"I’m really glad you could get together with me for a sleepover. We haven’t done this in a while.” Eve said, checking her now sparkly strawberry red nails under the lamp.
“Yeah, I guess. By the way just… what do we do now?” Emma said, blowing on her red nails. Eve had recently received Super Ruby Passion nail polish for her birthday.
“I don’t know.” Neither of them had boyfriends or any romantic interest in anyone to gossip about, they’d done their hair and nails, already had pizza for dinner, and had since run out of conversation topics. “Wanna watch TV?”
“Sure. What’s on?” Tuning into a mindless late-night talk show, Eve and Emma sat in bored silence, yet neither one was tired enough to go to bed yet.
“Is this it? Have both of our lives peaked so tragically early?” Emma said in an overly dramatic tone, flipping back on the bed with a sigh. “Friday night and we’re stuck in with nothing better to do than watch TV?”
“Maybe you should wait a while before proclaiming life to be over. We can’t even drive yet.” Eve pointed out.
“Hey, speak for yourself. You just turned sixteen, you can drive.” Emma said.
“I don’t have a license yet. Dad’s just started teaching me to drive.” Eve explained.
“Excuses!” Emma sniffed playfully, dismissing her friend with a wave of her hand.
“What about you? Why can’t you drive yet?”
“I’m only fifteen!”
“Excuses!” Eve mirrored, and they both giggled. Emma got up. “I have to go to the bathroom. Be right back. Oh, could you get some more soda? We’re out.”
“Kay.” Eve got up and headed down the stairs to the kitchen. Retrieving the soda from the fridge, she hovered over a piece of chocolate cake or an apple. “Hmmm… I’ll be bad tonight.” Grabbing the piece of chocolate cake, she turned then jumped as she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.
“Yaaah! Oh. Just me.” she muttered, staring at her reflection in the mirror on the wall. Shaking her head, she turned into the hallway when she was grabbed from behind, a strange smelling cloth shoved onto her mouth and nose.
Eve tried to struggle and scream, but the arms held tight across her neck and face. Flailing wildly to hit her assailant, she felt everything start to go dark and numb. She tried to take a deep breath for the loudest scream she could, she at least had to warn Emma. Which proved to be her last mistake; now Eve slipped into a dull sleep. Distantly, she felt a sharp pinch in her chest, followed by a dull throbbing and spreading coldness. She knew she had to get up and do something about it, but lying down to sleep proved too irresistible. Growing ever weaker, the grey in front of her eyes faded to black and she closed her eyes for the final time.
__________________________________________
Hectors Everhope's death came as a shock to everyone, not least himself. One moment he was in his study, seven words into the 24 sentences of the final chapter of his new book, "And the darkness swallowed the sky whole.", and the next he was dead.
What a tragedy. His mind echoed feebly as his consequences slipped away.
The funeral was attended by close family and acquaintances but not many friends. Hectors was not a very well-liked figure in the publishing world. For although the books he wrote. Tales of magic, mystery, and wonder, often reared their heads into the best sellers list of the time, he had the disquieting habit of insulting people with inappropriate jokes and then laughing at their shock. It also didn't help that he, just like Anastasia, tended to be a bit of a loner. Not anti-social per se but certainly a man that preferred the company of a good book in front of a roaring fire, rather than the pleasures the nightlife had to offer.
It was at Hector's funeral however that Anastasia caught sight of the gentleman with the large fedora. He was standing under the shade of a large tree, right behind the priest that was conducting the funeral, and away from the crowd. He sported a large coat that was all buttoned up despite the warmth of the afternoon. A pair of thick leather gloves and boots covered his hands and feet, and he wore a black fedora hat that covered his hair and hanged low over his gigantic sunglasses. His only discernable feature was his black midnight skin, which even Anastasia could see from her position at the far side of the grave.
Anastasia tried to steal glances at the man, intrigued by his appearance. She attempted to be as discrete as possible hoping that she would not notice her. But then like he knew he was being observed, he turned and walked through the rows of headstones and disappeared.
After the funeral, Anastasia and her parents traveled back to her deads uncle's house, over a stone-crafted bridge, and along a narrow road that cuts through thick woodland. The gates were heavy and huge and open, welcoming them into the estate
The grounds were vast and the house was like a mansion. There was an extra door in the living room, a door disguised as a large painting, that depicted a battle from the 3rd world war. It connected the main living room to the kitchen and the bed chambers right up on the second floor. Allowing for someone to traverse the house with ease.
When she was younger Anastasia liked to think that no one knew about this door, not even Hector himself. It was a secret passage like the one's in novels she had read, and she would use it to create adventures in her head. Stories about haunted houses, lost treasures, and dark secrets. This passageway will always be her escape root and the imaginary villains in her tales would always be dumbfounded by her sudden and mysterious disappearance.
But now this door. This secret passage stood open and there was a constant stream of people passing through it, and she was saddened that this little piece of magic had been taken from her.
Tea and juice were served, along with biscuits that were passed along on top of silver trays and Anastasia watched the Reyes greedily eyeing the surroundings.
The major topic of hushed conversation was the will. Hector was never a man that inspired or even demonstrated any affection, so no one could predict who will inherit his huge fortune. Anastasia could see the greed seep into the watery eyes of her father's younger brother, a terrible fat man named Jason, as he nodded sadly and pocketed the silverware when he thought that no one was looking. Jason wife was a fairly unlikeable woman of
Spanish descent, with sharp features and an even sharper tongue, named Isabella. She drifted around the room and through the crowd, deep in unconvincing grief looking for gossip and digging for scandal. Her son did his best to ignore everyone in the crowd, including Anastasia. Samuel Reyes was Anastasia's only cousin, at 15 years old he was quiet, prone to anger, and stood in stark contrast to her.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
While Anastasia was short, thin, and with long brown hair that reached down her back, Samuel was tall, bulky, with spike raven hair like a hedgehog and arms that resembled tree trunks, ready to crush anything on their way. Apart from their brown eyes, no one could guess that Samuel was related to her. She liked that, it was the only thing about him that she liked.
After a while, she left them to their petty gossip and poison-filled words and went on a walk. The corridors of her uncle's house were long and aligned with paintings. The floors were made out of polished dark wood and the house smelled of age. Not musty exactly, but experienced. She liked to wonder what those walls and those floors had witnessed in their long time standing in this house. All the secrets they held and the things they saw over the years, and she was sudden to think that she was like a faint whisper to them. Here at one moment, gone the next.
Hector had been a good uncle, rude and irresponsible at times, yes but he was also witty and a whole lot of fun. When everyone took him seriously Anastasia was privy to the secret hand gestures and half-smiles she would through in her way when nobody was looking. She liked his humor and his intelligence and the way he didn't care what other people thought of him. She hoped she could be like that, she wished she didn't care so much about what others thought of her and being able to express what she liked without embarrassment, though now was not the time to be thinking about those types of things. Overall Hector was a great uncle to her and he had taught her a lot. She was glad that he had been in her life, even if it wasn't for long.
Anastasia ascended the staircase, pushed open the door to Hector's study, and stepped inside. One wall was filled with the framed covers of all his bestsellers, which shared space with all manners of literary awards and paintings. All the other walls were made up of shelves jammed with all kinds of books. They were adventure stories, historical novels, science fiction books, physiological tomes, religious texts, and they were battered little paperbacks staffed in-between. One low-hanging shelf was filled to the brim with magazines and reviews of his books, while another housed an assortment of different texts written in strange characters. Some appeared to be written in Mandarin or perhaps Japanese, though Anastasia couldn't tell the difference. Others, Anastasia could recognize as being written in greek, but again he wasn't able to tell if they were in ancient or modern Greek.
Her grandmother had tried to teach all of her children, and grandchildren for that matter, the Greek language and alphabet hoping to keep their family traditions alive and keep them connected to their roots.
All to varying degrees of success. Both her father and his siblings were quite adept at the language. They could recite basic phrases with ease and hold a simple conversation with little to no problem, they could even write a bit, though only the very basics and even then not without a hefty amount of grammatical errors. As for Anastasia, she had never managed to get a hold of it, only learning the basic alphabet and the occasional curse from her grandmother, though she would never dare admit it to her or someone else for that matter.
Anastasia passed the shelf that housed all the first edition of Hector's novels and approached his desk. She looked at the chair where he die and tried to imagine what he must have felt. Did he feel shocked, pain, sadness, regret, or maybe something else entirely? And then a voice so soft that could have been made of silk said.
"At least he died doing what he loved. Not something every man has the luxury to say." She turned surprised to find an unknown man standing by the door.
"Yeah, I suppose that's true." Said Anastasia shyly, not knowing what else to say. After a few seconds, she gathered some courage and asked "Were you a friend of his?"
The man. The old man Anastasia now notice, answered with a nod from his head before he began talking.
"I am. I met him at the graveyard, where he is now buried. Ironic I suppose but what can you do? Such is life. And you. Are his niece that I heard so much about?"
She nodded, feeling more comfortable now, and she used that opportunity to take a better look at this mysterious man. He was tall and thin and sported a long black suit. He looked friendly and he had a warm smile that reminded her of her grandfather. She loved her grandfather, but sadly just like Hector he had left this earth way too soon for her liking.
Anastasia could feel her chicks getting red and her eyes becoming moist. She had thought that had run out when she first heard the news about Hector's death, but as it turns out she was wrong. Still, he held back. She didn't want to cry in front of a stranger, she didn't wish to embarrass herself, so she held back her tears and manage to hide her sadness, before giving a confirmative nod to the man.
"Anastasia if my memory serves me right. Yes?"
"Yeah" she replied weakly, still holding back tears.
"Hectors used to talk a lot about you, you know."
"He did?"
"Yes. Hector would boast about his little niece to whoever was willing to lend an ear. Your uncle was a very unique individual, with a very extraordinary character. It seems like you are too?"
"You speak as if you know me."
"Kind, witty, intelligent, and stubborn remind you of anybody in particular."
"Hector"
"How peculiar." Said the man "Because those are the exact words he used to describe you."
His fingers dipped down into his breast pocket before pulling out an ornate pocket watch that hanged from a golden chain.
"Speaking of it's time I go. It was nice seeing you."
"Excuse me, but what's your name?" Asked Anastasia, a bit more than a little confusion evident in her voice, as to why the man had to leave so suddenly.
The man didn't reply to her question, he didn't even flinch he simply smiled and said.
"Don't worry you you will find out. Something tells me this will not be the last time we meet. Bye for now." Said the man in a playful-like tone, as if cracking a joke only he could understand. And with those final words, he disappeared through the doorway and left her there, all alone amidst the tonnes of books.
Anastasia stood there for a few moments, unable to take off her eyes from the spot where the man had been.
She turned around, and run towards the only window in the office, barely in time to see a red car exiting the estate.
Who was that man?