The City
You step forward and nearly trip over the forgotten tablecloth. It no longer seems important and you let it drop to the ground.
There is a faint path through the grass and you take a few tentative steps along it. You look back at the doorway and the basement room is still there, just as it was. However the exterior is not the large manor you have come from, but a small stone keep with a wooden door as its only feature.
Or perhaps it is Leadmere, as it once was. The estate is old, dating back to the conquest, and in your walks you have traced the stone foundation of a round tower. Yet the rest of the landscape is unfamiliar, nothing like that flat, thickly wooded estate.
You continue along the path for a time and the grass changes from bright green to softer yellows as the landscape becomes arid. The sun, which felt welcoming at first, beats down hotter. You consider heading back, but just then the path curves between two small hills and you gasp in delight at the valley that opens in front of you.
In the far distance are grand mountains, but even more enchanting is the small city contained within the valley. You hurry towards it, marveling at the way it suddenly became visible and its jewel-box appearance.
It strikes you that this place looks like prints you have seen in a book about Hindustan. This makes you laugh, because you have just figured out that you must be dreaming. At fourteen you are past believing fairy stories can be real, but your adventures this morning have confused and frightened you. It is a comfort to know that you are still safely sleeping in the basement room.
There is a courtyard in the center of the city, surrounded on all sides by a large building dotted with bulbous cupolas. You decide you would like to climb up to one and take in the view, so you make your way towards it. The walkways you follow are devoid of people, but sometimes from the corner of your eye you think you spot a figure here and there. However when you turn your head to look there’s never anyone there.
The phantom people are disconcerting, but you recall that this is a dream and relax some. However it’s a relief when you reach the main courtyard and slip into the covered arcade that surrounds it. There you are shielded from both the harsh sunlight and the feeling of being watched.
It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust and see the set of stairs at the end. You walk towards them, enjoying the coolness of the walkway.
Kate.
At the sound of your whispered name, your head snaps up and you look about wildly, but there is no-one. You speed up and hear it again, this time definitely from the right, away from the courtyard, where it is darkest. The voice is ragged, disturbing, but there is also a pleading note that pulls at you.
In your peripheral vision you glimpse two people moving by the stairs, but this time when you turn your head they remain. Somehow you know they are not calling to you, but it does seem they’ve noticed you. They are dressed ornately, wearing sashes that hint at an official role, perhaps even marking them as royalty. One of them raises a hand, signaling you to come nearer.
Do you go to them?
This is part of the story Beneath Leadmere Manor, written for @calluna’s 9th Tell a Story to Me Contest, based on the prompt, “Deep below ground, a portal opens…,” as well as the Day 248 photo prompt for the #365daysofwriting challenge by @mydivathings.
Photo by Ibrahim Rifath.
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I always enjoy reading some fiction on steemit. I look forward to when we start writing books.
I've read a lot of stuff here that should be in books.