This particular combination delighted me. It works so well for so many of my characters and ongoing Works in Progress. Plus you may have noticed this Cauldron has a bit of a floral theme.
Once more, I found myself thinking of 'On the Other Side of the Mask'. It's been put aside for so many other stories only too often. It's a story I mean to finish one day about the gray city of Paradise ruled by the Pale Lords and the two boys who boldly take on the names of infamous poets from another world in order to claim some measure of freedom.
This story was my homage to nineteenth century artists and literature that I love. At the same time, I tried to create an Alternate World, connected to ours, yet separate.
I just talked to one of my favorite writers, Elizabeth Bear about this story. Her encouragement was enough to make me bounce around like a cartoon character. :) (shy grin) It meant a lot to receive it.
Being encouraged by one of my literary idols means I can't leave 'On the Other Side of the Mask' alone. It must go forward.
Here's a little story from Shelley's perspective. He already caught within the mind bending labyrinth of Lord Ruthvyn's estate, confronting Nathaniel, one of Lord Ruthvyn's servants.
“For you.” Nathaniel reached down to pluck a pink rose from the bush with his gloved hand.
He offered it to me, smiling, revealing laugh lines which soften his doll like perfection with humanity.
Nathaniel was more Lord Ruthvyn’s poppet than a person in his immaculate white lace shirts, velvet coats, and breeches. Often he concealed his delicate features with a wide variety of masks.
He chose to expose his face today or did he?
I reached up to finger my own lace collar. I was slowly turning into a doll like Nathaniel. To be taken down and played with whenever Lord Ruthvyn wished.
Sadness softened the darkened blue sapphire of Nathaniel’s eyes. He dropped his head, still holding out the rose. Anticipating rejection. Unable to keep himself from reaching out to someone with anything.
I stretched my arm up to touch the rose. Nathaniel was several inches taller than me. I still managed to curl my fingers around his.
They trembled on the stem, not letting go.
“I cannot accept this.” I made my voice as kind as I could. “Not without knowing what you wish for in return.”
“What *I* wish for?” Nathaniel released the rose, breaking free of my grip.
The flower fell to the ground, scattering a few pink petals upon impact with the pebbled path.
“Do you think I’m allowed to wish for anything?” Nathaniel withdrew his hand to lay it against his own breast. “All I can do is carry out the wishes of our master.” His smile disappeared from his lips along with any trace of humanity. “He simply wanted me to welcome his lovely little songbird.”
“You were the one who chose to offer me a rose.” I glanced at the fallen flower between us. “Or did Lord Ruthvyn command you to welcome me in such a fashion?”
“Meaning my interpretatios of his will are my own?” Nathaniel allowed his lips to twitch once more. “Ah, Shelley, you still strive to be like the otherworldly poet outside of Paradise whose name you claimed.” He stretched out his gloved hand once more to almost touch my cheek. “Always you beat your beak against our cage, seeking any sign of freedom.”
He withdrew his fingers. Perhaps he thought better of touching me. “There is no escape. Not from our master’s estate. Not for you. Not for your Byron.”
He stilled his mouth into expressionless perfection, devoid of amusement. “The sooner both of you realize it, the happier you will be.”
“You want me to be happy?” I ask, bewildered by this turn of phrase.
Nathaniel raised a finger to shake it at my mistake.
“Ah, your master wishes me to be happy?” I corrected myself.
“For the moment.” Nathaniel lowered his hand. “Later he may want you to cry. He’s forgotten how to do so himself.” He gazed into my eyes, striving to appear serene, but he cannot hide the liquid turmoil gathering behind his lids.
Nathaniel resembled me in his slenderness, his amber hair, and troubled gaze. Nathaniel was the doll I was in peril of becoming if I allowed Lord Ruthvyn to win. To truly possess me.
“Remember, Shelley, it’s far better to be one of the master’s prized songbirds than to become one of his many sacrificial lambs.” Nathaniel raised a painted eyebrow. “Ask the paintings and the statues.” He let out another sharp, stinging laugh. “Ask your own reflection.”
He turned his back on me, leaving me in the heart of Lord Ruthvyn’s garden, at the center of a maze I might never find my way out of.
Not if I didn’t plead for help. If I didn’t ask for it on bended knee, acknowledging Lord Ruthvyn as my master.
Nathaniel was my enemy, something I could never forget. No matter how much I might pity him.
He’d already given himself up.
Wow! Amazing. And I love it when artists inspire one another. Authors seem like the most general people in the world (mostly ~grin~). Happy Writing!
ReplyDeleteThank you! Glad you enjoyed it! This is one of the things I love most about social media, being able to inspire each other. Paula has been a generous source of inspiration with her weekly prompts. Happy Writing to you, too! Thanks for stopping by!
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