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Sunday 13 April 2014

La Asile.

This was the last one!
We had been looking all day, but this one; well this was the one I'd been most excited about!
Bobby and I had traipsed up and down and even around to try and find a venue for the biggest day of our lives. This last place drew me to it like a moth to a flame. It's expansive timber beams, huge wooden medieval doors, the wide bay windows. This place was like a time capsule. Every aspect of it was a different relic of centuries passed. This exquisite hall represented every part of my patchwork personality and we hadn't even stepped inside yet. 
'La Asile' as the house was named, by one of those charming wooden plaques, seemed like perfection. I immediately started to mentally plan where I wanted the wedding car to pull up and where the flowers would be arranged outside. Bobby could see me plotting and suggested we actually look inside the property unless we were going to get married in the front garden. Though if the house was a let down, that wasn't such a bad idea! 
As we stepped over the threshold all warm, fuzzy feeling that I'd had outside immediately left me, replaced with icy tingles and sudden paranoia. The house was rather dark, especially considering it was bright as day outside so Bobby went to hunt for the lights to make things easier. A grand staircase stood parallel to where I was right by the door. I shook off the silly feeling of threat and started into the sitting room. The sitting room had to be at least 5 times the size of my little old living room. The beautifully detailed, vast fireplace stood presence over the room. The divine turquoise panelled walls, draped with paintings of lives past pulled me in further, tugging on every historic heart string. 
One thing though, did not seem to fit into this idyllic, well-preserved scene, a piece of paper, half tucked underneath the settee, crumpled and stained. I sat delicately on the full, black settee and lent forward to grab this paper. I uncrumpled the paper and smoothed it out meticulously against my leg then the settee.  It was a child's drawing of what looked like twins, one looked angry and the other scared. The angrier twin had glowing red eyes. I sat and thought about the wonders of a child's imagination and thought that if only I had the same, I should have the means to create some wondrous things and the money that follows. The longer I sat, the less comfortable I began to feel. I felt watched and the icy tingles returned again. Why was there a child's drawing in a place like this, as far as I know it didn't belong to a family it was a landmark of some sorts? I looked closer at the drawing and turned it over to investigate further. On the back was written 'GET OUT! OR YOU SHALL MEET THE SAME FATE AS THE REST OF US!' Well you didn't have to tell me twice. I abruptly stood and headed for the door. As I passed the full length gold mirror, something caught my eye. I stopped. I turned to face the mirror. Maybe I was just being paranoid, it was my reflection, exactly the same as me, expect, the red eyes. This time I ran for the door! As I reached the foot of the stairs it hit me, like a wave coming over me, like a vision. La Asile? The Asylum! The drawing didn't show twins it showed the different sides of himself! I stood there frozen as I watched the house do its work. The boy was young when he stayed here, it was long ago. Every time he would catch his reflection red eyes would be staring back, burning into his soul. Time sped up soon he would spend all day looking in the mirror at himself, uncomfortable smirk on his face. Until only a few short months after his arrival he strolled across to the mirror early one morning, glass in hand, I screamed and pleaded with him to stop. His eyes fixed on me as he looked in the mirror and with the piece of glass slowly slit his own throat. Suddenly I was back in the hall, sitting on the floor in floods of tears. I screamed at the top of voice for Bobby and he came running to me. I begged him to get me out of this house. We walked back over the threshold and down the path and as I looked back at this evil house of entrapment I then woke up from my dream and sat here writing about it as I could no longer sleep. I hate my nightmares :/

Stay safe
Paige
xo

2 comments:

  1. You should really think about writing books. That was a gripping read. You may have the weirdest nightmares, but they are there for a reason. Think about it sweety. Love mom. xxx

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    1. Thanks mum, glad you enjoyed it, especially considering you don't really like horror related things :). I'll see about the writing. Love you too xo

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