaps not ...

I could hear the distant banging of the metal, along with another sound. The sound of wood being sawed. I had heard this before, earlier. Back in the Perspective Hallway, and the room it lead to. I had heard those noises, the saws and the hammers. Carpenters? No. It was Ellen. She had been called by Rose Red to build. Build the Tower, for her dear April whom had gone missing from the Kitchen. Oh, how that had sparked hate inside the woman. She hated Rose Red. She wanted to leave. But to be promised the life, or at least a spectre, of her dear daughter.... She could not. It would be impossible.

As I stared out the window, I felt a certain peace enter me. It was a strange feeling. To be at peace whilst others were downstairs, being tormented by the blue light of April and the face in the fire of Ellen.

The dead vampire woman would not scare me. Neither her daughter nor her maid. I would stay here, in peace, and stare out at the dead world. I would become part of Rose Red herself. I would reside in the walls, a quiet and kind ghost. That is, until, someone annoyed me. Then I would attack. I would haunt them, follow them down the halls and in their rooms. I would spy back to Ellen, the woman who would not scare me. No one would control me. I would be my ownself. And I would love it.

Just as I put my hand in the middle window, my fingers along the thin strips of white wood across the glass, I felt a presence. It didn't bother me. Perhaps it would be John, this time. His sobriety non-apparent and in need of comfort, as Ellen would give him none. Even dead men needed love.

I turned my head, my hand still on the glass, and expecting to see a deathly pale man with deep, sagging eyes, walking in a strange way. But instead, I saw something else. Indeed, it was a man whom was pale. But he was not dead. He approached me, staring quietly. Finally he spoke up.

"How did you get up here?" His accent was thick.

"How did you?"

"The stairs."

"You found me ... " I paused as he raised an eyebrow, "But you were not searching. How come?"

"By chance."

"Does no one miss me, or were you sent by the group as a sacrifice? Did they finally realize that I had stumbled out of the way of them and was now lost? Or do they not even know?"

"They know, Emily. They wanted to come."

"But?"

He sighed, "Just come back."

I turned back to the window, my hands in my lap. "I enjoy the view, Nick."

"Yes. It's lovely." He seemed a bit impatient.

"Do you think Ellen did to? I mean, no man would put a window here. Only the mind of a woman could think of such a thing ... making sure that they could enjoy the entire world whilst protected away in here ... " I sighed as I used my hand to gesture behind me, "in this castle."

"We need to get back ... "

I sighed heavily again. "All right ... " I stood, turning to him and began to walk off. He walked next to me, his eyes straight ahead. Just before we turned, and the hall was out of sight, I turned around to take one last look out the huge window.

Only to see that it wasn't there.

....

As I stepped forward into the Parlor, I could see that everyone was gathered on the couches. They were silent. I didn't know why. I had heard them chattering when I was all the way back, coming down the Grand Staircase. I frowned a bit, crossing over the ground to the chairs. I took a seat in silence.

Nick walked over to one of the couches, taking his place between Pam and Sister.

"Where .. Where were you?" Cathy asked, looking over at me. I noticed how tired she looked.

"The Perspective Hallway," I stated bluntly. She obviously didn't know what it was because she gave me a funny look.

"Perspective Hallway? Where's ... ?" she turned back to Joyce whom was over at her equipment, "Joyce?"

"Hmm?" she asked, looking up from a moniter.

"Where's the Perspective Hallway?"

"The what?"

"Emily, she said ... " Cathy shrugged and looked over at me, sitting back against the couch. Joyce turned to me.

"You went where?"

I looked over at her, giving her a look that meant I wasn't telling her. Or that she should have known where I was.

"Emily -- " Joyce began in an irritated tone, but was soon cut off.

"She was in the Perspective Hallway," Steve piped up, sighing, "It's a hall that Ellen had built after the death of George Meader. When you walk down the hall, itt gets narrower and shorted. It's an optical illusion."

"It's not ... " the woman began, looking through her plans, "It's not in the house -- "

"She had it built without plans. Just like the Mirror Library ... " He shrugged, "It's just the way she did things. It was done because George was a good friend."

"How good of a friend?" Joyce asked.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Invited to the January 15th Parties -- why does it matter? He's dead."

I blinked. Yes, I had a memory of the man. For some reason I knew whom he spoke of. George Meader .. he had something to do with the railroads. I recalled having seen metal traintracks running along the center of the hall's floor. Perhaps belonging to the large toy train that belonged to Adam. I somehow knew about that as well.

"So," Cathy turned to Nick, "you saw this hall?"

"No."

"How could you not? She was there," Sister began.

"That's not where I found her."

"Then .. where?"

"Down another hall." He looked over at me.

"And what was she doing?"

I felt it rude to not ask me themselves. But if they wished to ask Nick, who was I to deprive them of that? Whatever floated their boats.

"Staring."

"At what? You?"

"No. The wall."

"The wall?" Pam asked, exhaling a laugh as she did. She glanced over at me. "Why'd she do that?"

"You might ask her. She can provide an explaination better than I."

The group, except for Emery, looked at me. I sighed.

"I saw a window." I began, turning my eyes down to my lap. "It was a large bay window. It looked out onto the front of the property." I shrugged loosely, "It's not big deal."

"Well .... Did Nick see the window."

"No, I didn't."

"Then ... ?"

"It's just another one of Rose Red's tricks," Steven answered, defending me, "If she saw it, she probably did."

"I also heard saws." I added. He stopped. "And hammers. I smelled wood. And sawdust." I paused momentarily. I didn't want to tell them about Ellen or Sukeena. I didn't want to tell them of being locked away in a small room much like that in The Chocolate Factory. I didn't want to tell them I was hearing languages, and seeing John and Elleen's honeymoon.

"Did you .. see anything?"

I shrugged again and shook my head, never looking up. "No, just heard things."

"Did you .. hear Ellen?"

My heart skipped a beat. "No."

"Oh ... "

I didn't look up, feeling guilty that I had lied and relieved that I kept my secret to myself. I knew some of the group didn't believe me, such as Joyce, because I heard her exhale sharply. I glanced over to see her staring at me, then turn back to her computers and such.

I felt safe here, though only slightly. But anxious. I looked up to see that everyone was chattering as if I were not there. I looked over at the fire, which burned fiercely. I looked up, above the carved mantle, to see the oil painting of John Rimabuer. His cold eyes staring across the room, out the large window that looked onto the driveway. I felt like his eyes were not staring at me, until one of the simmering flames of the fire jumped up and made the paint shine. Then I saw the glint of his black pupil move, his iris brightening. Then I knew.

I knew Ellen was watching us, from anywhere in her large house. She could see us. She was enjoying our presence, soaking up our conversation. Guests, we were, in her house. In her home. I knew she could sense how we felt about her and this place. I knew she could read our thoughts, the ones that went unspoken among us.

I smiled, almost smirking, knowing to myself that she could see us.

And I knew ...

She loved it.