A/N: So, I needed a break and wrote this drabble. It's a second drabble for the prompt 'ghost'. The first time, if you'll remember, I wrote what I thought was an inspired three part story called 'The Muse' which some of you thought was depressing. So, here's another, shorter, open-ended story. Let's see if you all like this one :p
Sebastian walked by the doors every morning and evening on his way to prayer. In the whole of his village, the doors of this once glorious but now run-down, abandoned house were the most magnificent, the most ornate. They were made of solid gold and laden with tiles tooled from all manner of precious gems, all intertwined with mother of pearl. Tempting as the doors were, it was considered a sin to disturb them, and there were even legends throughout the village that the doors carried a deadly curse. Robbers and thieves from other villages, hearing tales of the opulent doors, came from miles around to try and loot the beautiful stones, only to be found dead at the threshold, or to disappear entirely, family members arriving from time to time to search for them in vain.
Most people in the village shuffled quickly by the doors, not even bothering to look at them lest they catch the curse and carry it home, but not Sebastian. He stopped in front of the doors every day. He said blessings to them, and when no one else was looking, he would try the handles, a feat which most people believed was paramount to a death sentence.
It didn't matter. The doors were always locked.
Sebastian walked almost a mile out of his way to pass by the doors. He didn't know why, but from the first moment he laid eyes on them he felt a connection to them. In a strange, inexplicable way he felt that his destiny lay behind those doors. He simply needed to find a way to get to it.
Thirteen long years he spent passing by the doors, day and night, pushing on the handle, hoping each time that they would swing open for him and reveal their secrets. Now at the age of seventeen, considered a man in his village, he was preparing to wed a spouse chosen by his parents, to settle down, to start a family and take over his father's shop, to live as a merchant and die as a merchant – his whole life planned from birth to death without his having a single word to say about it.
The square was dark and quiet, the hour late. He had stayed at temple far longer than anyone – even longer than the priests. They paid him no mind, extinguishing the candles around him and leaving the door unlocked, knowing eventually he would wander home on his own. The moon shown down on the glittering gold handles as he passed by the doors, and Sebastian sighed. He almost considered passing by without stopping. Whatever lay beyond those doors obviously wasn't waiting for him to discover it, but as he tried to walk away he felt that pull that always came with struggling to ignore what he felt belonged to him and him alone.
He stopped and turned, deciding that this was the last time. He would try the doors which wouldn't open, and he would finally say goodbye to whatever it was he thought he was meant to find.
Sebastian stood before the doors, the silver light of the moon at his back, the gold of the doors reflecting in his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the handle.
The doors felt light for some reason, and Sebastian's heart stopped pounding in his chest. He knew without moving another inch that this time the doors would swing open. He pushed on the doors gently, and they gave way with a sound like a long drawn out sigh, as if the doors themselves were holding their breath for decades waiting for Sebastian to arrive at just this moment. A strong wind rushed out, cold and fresh, swirling around his body and drawing him into the house with it. The moment he stepped through the doorway, the gold doors shut behind him. With the sound of the locks clicking, tumblers falling back into place, Sebastian became afraid, remembering all the men who trespassed here and were never seen again.
He turned back toward the doors, searching for an escape; but a voice, high and clear and more felt than heard, begged him to turn back around.
'Please. Please don't go, Sebastian,' the voice pleaded.
Sebastian turned around, feeling oddly at ease with that voice lingering in his mind.
"Who's there?" he whispered, not wanting to raise his voice since this place, broken and ruined as it was, was still considered sacred ground. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"
The darkness in the room shimmered, like waves of light off an unseen pool of water were reflecting off the very air. It shifted and changed, captured the light and sucked in the darkness around it, until it became the image of a person – a man, tall and lithe with pale, ghostly white skin and eyes like sapphire prisms, twinkling with laughter, clouded by sorrow, filled to the brim with a thousand and one bittersweet memories and forgotten promises.
The man felt familiar, but only the way a dream feels familiar because you've had it so many times before that your mind accepts it as real – even though rationally you know it's only a fantasy.
"Sebastian, my love," the apparition said, drawing itself close until Sebastian could feel the cold aura surround him like an embrace. "My name is Kurt…and I've been waiting here for you…"