Mummy and Daddy were sick with the fever. They sweated and coughed and spent all their hours in bed.
It frightened me.
But I wasn’t ill, so they sent me away.
Uncle’s house was very big. Stone lions growled outside the iron gate. The place was filled with arches and buttresses, almost like a cathedral.
I’d never met him before.
The servants greeted me in the foyer. Uncle came down much later. He huffed at me and said,
“Take the girl to her room.”
I didn’t see him for a long time after that.
The manor was boring.
I went out to play in the garden. No one seemed to mind if my dresses got dirty. It was not the prettiest garden—overgrown and dry in spots—but it was a nice place to throw tea parties with the robins and dance in the sun.
Time passed. It was unbearably lonely, and I grew tired of my solitary games.
Late one afternoon—a rather dreary, chilly one—I came upon a small gate at the very back of the garden. I hadn’t noticed it before.
I unhooked the latch and pushed it open.
It was beautiful.
Roses climbed the stone wall, tangled with foxgloves and lavender. White lilies nodded beside the path, and ivy crept across the old fountain as though it were thirsty.
I decided instantly that this secret garden would be my haven.
A voice startled me.
“What are you doing here?”
I spun.
A boy stood behind me. Maybe a year or two older than I was. His skin was pale as moonlight. He had a shock of dark hair and eyes the color of amber. His lips were red like a rosebud.
He was very pretty—for a boy. He wore a burgundy jacket and knickers.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“I'm—I’m Violet,” I stammered.
“Hmm. Violet.” He looked me up and down. “You're dirty.”
I glanced down at my lacy dress, covered in grass stains, and blushed.
“I—well… no one seems to mind. I was playing.”
“I like it,” he said, authoritatively. “You and I shall be friends, Violet. I am Victor.”
He gave a theatrical little bow.
“Now then—” He grasped my hand. His touch was cold. He pulled me closer and plucked a dried leaf from my hair.
“My goodness, you are a feral little thing, aren’t you?” He smirked. “Delightful. Shall we play now?”
What a strange boy. But I didn't have many options. And I was so terribly lonely.
We played princess in the castle. Victor placed me in a small stone tower in the garden and told me to fret loudly while he played the valiant knight, slaying a dragon and coming to my rescue with a single perfect crimson rose and a kiss on the cheek.
“My lady,” he said with a bow.
I giggled.
Next, he wanted to play hide-and-seek in the box hedge.
“Now, Violet. You must hide. And I will find you. And when I do, I want you to run.”
“Run?” I asked, perplexed.
His eyes shone with amber light.
“Run. It’s more fun that way, silly. Run as if your life depends on it. And I will chase you.”
It really wasn’t appropriate for young ladies to run.
I desperately wanted to. My body hummed with excitement.
And Victor liked that I was a bit wild.
And so I hid, while Victor sat on the ledge of the fountain. I found a little space to tuck myself between the hedgerows, and waited.
It was getting dark. There were no sounds. No birds. Not even crickets.
I could hear my own breath, but never his.
My heart started to pound. Why couldn't I hear Victor?
But I stayed hidden.
Then, suddenly.
“There you are.”
In the shadows, Victor’s eyes gleamed.
“Better run, Violet.”
His smile wasn't kind.
I fled, but it suddenly didn't feel like a game. He was too quick—too silent. I felt like a fawn being stalked.
Then I tripped over a root and fell flat on my face, panting and covered in filth.
Victor was right there behind me. He stilled. His eyes softened.
“Are you alright, Violet?” he asked with concern in his voice.
He extended his hand and helped me to my feet.
He had seemed frightening only moments ago, but now I felt very safe with him. He was tender. Kind.
His cool fingers brushed my cheek.
“This will bruise,” he said. “Go inside and clean yourself up. Go to bed. It is getting late. We shall play again tomorrow evening. Meet me by the fountain.”
I nodded, and did as I was told.
“Goodnight, my sweet Violet,” he called after me.
“Goodnight, Victor.”
The next night we met again. And the night after.
He played with me more gently after my fall. He told me stories. He knew a great deal about the house and the surrounding land—the history, battles fought.
Apparently a monastery had burned there a few hundred years ago. He said it was haunted, and that one day he would take me to visit it.
I came to love Victor. After all those months of isolation, he was my savior. My best friend.
And then I learned that I was to return home.
I told him the news that night in the garden. Fury flashed across his beautiful face.
“No,” he said. “They’re sick. It’s not safe. You could become ill. I won’t have it.”
“They’re better,” I told him.
“But they could sicken again. It won’t do. It will not do.”
He paced back and forth through the garden like a caged tiger.
“Violet.”
“Yes, Victor?”
“Do you trust me?”
I looked at him for a moment.
“Of course.”
“What if…” He hesitated. “What if I could make it so you never got sick? Then I’d know you’d always be there for me. Would you like that, Violet?”
“But… how?”
“It would hurt,” he said gently. “But only for a moment. And afterward you would feel stronger than you ever have.”
I thought of Mummy and Daddy coughing in their beds. Of the fear and loneliness I had felt. It seemed foolish to risk it if Victor truly knew a way to keep me safe.
“And we would still play in the garden?” I asked.
“Every night,” he promised.
I nodded.
“Very well,” I said. “You may do it.”
Victor smiled then—softly this time, like the boy I loved.
“Good,” he said.
He brushed my hair back from my neck and drew me close. His lips were cold against my skin.
It did hurt. Very much.
I closed my eyes against it.
The pain lasted only for a moment.
Then I felt something warm and wet against my lips. I licked them. It tasted of iron.
When I opened my eyes again, the garden seemed brighter. I could hear things I had never heard before—the wind in the ivy, the slow trickle of water in the fountain, the quiet pulse of life in the roses.
Energy thrummed in my veins.
Victor watched me carefully.
“Well?” he asked.
I smiled.
“I feel wonderful.”
Not long after that, a carriage came to take me home.
Mummy and Daddy were waiting in their beds when I arrived. They were still pale, but they were glad to see me.
I kissed them both on the cheek.
They worried so terribly about the fever.
But I am not afraid of illness anymore.
I will never get sick again.
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This is awesome.
"fled, but it suddenly didn't feel like a game. He was too quick—too silent. I felt like a fawn being stalked." Fawn being stalked is perfect
That was so good! I loved the Anne Rice stories for the tension and even as a short trip this had lots of that. Well done!