It was Christmas Day

It was Christmas Day and I sat shivering  cold and alone in my father's house. I call it not my own house for that it is not- it is just a place that I'm living in- my heart is my only home. I had been contenting myself with my writings and musings and drawing my name on the frosty window glass, but my mind is now overcome with depressing thoughts of Alexander. He had seemed so perfect- so genuine. Yet he was a fraud- but I must admit- I am just as much a fraud as he was. My mind brooded over this fact, knowing it was indeed true, but my heart soundly rejected it; my heart tried to make me believe that I was an innocent victim- but alas, I did not cry out, so I was as guilty as he. Such a stupid, foolish girl I am! How could I have been such a fool! Believing words from a mouth I barely know- expressing love- wishing me to come forward- how could, how could I have believed him! Such a stupid, stupid fool.
But alas, there is nothing I can do about it now- not a thing.
So I'll sit here in this cold, dark parlor and brood until my soul is as cold as the frosty air. Such a miserable old maid I am!
I rose from my seat on the stuffed couch of -hair and, throwing off the blanket that had been wrapped around my shoulders, I knelt to stir up the slowly dying fire. As the old fairy tales always depict, I sat down on the ground before my, unfortunately, pitiful fire and spread my skirts about me. I wrapped the heavy wool blanket around my shoulders and lap and swirled my lukewarm tea in my orphaned tea cup, watching the weak brown liquid race around the inside of the teacup. Then I stared into the flames and tossed more logs and twigs into the fireplace until it grew into a roaring blaze. And somehow I grew sleepy in front of that warm coziness and fell into a deep sleep.
Until I heard the loud creak of the hall outside the parlor doors, however. Animal terror surged through my veins in an instant and my heart pounded so hard in my chest I felt as if the whole world could hear it. The door handle started to turn and I panicked. I took possession of the heavy iron poker next to the fire, which was now just a tiny flame, and darted, seemingly noiselessly, into the deepest shadows of the room, all the while hiding the fireplace poker in the holds of my skirt. My hair had long fallen out of a poorly dressed coiffure and lay in long pieces about my shoulders and face- this gave the impression that instead of a mad woman outside haunting the grounds, it was I who was mad. In the parlour no less.
The door handle continued to slowly open (turn) and the door noiselessly opened, and to my utter horror, not the mad woman entered, but Alexander. How he had been let into my heavily barred house I would never know, but nevertheless, there he was. He squinted into the darkness and then made straightaway to my writing desk, which I had had moved into the parlor only this morning. He took out a lock-picker's tool and worked long and hard to open it, but alas, he made no progress, for which I was infinitely thankful.
Throughout this whole time my body was as rigid as a board of our white picket fence, and my breath was shallow and fast. My head was becoming dizzy and I feared I would faint dead away and be found out. I might even stab myself with the poker I was holding onto with white-knuckled hands.
He finally gave up and I heard him curse under his breath. He walked over to the dying fire and kicked the dead ashes- or so he thought, but no, they were not dead- they flared up and sent light into every corner of the room. it was then that he noticed the heavy wool blanket I had left on the floor. He stooped and picked it up, instantly feeling the heat that it still held from my body.
I held my breath and prayed as I never had before, but I could not bear to close my eyes. His brow furrowed and he glanced around the room- he looked uncertain and a bit worried, so he hastily left the room.
I heard the floor creak outside the parlor door and then the familiar scraping on the heavy front door as, to my astonishment, he casually and nonchalantly left as if it were his own house and as if it were the middle if the day instead of the dead of night.
Now I understood the wicked rumors spreading throughout the village- of the impropriety of the general's daughter while he was away.
After my terrorized brain had sorted this out- I hated that man who had strung me out all the more- and more vehemently.
You see, as a child I had been deceived.

Trembling

Quietly my heart trembles in my chest. I’m breathing hard anticipating that first kiss. The moon is full; the flowers are fragrant. Your hand is on my face; I gaze into your amber eyes. It seems as if we’re suspended in space. Longing to come together, but held apart by the unseen. I drink up the passion in your eyes. My heart has been a desert for far too long. The kiss in your eyes is better than a thousand embraces, a thousand “I love yous,” and a thousand others. Because you waited I love you the more. Because you held back and respected me, my heart will be yours forever. I was ready to throw myself into the wind, and into your arms, but you held me back. You practiced the morals I thought I always had.
A scream pierced the night air and cut the romance flowing between our hearts. A shriek and the sound of a mad animal came closer and closer. My eyes grew wide with fear and I knew she was back to haunt me. She had kept her promise. In a frantic frenzy I pulled you into the house away from her clawing, greedy grasp. The candlelight flickered eerily in the room and a sharp breeze blew it’s breath and eliminated the glow. The moon cast it’s beams through the room and we saw her standing in the spot we had left. She was standing in the garden, where she always stopped, and reached out for the glass. Her crazed look had diminished and she looked peaceful and calm.
“Ellen?” I breathed. And I wondered if it could be possible…that she would be well. But nay, as soon as I spoke, her animal nature returned and she growled like a dog. She lunged as if to enter through the parlour doors, but an invisible force kept her back and she fled into the night.
I turned and glanced about me for Andrew, but he had vanished into thin air. All was calm and still about me. But I could not shake off my uneasy feeling. I was shaken and torn. Confused and suddenly alone. I creeped up the staircase to my chamber and lay in my bed all night. Eyes wide open-fears running alive through my head. Hearing Ellen crying out in the distance. I feared she would drive me mad…like she had already done to herself.

As Soon As the Sun

As soon as the sun peeked it’s first rays over the horizon, Ellen’s distant cries fell silent. It was as if she was mourning…or herself or others no one will ever know. I slipped out of my bed and lifted the curtain hanging across the window. The sunrise was golden-orange and held a translucent beauty. I sighed. Maybe my life would never be peaceful again. I thought of Andrew and wondered again where he had gone…and with Ellen outside to haunt the gardens and  grounds. I was petrified to leave the house since she had come; and I had few visitors. Rumors were flying all over the surrounding countryside and villages. Parents were keeping their children in at night and all travelers were warned about continuing their journeys in the darkness. Everyone blamed me for putting her out, but I could not live with such a woman under my roof. She was a danger to the servants and to me.
And only I knew the secret of her insanity.
I was saddened that I had lost my childhood friend- the girl who had always held my confidence, all my secrets and loves. But we had not been friends for years. She had broken my trust. Turned her back on me and my feelings. I had been ecstatic when I learned that my beloved Daddy had asked her to come with us when we moved to Swallow Head Grange, but not long after we arrived Ellen and I met a fellow named Edward…
He was a dashing, handsome man of twenty-five. Dark haired, tanned from the military, and with the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. Of course both of us had just reached seventeen, but that made us the more susceptible to the flirtation of men and boys. We had really no knowledge of the real world, and when one of them “stooped as low as to flirt with two love-sick children,” as my daddy put it, we would have torn our hearts out and presented it too them with flowers and kisses. So when we met Edward, we were infatuated and thrilled. But then the jealousy and suspicion came into play. If one of us would accuse the other of monopolizing his attention or his “love” as we called it in private. The poor dear hadn’t known what he was getting into.

A Cold September Day

It was a cold September day in the year of 1815, the wind was howling and the darkness was settling fast upon my English home. As I looked out the window I shivered and began to rub my arms. I was all alone in the house those days, save Robert, the butler (valet); Molly, the house maid; and Mrs. Tilley, our congenial, if not bossy old cook. Mrs. Wittenmore, our former housekeeper had been let go exactly a week before this date, and it seemed as if her cruel prediction of my life being ruined was already becoming more of reality than fiction. You see, Daddy had gone off to war again…it seems that Napoleon, the “little tyrant”, as some called him, had escaped his island prison and was attempting to reconquer Europe for the second time. I myself had thought him a pompous little fool-but of course, I was watching from a distance.. At this thought of mine even the sky rebelled and sent streaking hail against the window pane, jarring me from my reverie. Even the clouds seemed to disapprove of my thoughts, but, then, they must have observed Napoleon and his army in action. For a few more precious minutes I stared languidly out the foggy window panes, but presently I was called to tea. Since I had so thoroughly disposed of Mrs. Wittenmore, I had no one to keep me company, as the servants and cook kept to their own private quarters. This being the case, I took my tea and retired to the parlor where I could sit beside the cozy flame and watch the rain and hail beat incessantly against the window. This above described scene was a regular occurrence in my meager life. I ate, drank, and slept. Most of my time was spent in the luxurious outside garden that my daddy had built for me when we had first moved here, but ten years hence. There was an orchard to the far back of the garden also. It was there that I betook myself whenever I felt the need to confine myself to solitude (be alone).
As I sat down in the parlor and took my tea I became aware of a dark silhouette wandering through the garden outside the parlor doors. I instantly became frightened and insecure. This seclusion was driving me insane, and I knew it. The shadowy form drew closer and closer to the parlor doors and when the thing had almost reached it it stopped and stared intently inside, it’s eyes burning flames into my soul. It’s eyes were like the translucent glow of the peculiar insect, the fire fly, or so I had read, that the little things flew about giving an impression of tiny stars or fairy dust floating through the night air. But these eyes- no, they were not the pleasant little creatures I had read of. These were like little sparks of the hottest fire- sometimes white hot, sometimes kindling to a (white flash) fiery red glow that reminded me of the devil’s pit. It’s face was party illuminated by the fire that was burning cheerfully across from (where I sat frozen) me, and from what I could see it would have been a fine face, with delicate features and soft natural curls framing it, but it was twisted with insanity, and what I may safely assume was rage and hate. The rest of it was hidden by the darkness and the deep fog that had seeped up from the moors. So transfixed had I been on this demon-creature that my eyes cried out for moisture. I blinked, and in that second, the figure was gone.
Ask me not, reader, what happened to the sprite, for to this day the mystery is still not fully solved (plain) to me. I sat there for some time afterwards, shaking with fear and penetrated with horror, so badly had the apparition shaken me. My tea had been forgotten and my cake had fallen to the floor at my feet. I was in a daze- pondering whether the thing had been a dream, or reality. I am certain that I would have still been there if my previously mentioned Mrs. Tilley had not come in and found me in a state of shock. The darling old dear bustled me up to my apartment and helped me undress and climb into my bed. I know not how I managed to sleep that night, but this I know, the ghost never is vanquished from my dreams, and some lonely nights my screams still wake the household.