Page 50 of Threads Of Madly Whispers

The journey was a medley of lost thoughts, stolen glances and silent peeks over the vast greenery that broke through the wilderness. Although the clouds above us threatened to tear a cryful evening, the weather felt balmy. Along the way, I succumb to the warmth of sleep that I am later awoken from by the soft feel of Sebastian’s lips on mine. He thrusts his tongue into my fervently suckingmouth, taking my breath and sanity away. And when I regrettably push away from him with swollen lips, I’m made aware of the Chateau everyone has entered and one we were to spend our night in.

With bare land around us, the Chateau adorned itself like a crown, high and mighty, with a river that peered from behind. The decrepit structure looked like something from the medieval ages, with the sheer size of a catholic academy. And the inside was a maze of corridors and rooms. The craftsmanship that was poured into every stone must have told of a monumental time.

Most of the floor was garnished in a rich carpet, while walls were etched with marveling wall tapestries. And while there was so much to wander about, and denude, the day was soon to get away from us if we did not put first what was most important. Oscar offered us a ride, but when Miro saw the bicycles that were collecting dust at the back, we chose an airy long journey instead. Lady Ann’s cottage was not too far off, either.

The rush of wind crashing against my skin, my hair caught in the air, and the scent of wood, rain, and pine lingered around us, flooding me with nostalgia. It carried me back to a time when life was carefree and vibrant. But I wasn’t the only one lost in the moment. Miro rode wildly, while Naseria’s laughter danced with the breeze, and I joined them. It was liberating, the most fun we’d felt in months.

“Goodness gracious, isn’t this fun Odessa?”

“I feel like a kid,” I shout at the top of my lungs, garnering the attention of the people that strolled around us, but I could have cared less. As we pass through shops and ride along pathways following the trail Miro is leading by, I almost forget why we stop when we come to LadyAnne’s cottage—trees blanket around a melancholically decaying home. It’s small with weather-worn walls, a rustic timber door and a porch, yet somehow its ambiance is appealing.

I set my bike gently on the ground, the weight of apprehension pulling at my feet, but I take one step at a time, closing the short distance to her door. Just before I can raise my hand to knock, the door swings open. A young woman with coral zealous red curls and whisky eyes opens it.

“Can I help you?” She shifts her gaze effortlessly from me to Naseria and Miro, now standing beside me, though I catch the fleeting shock that dances in her eyes.

“Does Lady Anne stay here?” Naseria asks.

“You mean Bonnie, then.” Her eyes linger on Miro before snapping back to me.

“Perhaps.”

“She’s in the garden, tending to her dead flowers, but follow me.”

She closes the door behind her and leads us further into the woods and towards a cemetery. But I notice the way she steals a few glances at Miro, and I do not miss the playful smirks he sends her way. From behind, Naseria and I share our own silent laughter.

Interesting

“Avo, she’s here.”

We round a corner past a towering tree, and when my eyes land on the woman seated on a blanket, sorting dried begonias, I instinctively take a step back, my nails digging into my palm. My heart stops. Silver hair and eyes that match my own stare back at me. She seems rather unreal. Like a nonpareil, an angel so befitting with death. She is an elderly yet her eyes are the scintilla of a soul so youthful unlike mine.Goodness.

“Sebastian did indeed say you look every bit of me.” She chuckles with delight, a feeling I’m finding trouble associating with. “Oh you pale thing, why don’t you and your friends take a seat and I promise to answer your questions.” She pats the blanket underneath her.

I’m hesitant, but when I feel Miro squeezing my hand with guidance, I swallow a lungful amount of air and perch myself on the ground. The world around me muffles as a heftiness tanks down my spirits, lodging in my throat and suffocating the lights out of me.

I have so many questions, yet my heart doesn’t want to ask them all. I’m afraid, the feeling strips me bare, leaving me wallowing in my own misery. Tearing my pluck to shreds.

How did we get here?

Lost in a sea of grievances and mystery, stranded on an unknown land with nothing but the clothes on my back. I hear the white noises like waves crashing on the shore and when I look up I see the storm lurking on the walls. The thunder roars, a curse of trepidation making a home in my bones.

I detest this feeling.

“It feels like a gale doesn’t it, rippling just underneath the tips of your fingers,” she smiles a warm and soft smile. “Fear less, the news I’m yet to say is not as daunting.”

“Lady Anne,” Naseria says.

“Yes dear, but call me Bonnie, I was last called Anne Boleyn many years ago.”

Words fail me, like I’ve never uttered a sentence in my life before. My tongue turns dry, my throat burns with a fiery sensation, and my eyes grow heavy with maddening hopelessness. I want to believe it shall all pass, but the weight of it is unbearable. I thought in my desire for death Ihad found strength, and how utterly wrong I was. Because as I look at Bonnie, I’m left nothing but a breathing mess.

“You mentioned Sebastian, how do you know of him?”

Indeed, the man who keeps his cards close to his heart. One moment I think I’m holding the key to the reckless limb, yet in the next I feel locked away from it. Trapped under his unrelenting hold, unable to escape his brewing typhoon.

“I met him a few weeks back when a man named Oscar came searching for a past I thought was long buried. One look at me, and he showed me a picture of you, and I knew. I’d know my sister’s eyes anywhere.”

Sister

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