Speak Now Storyteller

There was one last door left unexplored. It was so unlike the other doors, it was as if whoever came to care for the Manor left this door just as untouched as they did the land around the Atwood Manor. The outside looked dark and twisted, the trees overran the grounds, the iron gate was dark and rusted, the light posts, tangled in roots and vines. There was no way she was going to venture the outside grounds by herself, especially with Atwood Manor being pushed so far back into the forest. It was creepy enough. But this door…creepy doors were different. Kind of.

Yasmine twisted the bronze doorknob and the door creaked open. She half expected it to be locked. She pushed the door open further only to see… more stairs. That was fine with her, she was going to see what was up there anyway. With a deep breath, the young woman climbed the stairs to the landing. It was dark and unlike the rest of the house, extremely cluttered and dusty. The only light was a dimming candelabra. The dark curtains blocked the moonlight from the large window at the end of the room.

The dark room contained lots of… junk. There were trunks pushed into corners, one of them held old dresses that seemed similar to the ones in one of the rooms downstairs. Just not nearly as nice. Another trunk held moth eaten clothes fit for a young boy.

“Hmm, I wonder why these clothes aren’t as nice as the ones downstairs.”

There were also a few family portraits, none of which looked professionally done similar to the ones hanging on the walls in the corridors. Old paintbrushes, easels and caked up paints were stashed in wooden crates. Perhaps one of the Atwood’s painted? Of course the fairy tale she kept near and dear to her heart did not detail much outside of the regular story but it would be nice to know. Hanging on the wall was a ripped portrait of a person. They were slashed right across the face, the only part she could clearly see was the green of their eyes, they were so intense, so arrogant that she as she attempted to the fit the pieces together, she couldn’t help but to dislike the handsome face.

“Hmm.”

Who destroyed this portrait? Who removed it from the wall in the corridor? These questions were quickly forgotten as something near the window caught her eye. Sitting near the window was a tall bedside table, atop that table was something golden slightly hidden beneath a cloth. Yasmine tilted her head in curiosity and removed the cloth.

“An hourglass… it’s so beautiful.”

The hourglass was golden, as if it was shined and buffed everyday. There were three columns connecting the top to the bottom and the glass cups held tiny grains of sand. However, the weird thing was, was that the sand sat at the very top of the hourglass unmoving. The sand was not falling the way it should. Yasmine bit her lip wondering if she  should touch it, but why not? She lifted the beautiful object and stared at the sand trapped in the top half. If she just shook it, the grain should start to move.

Just as she started to shake the hourglass, she froze feeling hot air against her neck. Her brown eyes widened in fear, she clutched the object tight prepared to use it as a weapon.

“What are you doing in here?” The voice was deep, gruff, inhuman and animalistic. Her breath caught in her throat at the voice and it took everything in her not to scream in fright. “Do not make me ask you again.”

The figured moved from behind her and stood before the dark curtains. His form was hidden from her but it was large, tall and wrong. It… couldn’t be human.

“I-I was j-just looking. I didn’t mean any harm.”

The figure growled, it actually growled at her before snatching the hourglass from her hands. She jumped back, a yelp escaping her throat at the abnormal hands… no paws… claws? that jumped out at her.

“Wh-what are you?”

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This is sort of kind of a scene from a book I’m working on and it worked for this free write. I wonder if the story it’s based on is easy to figure out.