It was getting late. I needed to hurry. I took a carefully covered bundle from the buffet. Beneath the fabric was a translucent set of fine porcelain. I cradled them carefully, for they were as delicate as they were irreplaceable. I arranged them meticulously, ensuring they aligned perfectly. After a moment’s hesitation over the cutlery, I chose the silver set. Using a handkerchief, I picked them up. I scrutinized the harmony between the tableware and the tablecloth. I rearranged the plates. It was a bit lacking. I pondered several different fixes, finally I settled on flowerpots. Their simplicity contrasted with the rest, preventing the table from looking gaudy. At last I brought candlesticks. These were my last ones. It pained me to burn them, however I couldn’t compromise that night. I lit them, brightening the dining table with flickering lights. Taking a few steps back, I observed my work. I immediately stepped forward again, a leaf had fallen onto the tablecloth. It made me realize some elements of the silverware were not perfectly parallel, then a wrinkle in the fabric, a water stain on a plate, and a… I grew more frantic circling around the table. I was getting nowhere. I huffed as I forced myself to look away and moved on to my next task.
A dining table without a dish was ridiculous. In the kitchen, a frantic scratching echoed from a barrel. I plunged my hand in it and grabbed the noisy rabbit I tossed in earlier. Instinctively my nose wrinkled at the wet sensation on my fingers. I immediately moved away the foul smelling critter from me, holding it with an outstretched arm. The rough handling scattered acidic droplets staining my boots. My jaw clenched, my tongue caressing my canines in agitation. Can’t you cooperate? I’d rather not dirty myself. Its struggle and loud squeals eroded my calm. When I put it on the counter and tried to take the knife, it jumped away. I made no attempt to use utensils after that.
I was breathing deeply as I washed my hands thoroughly. Foolish vermin... A decorated vial full of scarlet liquid rested on the kitchen counter. My visage finally softened looking at it. My steps betrayed flashes of excitement. I headed to my workshop. Getting dressed was my last chore before revealing the masterpiece I worked on for the last decade.
I liked to linger on the exquisite tapestry and tastefully painted vase decorating the corridors of the castle. Each piece of art was a tribute to my talent. However, for once, I did not let them distract me. I pushed the door of my workshop and was greeted by the stacks of sketches, half-finished clothes, delicate tools covered in dust. Many projects were only halfway completed before being forgotten. Yet, amid this mess of failures, on a mannequin was my pristine jewel, the pinnacle of my knowledge and skill. I passed my finger underneath the fabric of the shoulders and slowly removed it from its stand. As I put it on, my breath became ragged and my eyes moistened. I studied myself from every angle my neck would permit. It had been years since I felt such pride in my work. My lips were twitching in a constant battle between a blissful smile and a tentatively stern expression.
Everything was in place, except me. I took the scarlet flask, carrying it in front of my heart. Its dark tint deepened against the white of my dress, while the fabric seemed to take an ethereal glow. The sound of my footsteps echoed in the colorful corridor. Without a second of hesitation, I pushed open the stately door in one grand motion. Chin high, bearing a regal gait, I paraded to the center of the room saluted by rows of chairs. In this majestic hall, nothing could compare to my presence.
A wine glass waited for me at the head of the table. In one theatrical motion I filled it with blood. “I am grateful to you all for attending this event.” I raised the glass high, made it swirl, coating its wall in red before taking a swig of the thick drink. I finally sat, savoring the lingering taste. I smiled softly, looking away, subtly revealing the intricate pattern of the lace covering my neck. A movement of the hand to reveal the simple beauty of the sleeves. Each gesture was calculated to look natural, yet enticing to the audience. At this instant, I was the muse any painter would have damned themselves for.
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“White, in itself, is nothing. It is known only by the company of other colors.
Its nature is a vibrant emptiness. Silently, it offers itself as the quiet stage upon which all else may appear. It is only when its purity is tainted that its hidden depth is finally revealed.” I paused after this inspiring claim and received no comments. “Little does…” I raised my voice once more, but the strength to push it out faded. My head dropped low, I could not bear to look at those empty seats. Only my pale reflection on the porcelain was here to accompany my solitude. I have done it once more. To think I was impatient for tonight... How pathetic! With an ugly grimace I clutched my head, pressing on it to forcefully shut down those thoughts.
With an exasperated groan, I propped my feet up on the table. I held the bottle high above my head, waiting mouth open for the last drop to fall. Like a well dressed drunkard, I put back the empty flask on the table with melancholic eyes. I took a napkin, then immediately threw it away. The back of my hand would do. There was no image left to save. I was playing house like a child. However, I had spend decades gathering my toys.
I lay limply in the chair without the energy to even move. A rabbit isn’t enough. I wish I had something like a deer or a boar. But they run too fast, and the cleaning takes forever. Animals always come with some inconvenience. A human... a human would be perfect. They taste delightful, and are filling. There is a wide variety of aromas too. The fat limping nobles are bitter for some reason, truly not suited to my palate, but some are sweet. Like the noble rot on grapes, there is a delicate balance. Farmers taste somehow healthy, I never was disappointed by one. I still remember this farm-boy. His blood was lean, refreshing. He was easy amusing too. He practically offered himself. I still laugh at the expression on his face when he asked me out for a dinner and realized he was the main dish. Unconsciously, my chin moved up and down in an absent-minded biting motion. If only they were not such a bother. Whenever you touch one, the rest swarm at you. They make such fuss, just over a little nibble.
The precious wax of the candles was pooling at their base. Even though moving was a daunting task, scraping the solidified mess would guarantee me at least one or two candles next time. The shame I felt was physically painful, yet in a few days I would start to look forward to the next event. I dragged my feet against the cold tiles and packed away the table dressing. I gathered everything, burning my fingers on the silver by mistake. I almost gave up, but my last shreds of decency forced me to finish the chore that I would have left for years to come. However, my dedication to my material possessions did not extend to my needs. My laziness was stronger than my hunger. Despite the protests of my malnourished body, I would eat another day. Sleeping was my dearest wish at that moment. Dreams are sweeter than reality, or whatever nonsense they say.
I retreated deeper into the castle with slumped shoulders. I closed the impractical door without a sound and I wandered through the gaudy corridors. Only the quiet shuffle of my feet disturbed this deserted ruin. I finally fell limply on my bed, still fully dressed. This soft embrace was the only genuine comfort I had.
I could hear the birds chirping peacefully outside. The outside was noisy as usual, full of life, unlike my castle. I could hear the rustling of trees in the wind, the patter of rain, or the creak of a door being pushed open. I groaned and pressed my pillow over my ears. At least winter is quieter. Wait! A door?! I sat up as my cadaverous languor vanished in the blink of an eye.
