The Foyer

I breathed heavily into my hands, feeling a strange tingling in my chest. Why did I just enter a manor house on the advice of a strangely sentient owl? Granted no one was here but it was still weird that he was so insistent I come inside, almost anxiously insistent. I had no idea why, but perhaps it wasn't so bad getting a chance to explore an old mansion. Nobody would see me in the few minutes I was in here. Besides, if I tried to back down and slip outside again, my goggle-eyed friend would be waiting for me. 

Can't go back out just yet, I told myself, He's agitated enough as it is.

The best thing would be to look around for a minute or two, then tell him I had explored enough. There was no guarantee this would placate him, but an uncertain plan made me feel better with my current position than no plan at all. Taking in a deep breath, I calmed the tingling in my chest, turned around, and faced my new surroundings. 

The short hall was lit up by small chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A few round tables stood here and there along the walls, and a large staircase curled from the main floor to the upstairs. I crept down the hall, wincing at the hollow echoes made by every click of my heels. 

The place smelled old and musty, but the woodwork was in relatively good condition. Better than the courtyard doors outside. I peeked into some rooms whose doors were ajar. Whoever had lived here clearly collected antiques. The furniture and decor were conspicuously old-fashioned, though I had no idea what era they dated from.

Chairs had puffed backs and armrests, making them look like snobby old gossips. Tables had curved legs and carved feet. The few portaits I could see had embossed frames with floral edges. The wallpapering was faded in most patches, but I could still faintly make out their filigree designs. The carpets had a gray sheen of dust on them, but here and there the original color peeked through.   

Boy, I wish I could meet the Realtor, I thought, He would probably know what time-period this stuff dated from. Phew, if all this conveys, the house must be worth billions!

It felt exciting to see all this antiquity. I wondered who had owned this place way back when and how many others it had passed through up to now. Everything felt caked in memories and dusted with hidden secrets. As I walked down the darkened hall, I imagined I was stirring up the little whispers of haunted pasts. I felt both embarrassed and proud of myself for my fantasizing. Heck, this place deserved a little recognition. The next buyer was not going to have as much fun in his new home as I was right now. 

Fidgety with all my thoughts, I came to the end of the hall, where there stood two large doors. They were made of frosted glass and gleaming with golden filigrees. The room beyond the doors was brightly lit up. I could hear men's voices and faintly saw movement through the misty glass. 

Aha, so there is a crew here.

Time to get directions. I quickly thought how I would explain my situation to the workers. Confident in my explanation, I began to open the doors when an extremely light, breathy, and feminine laugh wafted through the crack I made between them. I froze. I've known some hardy women in my time and none of them laughed like that. I pressed my face against the glass, trying hard to see who was on the other side. 

It was painfully difficult to make out the people's outfits, but I noticed a lot of shifting color in the background. I detected some tall black forms nearer to me. Guys in suits, maybe? 

Okay, so perhaps the Realtor is just showing the house to—

Three very colorful figures approached the men. My heart started beating faster when I deduced they were women in obviously fancy dresses. I backed away fearfully. 

Oh, gosh! That's not a maintenance crew! I thought frantically, I have to get out of here! If I'm caught—

A loud rustle sounded behind me. I jumped and turned around quickly. No one was standing in the hall. Instead, the owl was seated on the banister. 

"How'd you get in?" I demanded in surprise. 

No wonder he wanted me to come inside. He'd done that before himself! He leaned forward, purring at me. I was about to snap something in reply when I felt a hand on my shoulder. 

"Beatrice," a gravely voice whispered in my ear, "you promised to dance with me. Why do you not enter the ballroom?"

Oh, God! My heart was beating so hard, I could have blacked out. Summoning every ounce of courage, I looked over my shoulder. 

He stood but was stooped, his broad shoulders rounded with age. His suit was exquisite, yet recalled from older times. He grinned at me, his long teeth shining from beneath his golden mask. My breath faltered.

"I'm—I'm not Beatrice," I answered somehow, "I didn't know this was a ball."

"Did not know?" he repeated slowly, scrutinizing me. My stomach tightened. "How did you not know?"

"I've never been here before," I said, wishing my voice would stop quaking.

"Were you not invited?" he asked. 

"N-no, I wasn't, sir."

"Hmm..."

Clearly he did not believe me. He stepped closer, and I was trapped against the wall. I bit my lip to stifle my dread, hardly daring to breathe. The skeptical gentleman traced a bony finger beneath my eyes. 

"...this is most strange," he murmured, "You have not been invited and yet you are clearly dressed for this ball."

"I was actually on my way to—" 

"That being so, we surely we can't send her away without permitting her to join us," the fellow continued, speaking aloud to himself, "That would be most ill-mannered. What would the young master say?" 

This last question was directed at the owl, who gave a haunting croon. 

"Yes, yes, Odin, I quite agree. It is settled," the fellow gave a stiff bow, "In that case, young lady, good evening. I am Monsieur Luceyado, steward of these halls. Would you care to be escorted to the ballroom, my dear?" 

I agreed, mostly because I hoped he would be more inclined to hear why I came in. However, Luceyado would not step toward the doors until I had slipped my arm over his. Before I could say anything, he drew me toward the ballroom's entrance. 

Every part of me urged me to tell him that I hadn't meant to come inside, that I didn't think anyone was here, and that I had gotten lost trying to find my way through the park--!

The glass doors swayed open, just enough to let us through. I was escorted into the ballroom. Wow! How different this bright, lively room was from rest of the old mansion. The polished floor reflected hundreds of dazzling couples, swaying and dancing across its glassy surface. There was that sound of laughter in the air, a haunting, mellowing laughter. 

I knew this had to be a masquerade ball by the masks everyone was wearing. I had never seen so many glittering faces nor grimacing masquerades. Each face was colored with its own particular mask. I honestly could not find a face without one. 

In the face of such grand attire, I felt my own dress was horribly inferior. Between that and the fact that I didn't have a mask, I would stick out like a sore thumb. This was the time to explain I got lost, so I pulled on Luceyado's arm.

"Sir, I shouldn't be here," I said. When he turned his scrutinizing eyes on me, my stomach knotted, and my explanation crumpled like a paper ball, "because, um, my...my dress is so plain."

His eyes traveled up and down the length of me.

"Nonsense," he said at last, "Are you to deny yourself this opportunity merely for a dress? The master will be pleased with your gown, I know. Furthermore, its crimson color is refreshing to me," he nodded his head approvingly.

I wanted to argue further, but he prevented this by asking me if I would give him the honor of dancing with him. 

"Since Beatrice has gypped me, I am sure," he explained, "May I ask your name also, Miss...?"

"Jenna," I said.

"Only Jenna?"

"Jenna Phillips," I sighed. "I'd accept your invitation to dance, sir, but I'm not very good at ballroom dancing."

That wasn't completely true, but I needed the excuse to work up courage to tell the truth.

"Come, come now, Miss Phillips, I am certain you shall do well," he said. "Truly, it is never too late to learn."

I couldn't refuse now. I was more or less bound to agree anyway. After all, this was what I deserved for wandering into a place I should've known wasn't empty. Maybe dancing with him would help me find the words I needed to tell him how I got here. Besides, I didn't want to aggravate whoever owned this place. Upsetting his steward would probably be aggravating. 

With a sinking heart, I curtsied and Luceyado bowed in return. 

My breath hitched when I felt his thin, cold fingers curl around my waist. His shoulder towered over me, but I managed to keep my hand on it as he drew me among the dancers. I don't know how he moved so quickly. He brought us right across the floor until we were in the very heart of the ballroom. He whirled and guided me in time with the haunting waltz. 

I experienced a strange sensation all over my skin, like I was submerged in water, yet somehow able to breathe. My head was light, unable to think clearly. I gasped for air, and the couples closest glanced at me. Their smiling masks scared me.

"Mr. Luceyado—I think I'm feeling faint—" I faltered.

"Come, come, you are doing quite well," he said. "Don't lose heart." 

I must have been doing well enough because my ankle was starting to ache. The dancers began to form a chain of synchronized motions and Luceyado dipped me down suddenly in unison with them. Instinctively, I clung to him. The floor was so close its glare blinded me. Before I could think or react, he pulled me back up. I was swung around and lurched into the ring of dancers again. 

The ache in my ankle rapidly burst into a sharp pain. A woman's heel had swung too close and gashed my ankle. I stumbled, suppressing a scream. My partner was completely consumed by the music. His eyes were shut and his motions were so fluid, I was forced to move faster to keep up. My ankle stung wildly. 

"Mister—Monsieur—Luceyado—" I panted. 

My voice was drowned out by the swelling melody. The pain in my ankle drilled through any coherent thoughts. My chest was hitching. The walls began to close around me, pressing the dancers closer. Their laughter sounded oppressive, final. 

"I can't!" I screamed, wriggling in his arms, "Let me go!"