Endless

Come. Find. Me. If. You. Are. Lost. Those were the words at the back of this…very poorly maintained photograph. Although, it had a pretty view of a ballroom at the front. Gouging her memories for that seemingly familiar place, Amanda traced it down to the Gildroy Mansion that used to host these massive parties, an ancestral residence of the Gildroy family back in the 1800s. The Gildroys were an amusing group, who adored socializing and were always up and about doing anything and everything. Fun people. 

What a tragedy, though. Missing without a trace. Threw a wonderful not-so-intimate party and the next day they were gone. All seven of them. Even the house servants were shocked to see their beds, each had pushed their covers away and wandered off somewhere. Without the Gildroys, the servants left the mansion. Presently, it’s just an ancient, dilapidated building that decorates Joy Street with its creepy appearance and spooky trees. Now those Gildroys, they were always up for an adventure. Could never settle for a dull lifestyle like Amanda’s. An average, everyday office worker and to top it off, she had the worst obsession ever.

Everyday, after the regular nine to five, she stops by the antique shop that just opened a couple of weeks ago. Her passion was collecting antique items. In other terms, she would be considered a hoarder since every shelf, rack and table in her home was filled with relics of unknown origins and cursed presence. Pretty sure, that was the reason people had stopped coming to see her, too. 

Nevertheless, it’s a decent interest. A worthy distraction from a rather tedious day, she would say. Go to the office, work like a dog till the evening, clock off at 5.30 on most days, 7pm if she has overtime, visit the Thousand Gems Antique Store to obtain any antiques that she might have missed out on previous visits or just to breathe in that store smell. Then, she goes home, has a meal and off to bed resulting in the end of the endless, boring cycle of her life.

Reading the words again, she began to think. If you are lost, it said. Was she? She does have a hard time connecting with people but that hardly means that she is lost. She’s just closed-off and would prefer to stay that way. The word appeared over and over again in her mind, forcing her to make sense out of it. Along with it, an image of herself staring at college brochures appeared in front of her through the imaginary projector in her head. Another image slid onto the projector of a 23-year-old Amanda who was choosing a profession. Those were the times she had felt she had no direction. Losing her faith in her spirit guide, she took matters into her own hands. Between having a stable job or taking a risk, she felt helpless and went with the obvious decision. The image moved and she saw herself through the eyes of her younger self, surrounded by people, sitting by the stairs and being told to move out of the way every now and then by random strangers who all had a purpose in mind while she was adrift in her own world.

She decided then that she shall find this person. 

“Mr. Roy, I will be taking this for today.”

Mr. Roy was a man in his late 30s who tended the shop while his parents were away on business, so she had been told. She met him on the night she first found the store and was greeted with a very monotonous welcome. However, the lethargic Mr. Roy did not mind her nightly visits to his store and a friendship was kindled between them from the talks and subtle nods.

“Don’t just leave. Show it to me first,” his voice boomed from behind the bookshelves. He was in the midst of rearranging the books in backward alphabetical order.

“Only this photograph I found on the shelf there. Nothing much.”

“Photograph?” He peeked out from the nearby shelf, thick leather bound classics placed in his arm.

She held up the picture from the exit. He peered hard at her fingers with his half-rimmed spectacles although she knew he couldn’t see anything from the distance between them. She came closer and waved the photograph in his face with a mocking gesture. Dropping the load on an empty stool, he grabbed her hand instantly and snatched up the item from the tips of her fingers, looking closely at it.

“The one with the writings on the back?” he asked, an eyebrow arched up, inquisitively. “I can assure you, you will not find what you are looking for there.” He smirked, placing the photograph on the shelf. 

“Even so.” She reached out and plucked the photograph again. “This is what I will be buying,” she responded.

“As the owner of this shop, I forbid you from buying it,” Mr. Roy demanded, his voice rising.

Amanda was never one who strived for confrontational situations. Avoid it. Hide from it. That was her way. However, there was one thing that always sent her blood boiling to the maximum and that was being yelled at. She was very skilled in the art of expressing anger in a calm manner. Taking deep, long breaths, she was able to bring her increasing anger to a halt.

“And as your customer, I am allowed to purchase anything that is on these shelves.” Practically throwing the money on the counter, she left the store quickly before Mr. Roy could stop her.

Glancing at the photograph, she reminisced about the time when she used to want to sneak into the mansion at night. But, obviously there was the myth of the Gildroy mansion that had prevented her from doing so. The whole street knew about it. People who sneaked into that place never returned. Some say it was the ghosts of the Gildroys. Other theories suggest that the eldest son of the Gildroy family was still alive and would kidnap people who trespassed. The family was also said to be breeding wolves before they passed and then, they had turned into the wolves themselves, devouring anyone who was in the mansion, and they never turned back. All the interpretations lead to a similar conclusion in which the Gildroys presence is still in that mansion. The street was dark, illuminated by only the dimmest street lights. She guessed since there’s no full moon, the third theory would not be happening to her.

The tall silhouette of the old building could be seen as she neared it. Through the holes in the metal fence enveloping the Gildroy land, the mansion gave off an eerie energy. The metal gates were locked, of course but if she remembered correctly there should be a passage somewhere in the brick wall beneath the metal fencing. Caressing her hands across the bricks, she felt a small area of the wall jutting out from its structure. The bricks moved as she hooked her fingernails into their sides and struggled to pull them out. One by one, the bricks unattached itself from each other and revealed a gaping hole, easy enough to crawl through. No wonder people decided to visit the mansion despite the stories, it was not that challenging to get in. Her hands and knees were on the ground, moving slowly forward. Turning up on the inside, the stories came flooding back to her as she took in the view of the abandoned mansion in all its dark glory. 

As her legs moved towards the door, she felt an uneasy air around her as if the wind was telling her to turn around and leave. The heels of her boots were the only sound that could be heard as she picked up her pace, no howling breeze or chattering of people, not even the shrieking crows made a sound. The hairs on her arm stood up as her imagination wandered around the tales of monsters and ghouls she listened to during her childhood. She grabbed the handle of the door in a hurry and pulled it towards her. The screech of the heavy door would have woken up the whole neighborhood. The sound hurt her eardrums, causing a ringing sensation that followed. Eyes darting right and left to find nothing but empty trees as witnesses to the commotion. 

What a beauty! The magnificently huge hall of the suspected haunted mansion would have held a thousand people. The balls hosted here would have been amazing if not for its current appearance with cobwebs hanging around each corner. Checkered-tiled floors extended from the tip of her boots to the ends of the walls a few meters away. The windows were bare, allowing those outside to experience whatever was to be going on inside. Rummaging through the pocket of her coat, she fished out the photograph and placed it right in front of her eyes. She observed it intently and back at the view of the ballroom. This is the place, she thought. What was she supposed to find, exactly? She looked down at the photograph, confused. Shadows began to form on its surface and she looked up. To her surprise, dust was floating in a line like the smoke from incense sticks. The vapors twirled in the air above the checkerboard, highly resembling the action of dancing. People were dancing.

Slowly, the room was filled with the words of conversation and gentle notes played in the air. My first encounter with ghosts and ones that were not from her time. Whispers and whispers followed each pair that danced before her. 

What a boring girl.

Could you move out of the way?

Go somewhere else girl.

Look at her all alone.

Maybe if she wasn’t so dull, she would have a partner by now.

Hearing the most horrible things about herself made her plunge into a whirlpool of despair as the ghostly figures danced around her with pitiful glances and mocking expressions. It was not her intention to be dull. She did desire adventure but she didn’t know what to do with her life then and ended up this way. She shielded her ears from the nasty words, refusing to allow them to take over her thoughts. It was all this stupid photograph’s doing. If she had just listened to Mr. Roy, she wouldn’t be in this eternal trap of self-hatred. 

“Miss, could you please stand up?” a voice sounded from above her. She did not realize that she was crouching with her eyes closed. Uncovering her ears, she met the eyes of a handsomely-suited man. Purple feathers were attached to the mask he was wearing, covering his eyes completely, even the irises. He extended his hand, most gracefully, and she thought he was going to ask her to dance with the apparitions. The man was definitely real as her hand touched his and did not disappear in a cloud of dust. He pulled her up and escorted her through the ballroom to one of the windows that opened up into a balcony. She felt mesmerized by him, partially because he just swooped in to save her from that humiliation. She noticed that there was light shining on him and turned to the sky to witness a full moon gazing down at them, surrounded by twinkling stars. 

He turned to her. “You’re not shaking anymore, miss?”

“Yes, that was quite a scene. Sorry you had to intervene.”

“I didn’t mind, miss. Although, I did hear them speaking such ill words like ‘dull’ and ‘boring’ to you.”

It was embarrassing to know that he heard that but that was the truth. She could not run from it anymore. She shook her head in response to him and smiled gently to assure him that she was not affected by it, even if she wasn’t convinced herself. 

“It’s nothing, really. That’s just who I am.”

“Yes, you are dull and boring but that does not exactly mean that that’s who you are. It’s your life. The life you chose. The path that was forced on you by your parents.”

The man in the mask seemed to know more about her, despite being a perfect stranger. He was right, though. She did not want this life. Her parents did. Now that she is an adult, she still feels lost. She still didn’t know how to make decisions and choose the right path. She had no hopes or dreams but if she were to be given a second chance she wouldn’t choose this life. At that moment, The Masked Man waved his hand and a rectangular hole appeared on the balcony together with them. A gold halo shaped the outline which glowed like fireworks. 

“Who would remember you if you left?” the Masked Man urged. “No one will find out if you went off on your own adventure. Your parents would cry and then move on. As for your colleagues, you were just their background character.”

His words did not hurt her. It did not create a darkness in which his words would lie and she would dwell inside it. He was still right. No one would notice. 

“You enter this portal. You will have the adventure you always wanted.”

What could anyone do? They wouldn’t search for her. She’s dull and boring, not worth a single tear when they realize she’s gone. I would be doing them and myself a favor, right? Whatever the outcome may be, she wouldn’t be here to find out, she persuaded herself as she stepped into the glowing opportunity of a lifetime. The hole in the sky vanished as magically as it appeared. The Masked Man walked away from the balcony. He walked between the dancing vapors as they disappeared in his wake. He followed the path out of the mansion and onto the pavement. Trudging along the street into the dark night, the morning sun was beginning to rise. A few store shutters being pulled up sounded throughout the street as he passed them. 

The antique store never closed that night as he opened the unlocked door and entered without hesitation. Moving quickly by the bookshelves and displays, he stood behind the counter. Unbuttoning his coat, exposing only a white shirt underneath, he removed the mask and placed it in a drawer in the desk. The door swung open again, allowing the rays of sunshine to sneak into the store. A young lady walked in dressed in a pleated skirt and a tucked-in shirt, high socks and a tie to complete the ensemble.

“Hello, my name is Nina. Can I see your collection of antiques that you have available? It’s for a school project.”

“Good morning, Nina. My name is Roy. Let me show you the way.”

They passed the shelves and on one of them was the photograph. And the endless cycle continues.