CHAPTER FOUR

DREAMS OR NIGHTMARES

The little boy. The weeping son. He was running frantically through a yard... a meadow of yellow flowers. A large house – almost like a castle – was behind him in the distance, maybe miles and miles away. The little boy was full-on sobbing now. He crashed to his knees and put his little head into his little hands. I wanted to reach out and comfort him – hug him or something.

But I couldn't. Because I wasn't there.

I didn't jolt awake this time. I just woke up. I wondered who that little boy was.

As I sat up in bed I caught site of the French woman's book on my desk. It was now or never.

I rode my bike up the hill this time – without Todo. The long and tall wire gates were wide open and rusted. It didn't look like they'd really been closed. I left my bike on the ground by the gate and got onto my feet. I wrapped my arms around my middle as I walked through the dirt path leading up to the large black oak double doors. I was right before. The house was large and imposing with chipped paint. The large black oak double doors looked repainted.

I gripped the large bronze knocker and was just about to knock when I noticed that the door that Emile – the French woman – had ushered me through was slightly ajar. With a trembling hand, I slowly and carefully pushed the door open. It creaked slightly, making me freeze. But when it was open enough for me to squeeze through, I did so slowly.

I looked around the big room I'd only gotten a glimpse of my last time here. The ceiling was high. The grand staircase looked wide enough for at least fifty people to line up on. The landing was bronze and the steps were black oak as well.

Then suddenly the door behind me slammed, shutting out all daylight. Candles flickered at the gust of wind from the action and the flames struggled to stay lit and lively. I gasped loudly and looked behind me, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the new lighting, "Who are you?"

"Ce que tu fais ici?" The dark, booming and deep voice called out loudly. My eyes could just make the outline of his tall, dark robed figure. He was imposing to say the least. "Vous ne devriez pas etre ici!"

"I DON'T SPEAK FRENCH!" I screeched way to loudly and way too bravely for how I was really feeling. I was practically shaking in fear.

It was silent. Dead. For almost two tortured seconds. Until the same dark, booming voice said with a thick french accent, "You should not be here."

I tried to hide how scared I was.

He asked, "Why are you here?"

I held up the French woman's book, "She left this at the library. I was bringing it to her."

I heard a dark sinister chuckle as his figure moved, "What is your real reason? Fille."

I gulped, "I—I don't.. really know... I guess I just.."

"You just what?" He snapped. But he didn't wait for my stuttering answer and said, "You need to leave!"

"Last time I was here you were yelling for me to stop," I pointed out, surprised at myself for not peeing my pants and sprinting out of there. I don't know what I was thinking by coming here in the first place.

"I thought you said you didn't speak French," The figure mocked.

I breathed deeply in through my nose, "I don't – I looked it up."

"Doesn't matter," he growled, "Leave. For your own safety."

"And what about Emile's safety?" I asked bravely. And now I knew I was really just here for her. And answers.

"She is none of your concern."

"I'd like to thank her... Where is she?"

"Alive, if that's what you're really asking." Something about the voice now as bitter, as if self-resentful.

I whipped around, calling out, "Emile!"

I heard a heavy sigh and the figure called out, "Emile! Descendre!"

The large chandelier overhead suddenly lit up. I whipped around again to look up the grand staircase and see the frail looking Emile come rushing down, shaking like a leaf. I met her halfway up the stairs and grabbed her hands, looking into her face, "Please. Tell me what's going on! Uhh... ce qui... se... passe?"

The dark voice of the figure growled loudly, "Leave it alone. As you can see, Emile is in fine health."

I whipped around, more angry than scared, "No, nothing is fine. Something is going on at this house and you're causing it. I don't know how and I don't know why but I know that it is. And I'm not gonna sit by and let this sweet old lady suffer when she tried to help me!"

I was panting by the end of my little spiel. The figure stood taller, "I haven't hurt anyone! I have never hurt anyone! I'm the only one who suffers here!"

I scoffed, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

The figure slumped, the tail of his – or it's – robe dragging on the marble floor. He didn't answer me. He just walked past me and Emile on the staircase and up.

Emile grabbed my hands more firmly and started pushing me towards the door, "S'il vous plait. Go. Danger."

I went.

But I had a feeling I'd be back.

"So handsome," A woman cooed. She was beautiful, flawless. Her nose was pointed and straight. Her hair looked like fine black silk, dark as pitch dark night. Her skin was milky and pail without a single blemish. But her eyes stood out the most. They were a bright, vibrant green. Unlike any other green color I had ever seen before. Almost inhuman.

She was half-naked – only in her underwear. She ran her fingernails lightly over the strong and muscular chest of a young man. I recognized him as the man from my dreams. He looked distressed. He looked like he wanted to push the woman off of him. But what young horny male would push her off?

"So... grown up," Her eyes glanced up and down, lingering by his hips.

Her hands traveled up, about to cup his face, when he firmly grabbed her wrists, "No, fae."

She looked startled, "No?"

He nodded firmly.

She pushed her little body up and smashed her lips to his. She moaned wantonly as he tried to wrench her off. But after a moment he finally pulled away... and smiled.

Seeing her face again... she was me.

The young man smiled and cupped my face, "So beautiful. Belle." and he leaned in to kiss me again. I kissed him back, hard. I reached to wrap my hands around his neck. He wrapped his strong arms around my waist and lifted me up, carrying me to the bed behind us.

He laid me down, climbing on top of me and leaning down to kiss my neck. I fought a small moan as his kisses grew lower, towards my breasts. I felt my hands up and down his bare back. His kisses traveled back up my neck to the side of my face. He kissed my cheeks, my nose and then my lips.

He pulled back slightly and looked down at me with nothing but love in his eyes, "So beautiful. My Belle. I love you, Belle," he said as his fingers pulled down my underwear.

"Whoa," I gasped and shot up in bed.

That was... intense to say the least. And confusing.

Really confusing.

"Lookie here Belle, at what I found," Myrtle told me with somewhat of excitement in her voice.

I looked at her curiously and asked, "What did you find?"

"I finally found the source of all those horrid stories. It's mere coincidence from years ago. I was just a girl," She set down an old newspaper on the desk in front of me and pointed at the headline; MONSTER SIGHTED AT HAUNTED HILL.

"See, Belle? Some little boy thought he saw a monster and the whole hoax spread through town. People tend to twist tales the worst way for a good story. It's a shame. Such a beautiful house."

My attention was locked on the picture. It was blurry, unfocused. But it was a man. Disfigured. But human.

I looked up at the date; April 12th, 1951. I pointed to the print and said, "This can't be right. That was over sixty years ago."

Myrtle shook her head, "No, that's the right day sure. It's an old paper. Aint even running anymore. But the print doesn't lie."

I gazed at the picture. The figure I met didn't sound much older than this 'monster' must have been.

What was going on?

"And I found this one too. Source of the beast, I assume."

She pointed out another headline TOMAS BOY GOES MISSING! BEAST TO BLAME?

There was a picture of a grown man, maybe in his mid-twenties. He was blonde and handsome. But not the man in my dreams. And not the figure I had met. I looked at the date; December 5th, 1954.

What was going on?

I peddled faster than I ever had before, one hand clutching the handle and one hand clutching the papers to the other handle. I was angry, scared and on a mission. For answers.

I dropped my bike by the gate and ran up the dirt path. I push open the black oak doors and ran inside the house yelling, "Hey! Whatever your name is! Come down here now and talk to me!"

Silence. But I knew that he was here. He never leaves.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! Give me some answers! Now!"

"S'en aller! Go away!" His voice growled.

I could hear the echos of where his voice was coming from. Clutching the newspaper in my hand I started running up the gran staircase. "No! You need to tell me what this all means! Why do I keep dreaming about a little crying boy or a woman seducing a man? Why does the whole town think a monster lives here! Explain these newspaper articles about a beast at the Haunted House and a boy going missing!"

I barged into a random room, surprised to see that he was actually in there, and held up the newspapers as if to say 'see?'

He was silent. Unmoving. It looked like he was thinking or something. "You don't want to know. Sotte."

I narrowed my eyes, "I don't speak French. And yes, I do want to know. I keep having these.. dreams... and I need to know the truth."

He didn't say anything.

I groaned, "Look, it's not like I'm a reporter or I'm gonna run and tell everyone but I've been having these strange ass dreams and questions and would like to know why."

"You're not going to tell everyone?" He asked in a shocked voice.

I scoffed, "Yeah, I'm gonna go tell everyone in this town there's a beast or something. That won't send me into more solitude. Besides, what business is it of theirs?"

"What business is it of yours?" He asked back.

"I'm the one with the freaky dreams. I deserve answers. Now."

"Mon seigneur," he groaned, "I made the mistake of rejecting a fairy's advances. She cursed me. To be alone and hideous for all eternity."

I was quiet. That sound like my dream with the woman. Didn't really explain the second part but I wasn't willing to ask him about that. "Another thing... the picture in the paper... is from sixty years ago. How old are you?"

He laughed bitterly, "That will surely make you run away."

I set the papers down on a large oak desk, "Try me."

By the way his head turned, he was looking at me now. But I couldn't see his face. I couldn't see anything of his. "I was born in 1746."

I gasped loudly, trying to do the math in my head, "That's over two hundred years ago."

He chuckled bitterly again, "I am to be this way forever..."

"Just because some chick couldn't handle the word no?"

He chuckled again, less bitterly, "I never thought of it that way."

Suddenly my phone rang. I sighed and quickly answered, "Hello?"

"Hello dearie, I was just wondering where you are. Dinner is almost ready," Aunt Silvia answered in her sickly sweat voice.

I ran a hand through my hair and said, "I'll be home soon. Bye." I hung up and looked at the figure awkwardly, "I have to go..."

"I've been trying to get you to go. But you never really leave."

I ignore him and walked out the door, I paused at the doorway and twisted to look at him, "I'll be back."

"I figured as much."

REVIEW!

RegalGirl94

Ce que tu fais ici? What are you doing here?

Vous ne devriez pas etre ici! You should not be here!

Fille. Girl

Descendre Come down

S'en aller! Go

Sotte Foolish girl

Mon seigneur, My Lord