Sphinere Castle had been standing proudly in the vast meadows of Caper since the 15th century, its history shrouded in folklore of hidden treasures and mysterious apparitions. However, it was surprisingly well-preserved. With its four storeys, the attic, the stair-wing and the gatehouse, it welcomed the first rays of morning and basked in starlight of night. Its image was also a frequenter of cheap postcards and tourists’ showy photos.
It was a seemingly ordinary Thursday afternoon. The gentle breeze of summer wafted across the plains, carrying a nice fragrance mixed of begonias, roses and primulas. Tourists of all corners of the globe surrounded Sphinere Castle like an undisciplined army, some of which even dressed as Lord Sunnyduke, the haunting ghost of the castle, making it even harder to distinguish the real specter from its imitators.
A young man in a beige coat standing facing the castle was neither taking photos or chasing ghosts. He was holding a pen-like gadget emitting a series of beeping noises. He grinned as he muttered, “Abnormal fluctuations of electromagnetic waves? How intriguing.” Then he advanced toward the castle.
Sphinere Castle was also home to a lovely historic library called Once Upon a Time. The library inherited the castle's vintage style, such as marble statuses lined with walnut bookshelves and stunning classic oil-paintings that covering secret passages, while struggling to keep pace with the modern society. Different periods of time came here and stayed, creating a wonderland of interveining illusions.
A chattering couple entered the library and started to carelessly frolic amidst the towering bookshelves. Suddenly, they sensed a gaze of a pale-faced girl. Startled, they jumped back, only to realize the figure was probably the librarian.
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They laughed in awkward and asked, “So, are there any real ghosts here?”
“Oh, you can see me? Fascinating!” the girl replied in a trembling voice. “It's been a rather lonely 300 years of wandering these halls.”
Watching the couple hurled themselves out of the door, Elara Nova showed a smug smile. “Oh, God, it is so funny,” she thought. “Got them every time.”
Elara walked back to the cashier where the library sold all kinds of souvenirs, such as postcards of the castle and the ghosts, fridge magnets of the castle and the ghosts, and jigsaws of the castle and the ghosts.
An old man nearby reproached as she was handing out a mug to an innocent customer, “It is a library, for heaven's sake! Not a Marks&Spencer! Your greed has turned this historical masterpiece into something vulgar!”
“And when are you going to, Mr Campbell,” she retorted with a sweet smile. “return the leather-bound copy of Druid Magic Vol. 2: Regain Your Virility after 70 Years Old you borrowed last year? It’s worth £2000 you see.”
Mr Campbell was too incensed to speak. Just then, a funky student chimed in, “Excuse me, Miss?”
“Yes?” Elara answered.
“If you really want to earn money, why don't you get one of those, um...sleepover events? I bet lots of nuggets would spend a fortune for a night with gory beheaded brides.”
“Because,” Elara replied. “those gory beheaded brides also have the right to live in a nugget-free environment, you dafty.”
Elara managed to drive away the noisy crowd during sunset and closed the gate. She also closed a curtain to avoid seeing them protesting outside, and closed some more to avoid curious peeking tourists after dark. Having released a long sigh, Elara gazed, in a deep trance, at the swiftly dancing dusts apparent in a gentle ray of light, the dim roar of the wind and the sound of the rowdy tourists as well as the drum-beatings in her heart forming an ensemble of a queer orchestra.
The great hall was empty, filled only with peculiar furniture and bookshelves lined from floor to ceiling. All the invisible apparitions hid in the dusk of the building, whispering and giggling, ready for their usual night of wild revelry.