September 23rd - Early Morning - Isabella
Dear God in Heaven, I must have fully lost my mind!
What happened to me this morning I can scarcely separate from the dreams brought on by laudanum, and what I now contemplate seems something that surely no sane an would consider.
I cannot even discuss this with Mr. Gray, for he would be bound to report it to the Bell-man, despite being one of the few beings who would understand.
On this eventful day I awoke well before dawn after a restless night, throughout which I had heard bells like those used by the man who had earlier sent away the pestering dead. Mr. Gray was surprised at how early I awoke, but as sleep has little comfort for the dead, he was, as usual, ready for my needs.
There was a knock at my door. It was Mrs. Hutchins, my housekeeper who told me that a young lady wished to pay a visit. I bade her bring the damsel upstairs. Mrs Hutchins obvious disapproval of young girl coming unchaperoned to my apartment was perhaps somewhat alleviated by the girl’s abrupt and business-like manner.
She was a delicate thing, seemingly not much more than fifteen, yet she moved with the same sort of battleship assurance as my Great Aunt Mathilda. Her face and hands were bone white, giving her the appearance of doll made from fine Bisque china, though her cheeks had a slight flush, perhaps from her brisk walk in the early morning air.
As she raised her hand for my lips, as protocol demands, she looked along that slim limb into my eyes and I realized that despite her apparent seeming this child may well have experienced more of life than I.
“Mr. Beaufort, we need to talk” she announced.
“Please, come in.” I replied, ushering her to the lounging area, which Mr. Gray and his friends had kept tidy.
I closed the door while thanking Mrs. Hutchins, and assuring her that all was well. ...
Isabella tells Sebastian who killed his family - more to come…...
Seeing my resolve, Isabella seemed to reach a decision.
“You will need more power, to do this thing” she declared.
“I was planning on using some of yours, but if it is your intention to avenge your family yourself, you will need some of mine. As you say, it is no easy feat to pierce a heart with a wooden stake.”
As she spoke she was unbuttoning the cuffs of her dress, exposing her wrist. I briefly wondered at her intentions until they were made clear when she drew her nail down her pearly flesh. Where the nail had travelled, bright blood gushed forth. Unconcerned, Isabella held her forearm over the empty tea cup in front of her, as the sanguine liquid freely flowed. The deep red broth lapped at the rim of the white bone china, and she licked her wrists clean.
I watched in shock, mesmerized by the lascivious way this sweeting supped on her own bleeding wrist.
“Drink” she ordered.
My eyes widened even beyond the painful stretch they had already reached.
“What?” I stammered
.“Quickly, it’s better when still warm.”
“But.. you... I can’t..”
“Drink!” she repeated, handing the cup to me, the deep red contrasting against the porcelain whiteness of the tea-cup and her fingers.
I could not refuse to take the cup, but as I did so, the iron tang reached my nostrils, and the thought of what I was about to do, drinking the blood of a teenage girl, even at her own insistence repulsed me.
I went to put the cup down, and my eyes met hers. Staring into those ageless orbs, some of her coldness entered me, and my own depraved desires rose up.
Surely it was just this sort of blasphemous activity that lead Poe to pen his masterpieces.
Would I ever forgive myself if, having been given such an opportunity to taste of such a forbidden wine, I now refused the offer, freely given?
I placed the rim of the tea-cup against my lips, and sipped gingerly at the viscous fluid.
Pure Ambrosia!
Nothing so good had ever passed my lips. It did not have the salty metallic taste I had expected, it tasted like the best malt whiskey mixed with pure chocolate, it had everything I had ever found delicious, it smelt like the finest of the perfumes that Charlie brought back from Paris, like Sara’s smile when she wins an argument, like Kathy’s hair in the summer hay... words fail.
Suffice it to say that I found myself gulping that divine liquid as if I was dying of thirst. I did not want to spill or miss a single drop of that nectar, I licked the cup clean, and fell back in my chair gasping for air.
The liquid fire was still burning through my body, my body tingling as if it had been frozen and was now warming from being plunged deep into a steaming bath. I felt stronger and more awake than I ever had. Colours I had never noticed before clamoured for attention.
“What was that?” I asked, looking up.
I saw Isabella again, but with my new vision her body glowed with something I chose to call vitality.
“Just blood” she grinned. “Now, we must deal with these pesky ghosts”
Ringing one of her bells she whispered to the two sleeping ghosts Once she had left, I hurriedly cleared away the cups and anything else that made it seem like I had been entertaining a visitor, just as Isabella had instructed.
I hunted for somewhere to hide the stake she had given me, but ended up thrusting it under the seat cushion. Finally, I undressed and climbed back into my coffin. Then, taking a deep breath, I hummed the tone Isabella had taught me, and pretended to sleep as the three ghosts awoke.
Lying there, I knew I couldn’t keep up the pretence for long in front of Mr.Gray, let alone the other two ghosts, and I so resolved to spend the day out. I took my diary so I could write of my uncanny breakfast with Isabella, and now I must ensure Mr. Gray does not read these words before my gruesome task is completed.
What happened to me this morning I can scarcely separate from the dreams brought on by laudanum, and what I now contemplate seems something that surely no sane an would consider.
I cannot even discuss this with Mr. Gray, for he would be bound to report it to the Bell-man, despite being one of the few beings who would understand.
On this eventful day I awoke well before dawn after a restless night, throughout which I had heard bells like those used by the man who had earlier sent away the pestering dead. Mr. Gray was surprised at how early I awoke, but as sleep has little comfort for the dead, he was, as usual, ready for my needs.
There was a knock at my door. It was Mrs. Hutchins, my housekeeper who told me that a young lady wished to pay a visit. I bade her bring the damsel upstairs. Mrs Hutchins obvious disapproval of young girl coming unchaperoned to my apartment was perhaps somewhat alleviated by the girl’s abrupt and business-like manner.
She was a delicate thing, seemingly not much more than fifteen, yet she moved with the same sort of battleship assurance as my Great Aunt Mathilda. Her face and hands were bone white, giving her the appearance of doll made from fine Bisque china, though her cheeks had a slight flush, perhaps from her brisk walk in the early morning air.
As she raised her hand for my lips, as protocol demands, she looked along that slim limb into my eyes and I realized that despite her apparent seeming this child may well have experienced more of life than I.
“Mr. Beaufort, we need to talk” she announced.
“Please, come in.” I replied, ushering her to the lounging area, which Mr. Gray and his friends had kept tidy.
I closed the door while thanking Mrs. Hutchins, and assuring her that all was well. ...
Isabella tells Sebastian who killed his family - more to come…...
Seeing my resolve, Isabella seemed to reach a decision.
“You will need more power, to do this thing” she declared.
“I was planning on using some of yours, but if it is your intention to avenge your family yourself, you will need some of mine. As you say, it is no easy feat to pierce a heart with a wooden stake.”
As she spoke she was unbuttoning the cuffs of her dress, exposing her wrist. I briefly wondered at her intentions until they were made clear when she drew her nail down her pearly flesh. Where the nail had travelled, bright blood gushed forth. Unconcerned, Isabella held her forearm over the empty tea cup in front of her, as the sanguine liquid freely flowed. The deep red broth lapped at the rim of the white bone china, and she licked her wrists clean.
I watched in shock, mesmerized by the lascivious way this sweeting supped on her own bleeding wrist.
“Drink” she ordered.
My eyes widened even beyond the painful stretch they had already reached.
“What?” I stammered
.“Quickly, it’s better when still warm.”
“But.. you... I can’t..”
“Drink!” she repeated, handing the cup to me, the deep red contrasting against the porcelain whiteness of the tea-cup and her fingers.
I could not refuse to take the cup, but as I did so, the iron tang reached my nostrils, and the thought of what I was about to do, drinking the blood of a teenage girl, even at her own insistence repulsed me.
I went to put the cup down, and my eyes met hers. Staring into those ageless orbs, some of her coldness entered me, and my own depraved desires rose up.
Surely it was just this sort of blasphemous activity that lead Poe to pen his masterpieces.
Would I ever forgive myself if, having been given such an opportunity to taste of such a forbidden wine, I now refused the offer, freely given?
I placed the rim of the tea-cup against my lips, and sipped gingerly at the viscous fluid.
Pure Ambrosia!
Nothing so good had ever passed my lips. It did not have the salty metallic taste I had expected, it tasted like the best malt whiskey mixed with pure chocolate, it had everything I had ever found delicious, it smelt like the finest of the perfumes that Charlie brought back from Paris, like Sara’s smile when she wins an argument, like Kathy’s hair in the summer hay... words fail.
Suffice it to say that I found myself gulping that divine liquid as if I was dying of thirst. I did not want to spill or miss a single drop of that nectar, I licked the cup clean, and fell back in my chair gasping for air.
The liquid fire was still burning through my body, my body tingling as if it had been frozen and was now warming from being plunged deep into a steaming bath. I felt stronger and more awake than I ever had. Colours I had never noticed before clamoured for attention.
“What was that?” I asked, looking up.
I saw Isabella again, but with my new vision her body glowed with something I chose to call vitality.
“Just blood” she grinned. “Now, we must deal with these pesky ghosts”
Ringing one of her bells she whispered to the two sleeping ghosts Once she had left, I hurriedly cleared away the cups and anything else that made it seem like I had been entertaining a visitor, just as Isabella had instructed.
I hunted for somewhere to hide the stake she had given me, but ended up thrusting it under the seat cushion. Finally, I undressed and climbed back into my coffin. Then, taking a deep breath, I hummed the tone Isabella had taught me, and pretended to sleep as the three ghosts awoke.
Lying there, I knew I couldn’t keep up the pretence for long in front of Mr.Gray, let alone the other two ghosts, and I so resolved to spend the day out. I took my diary so I could write of my uncanny breakfast with Isabella, and now I must ensure Mr. Gray does not read these words before my gruesome task is completed.