The Chair's Secret

   Old, tired and worn out, that is what I am.
My legs are not straight any more and my colour is fading. I don't know how old you are but if you are close to my age and also a male, your legs are probably not beautiful either!

   Legs are strange things, don't you think so? At the start mine were very elegant, even for me not being female. But at the time I was born, men were far more elegant than today with white silk stockings decorated with ribbons; and velvet trousers and jackets. And expensive white wigs and lots of jewellery to show their wealth and status. Their shoes... very elegant with silver, sometimes even golden buckles. Of course I never wore shoes or stockings. My legs were always bare, only covered in white paint with a golden glow in the groins.
I was dressed in brocade with gold thread. Can you believe how beautiful this was? Particularly when the sun shone on it or with candlelight. The flickering flames brought the gold to live. If... only if I was on my own and not used.
Yes, people used me. I hope you are not thinking that this is the same as being abused.
   Maybe I have to explain that I am not a human being, I am a chair. These days an elegant chair as I am might not be too useful and only to show off but back then my fellow chairs were the same.

   Being a chair is quite eventful. There are so many different.... uhm .. bottoms that made use of me. Not everyone in the very old days was tiny or slim. At least not in my castle. The older they got the bigger their bottoms. I dreaded the huge matrons trying to wriggle them selves between my arms. They pretended to be slim but they were not, still they wanted to sit on me. Can you imagine how that felt? First of all you see her coming, her perfume floating miles ahead of her (perfume was used to hide the not so fresh body odour, another challenge for a chair...). You have good hopes that she decides I am too small but no. She stops in front of you, turns around and oh my.... Do I have to go into detail?

   It was not all misery. I (still) live in a grand castle and I am told there are or were, many more of me in many rooms. And all served numerous bottoms of generations of owners and guests. Fortunately once in so many years we were reupholstered and our seats refreshed with new horse hair and singles to carry another generation.
But then came the day that changed our lives......

   I already heard rumours going round about the great financial losses of my owner.
I need to say I wasn't too surprised; so much money was spent on gambling, drinking, parties and mistresses. The rows with his bookkeeper and wife got worse and worse. I never understood anything about his business but from the furious conversations in my presence, I knew that the money that was going out was a lot more then that what came in.
   His wife was often in tears; she did not get any credit any more at her suppliers and thought she already spent her life in poverty. Which I doubted, but I could not say anything of course.
But my owner did not listen and said he was going to earn all the money back, people owed him large sums. He did not mention however, that these people were also almost bankrupt due to their gambling addiction telling their wives the same story!
   I witnessed my owner from being a wealthy man with mistresses, a wife and children, becoming a desperate poor castle owner; his life at risk due to his debts.

   One evening, during one of the numerous meetings with his bookkeeper (a very loyal man who worked for the company and family much longer than he remembered), someone knocked at the door. Not a polite or gentle knock! It was more banging, driven by a huge anger....
The butler tried to stop the visitor but by the sound of his scared voice, the visitor made his way to our room. The door flung open and there he stood; the man who lend a huge amount of money to my owner and who wanted every penny back. Right now and here. And he was furious!!
Debts do strange things to people. Either they become cool blooded monsters to get their money back or they become crying desperate pathetic little men, not being able to pay back.
   Of course you want to know who the latter was.... it was the bookkeeper of all people. And it was not even his fault!
While the other two man challenged each other's anger and power, the bookkeeper crawled backwards to a corner, one hand in front of his face, the other pushed forward with wide spread fingers as to protect himself.
When he passed me, I noticed a terrible smell and saw that he wet himself in fear. I felt so very sorry for the man but also understood his fear, I too saw the two pistols in the hands of the other men and knew it was only a matter of time before we were going to hear the first shot.

 Again the door flung open and the butler catapulted himself into the room, the brave man.
It made the other two turn to the door and then, completely unexpected, one of the guns went of. It was such a chaos that I still don't know who's gun, but I still remember who got killed....
 I promised myself and everyone, never to mention a name or gender, never! But I can tell you that it was not the butler, not the bookkeeper (who fainted when he heard the shot) and not the two other men.

 The smell of blood competed with that of gunpowder and seemed extra strong in the one minute of complete silence in which everyone tried to come round with what happened. Then there was shouting and desperate whispering about what to do next. The butler was summoned to close and lock the door and he obeyed like he had done for 40 years.
 All three men now discussed what to do with the body of that very unfortunate intruder who (and this was accidentally very fortunate) would not be missed being one of the most unpleasant creatures walking on two legs in this part of the world.

   While the discussion went on, I looked at the bookkeeper and noticed his very strange pale complexion. I wanted to attract the attention of the other three men but nobody paid any attention to me and I sighed a very deep and desperate sigh, feeling old and useless.
   The men came to an agreement; my owner walked to the door in the corner of the room, more a cupboard door then a real door because it was made just above the panelling. I knew this door led to a very small room with a secret passage to deep inside the castle and only the owner of the castle knew about it's existence.
But this was a different situation and owing the other man so much money, he showed him where they could hide the body and where it most likely, wouldn't be found for a long time, if ever.

   The next hour the men were busy moving the body, pushing it through the little door and believe me, this wasn't an easy thing to do! The deceased was not very petite!
Finally they disappeared into the small room and it did not take long before all the sounds of huffing and puffing, faded away.
   By the time they returned I worked out myself that the bookkeeper was not 'amongst us' any more and most likely died because of a heart attack. Or just pure fear. Whatever the cause was, he was dead too.
You might think that this was a real shock to my owner but I underestimated his empathy. He watched the poor dead man for a while, then sighed in relief and fell backwards on top of me. And this is when my legs cracked but he did not notice it. He leaned forwards, thinking of what he was going to do next.
   At least I have to give him credit for wanting a descent funeral for the poor man who left a wife, children and grandchildren.
Before they carried him out of the room, my owner lifted me and put me in front of the little door he carefully sealed, mentioning me of not being of any use to anyone any more.
   I watched them walking away, carrying the bookkeeper who's dangling head and arms moved in the rhythm of the footsteps of the others; the butler holding his feet.

   Within a few months time, the family left the castle. Many of their belongings were sold to pay off the debts but some uninteresting items were left to keep me company.
   The last I heard was the lock of the door; I was on my own and remained this for ages until a few years back when a group of young people entered the long abandoned castle, calling themselves 'urban explorers'.

   They managed to open the door and entered the room, surprised to find the odd things but disappointed that it was not hiding any secrets.
And why moving an old chair with crooked legs when it was not in the way of the door to another room? They passed me on their tour through the rest of the castle, leaving me with that terrible secret I never learned to live with.

Photo: @marshallubx (Instagram)

   A secret like a monstrous lump, growing and growing in my memory and body. When it is going to burst? I don't know. Maybe you will find me one day, asking yourself why I look if I exploded.
   But even then you will not know it was that secret that finally came out. You will not stand still to listen to the name of the dead person, whispered by the horse hair sticking out of the large hole in my seat.....

Word of thanks: the photo of @marshallubx (Instagram)) inspired me to write this story and I was given permission to use the photo as an illustration for which I am very grateful. Thank you Marshall!

Links: please visit the beautiful Instagram account of @marshallubx

Note: the story is pure fiction! A figment of my imagination!

Helen

The Diva

   The cacophony in his head was the deafening opposite of the stillness around him. Her voice, loud en clear, overruled everything. Something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

   He sat at the red comfortable chair with the soft lining which was designed for his needs. And this indeed, was very expensive. Each chair on it's own was £ 1500. Ridiculous amount of money, fortunately it were only 6 and not a whole theatre. But even then he had been more than willing to pay for them.

    While leaning backwards, he modified the chair to his own comfort and allowed his thoughts to wander off, hoping that thinking about her might also reduce the noise that swirled round and round with false tones.

    He recalled her face and hoped this time it would be calm although he knew the main feature of it was her mouth and that was never calm. How stupid to have fallen in love with that same mouth which was at the time her attraction, particularly to him being a bachelor who lived on his own for too long.

    He met her at the birthday party of his best friend. He never meant to go but this was friend's 40^th birthday and a 'Bal Masqué'. He liked that, he did not often appear in public and definitely not at parties but this way he was going to be slightly incognito. Not that he was easily recognized because he was famous (which he wasn't) but he just did not like large crowds.

And one other thing was that he was extremely rich and women, particularly single women, had a nose for money. They smelled it and immediately behaved like cats in heat, something he hated! It made him immune for the female species. But with a masque he would be fairly safe.

    Blame the masque that he fell for her mouth. Of course it was the most visible part of her face apart from her chin which revealed a determined character but that is not what he noticed. No, it was her mouth as beautiful as a rose in full bloom. He wasn't a poet but the phrase 'a rose in the morning dew' crossed his mind. He watched it from a distance and could not take his eyes of it.

    Her lips were so fascinating that the world around him disappeared. He stood in the middle of a universe without sounds and people. The space was empty and in this emptiness floated her mouth with the moving lips like wings as if they weren't attached to her.

    The thin air around him wasn't cold but warm and comfortable. He couldn't remember if her mouth made his blood boil or the warm thin air. Or both, he did remember he fell in love, deeply in love, without being introduced to her.

    The mist dissolved and very slowly the sounds of tinkling champagne glasses laughter and conversations returned.

A male voice next to him asked him if he was alright and without turning round to the man he said he was fine and added: “thank you for asking.”

    He shook his head an realized he must look like a fool although the beautiful mouth smiled and moved towards him. It was then when he noticed it belonged to a woman almost as tall as he was. He looked into green eyes behind a very simple but expensive masque. A warm voice said: “I don't think we met before”. When he agreed, they exchanged names and started a conversation. He needed all his willpower to listen to her words (which were many) and not to fix his eyes on her lips. Although he had relationships before with women he went to bed with, he never had the desire to kiss them the very first moments of their first meetings but now he only wanted one thing: kissing her. And not a social kiss, or a kiss between two friends no, he wanted to press his lips against hers until she opened her mouth to welcome him. He wanted his tongue to dance with hers in an erotic rhythm and he did not care he was at the birthday party!

    With these memories he moved in his chair, a little restless because his emotions balanced between relief and grief and he did not feel comfortable with both. Why did he marry her so soon? He surprised family, friends and society. Even the newspapers that never wrote about him before, headlined “Most desired bachelor found his Eva” (why on earth did his parents name him Adam...)

    She did not only have a beautiful mouth but also brains and organisation talents. In no time she organized their wedding and sent out numerous invitations to people he had never heard of before and who she called 'colleagues' or friends. If he had not been so very much in love at the time, inviting these people who were mainly in the showbizz, must have set off numerous alarm bells. But the bells kept quiet and only rang when it was far too late.

    It did not take her long after the marriage to convince him of her many talents like performing, singing and being an actress of high level. Well, not discovered yet but with his help (read; money and status, after all he did not only have a double barrelled name, no, he had three names and a long forgotten title) she was finally going to break through.

    Strangely enough he never heard her singing (not even in the shower but this might have been because the always showered together), nor seen her performing. And when it finally happened, in full public in the music room in his Manor, he was shocked. Not just a little bit but deeply shocked. At first he could not believe how a beautiful mouth and a warm sensual voice like hers, produced a noise that could only be described as an old unmaintained unidentifiable agricultural machine that tried to plough it's way through sticky clay.

    It was awful, terrible, shocking and above all embarrassing because she did not stop! She went on and on, looking over the heads of the poor spectators that were too polite to cover their ears wit their hands.

He wanted to crawl under his chair, fly to the ceiling, dissolve in thin air (maybe not a wise thing to do), everything to move away from her singing as far as possible. And by the look of their guests, every body had the same idea. And even so more the so called 'colleagues and friends' from their wedding party.

    Even after all those years his cheeks turned red in embarrassment. And what ever he tried to stop her, to convince her to search for other talents (she must have at least one he hoped), she kept believing she was The Star the world was waiting for. He sighed and was the producer that organized her first official concert, still thankful. Agreed, they planned it together to make her see that the large audience wasn't at all polite enough to let her go on. People who paid for her performance were most likely going to shout and whistle.

    Fortunately for her, it never happened. Yes, she was going to perform, people were waiting for her to enter the stage but when she did, her high healed shoe got strangled in her enormous dress of which the skirt was made of numerous layers of lace. Before someone could offer help, she fell off the platform in between the people of the orchestra and indeed, broke her neck.

Her audience still wanted their money back but not before the next day because they thought it was part of her act and applauded and laughed.......

Photo: @marshallubx (Instagram)

   

   In the old abandoned and forgotten Manor his now fading and decaying private theatre with the red chairs and curtains (the colour of her mouth) the blue walls and the large mirror instead of a scene decoration is the only witnesses of his desire to stare at the reflections of an empty stage, empty chairs and to absorb the valuable and admirable stillness.

Word of thanks: the photo of @marshallubx (Instagram)) inspired me to write this story and I was given permission to use the photo as an illustration for which I am very grateful. Thank you Marshall!

Links: please visit the beautiful Instagram account of @marshallubx

Note: the story is pure fiction! A figment of my imagination!

Helen

The Other Door (short story)

    The bond with her great-great-great-grandfather Walwyn Randal Norvin Kenrick (well chosen first names) was very strong.
Most likely because they shared a strong will and stubborn and brave character, something that had been missing for generations of offspring; not my words but those of Walwyn. Yet I agree with him, I served many generations of this family whose history goes back to the Vikings.

   This great-great-great-granddaughter was the first female descendant of the old Walwyn and I expected him to be disappointed it was a girl who inherited his warrior genes. But he wasn't, he was over the moon when he saw her soft blond hair with the red glow. He almost howled like the wolf in his coat of arms. He ran through the castle, kissed every female (who still wonder where the light touch came from) he passed and returned to the nursery where he looked in great admiration to mother and child. He loved the mother from the moment she set foot in the castle. Unfortunately he could not pet himself on the shoulder for arranging this marriage – it was outside his restrictions – but someone somewhere must have arranged it from above. One day he was going to thank this Angel.

   And now this useless, lazy, ignorant great-great-grandson and his wife produced a female copy of him. And lo and behold, one of the names of the child was the female version of his own Randal: she was named Edrea Randall Bedelia.

Little Edrea and old Walwyn developed a bond from the very first moment; even before she saw him, the little child was aware of his existence. Her mother knew there was something in the nursery where her daughter reacted to but it did not feel bad and with her Welsh roots, she knew there was more between heaven and earth.

   The father who was mentally not fit to cope with the character of his wife, let alone that of his daughter, spent more and more time elsewhere; hunting, gambling and drinking with his friends. His wife who tried everything to keep her husband at home and who learned to hate his lifestyle, gave all her love to her daughter and it was no surprise to everyone in the castle that there were no other babies.

   It was a very strange household: the mother with her beautiful child and enough staff to serve 10 times more people. Life centred in a few rooms, all others were closed until the guests for the annual hunting games arrived; the one and only time his lordship was at home.

    When Edrea (who was a curious and studios girl) grew up, she explored the castle.
A few rooms were closed and in others the furniture was covered in white sheets against the dust. Her interest in the previous use of the rooms was touching, it was as if the history made her blood boil. Holding her favourite doll tightly in her arms, she told it she was going to bring the castle back to its original glory but that her father had to die first as Mummy once cried that he was spending all the money and if there came no end to it, they would be poor as a church mouse in no time. Not that Edrea ever saw a church mouse but with Mummy being so very sad, it must be extremely poor.

   The little girl did not know what she was thinking and wishing, yet her wish was fulfilled when she was 10 years old and riding her pony during the hunting event. For the first time her father showed some interest in his daughter who looked so self assured in her riding outfit. Everybody who looked at her saw what a beautiful woman she was going to be. Father and daughter guided their horses in a slightly different direction than most of the hunters. No one could tell why they did it, who's idea it was because after the accident Edrea did not say a word about what happened.
   She came back alone, a straight back and no emotions when she told one of the footman to get some help while she was going to see her mother to tell her “father was thrown of his horse and not breathing any more”.

   Edrea nor her mother cried a tear about the loss. They never spoke about it either, at least not in front of other people. The mother took over the finances and after a year of sleepless nights, paying creditors and talking to all staff members she managed to save the castle from it's downfall. We all admired her for her effort and our loyalty to her was stronger than ever.

    It was around this time that I decided it was the right moment to arrange a meeting between Walwyn and Edrea. Yes, you are right, they knew each other already but they never met in his world.

    At one day Edrea found the door of one of the rooms that was always closed, open. You might think it was odd that she never asked why it was closed, to whom it belonged or what was in it. She only tried the doorknob once and never again in the following 6 years. But today she walked into the room as if she knew it was open and waiting for her. In a sense it was, I arranged it.

    She looked round and walked to the large chest that stood open. She closed the lid and sat down on it; her feet crossed and her hands folded. Very much at ease she absorbed the atmosphere in the room where the family stored old belongings that were not used any more. She looked at her pram and smiled raising her hand if she wanted to touch it but she was to far away.

   “Hello grandfather Walwyn”, she spoke. “I am glad it is time to meet you. Will you guide me?” Walwyn smiled, opened his arms and looked at me for approval. I nodded, it was indeed the right moment.

    The two people with so many generations in between but so alike, walked hand in hand in my direction. I opened Edrea's eyes and the door and bowed when they passed me. I carefully shot the door and waited for their return.

   The old man dressed in a purple velvet jacket, a white blouse with lace collar and sleeves, trousers just over his knees, white stockings and shiny black shoes with silver buckles, his long grey hair held together with a beautiful purple ribbon, watched the young girl that looked like a little princes in her white dress with also a purple ribbon at the back. He was so proud of her and made a promise that the man who would hurt her was going to have a miserable and timely death; he did not hesitate a year ago and he would not hesitate doing it again. Particularly with this precious descendent at his side; they proved to be a good team.......


   I stand here in reflection, my heart full of melancholy.

When I think of Edrea I have to admit I fell in love with her. She was not only beautiful but also kind and generous. The people who were honest to her, knew they found a very loyal friend. She was never tired of looking after them in any way she could think of. They were always welcome in the castle and there was always food and a bed available to those who made a long journey to see her.

Photo: @marshallubx (Instagram)

  
   She did keep her promise to restore the castle to it's former glory. I can not tell you how she did it but somehow it happened, probably with the help of Walwyn who knew the castle so well and who revealed all it's secrets to her.
   Walwyn kept his promise to protect Edrea who's marriage only lasted a few months before her husband died. There were no children.
  
   Edrea moved permanently to Walwyn's world a very long time ago. And to you it might look if the caste is abandoned but you can be very mistaken. Maybe you are related to the two people I loved most in my life, who knows. I hope so!

   Try.... stand in front of me and tell me if you too see in me the light behind the other door to the other world.....

Word of thanks: the photo of @marshallubx (Instagram)) inspired me to write this story and I was given permission to use the photo as an illustration for which I am very grateful. Thank you Marshall!

Links: please visit the beautiful Instagram account of @marshallubx

Note: the story is pure fiction! A figment of my imagination!

Helen