'Sleeptalking' is a roughly 76,000 word long gothic-horror/dark-fantasy story trying to catch the vibe of classic horror stories from the good old days, whilst switching back and forth between waking hours and dreams of a young woman with each chapter. The style of it's writing is committed to putting across the flair of the late 1860's in which the story is set.
The protagonist of this tale is the 23-year old Seraphine Cromwell, child of a wealthy businessman. Her father, Albert Cromwell slaughtered everyone of his family in a bloody frenzy just before committing suicide, sparing only his 5-year old daughter for no clear reason.
Or maybe... I should just let the story explain on its own:
Interlude
The nightmares have been haunting the 23-year old woman for
many years by now. In the last decade nearly not a single night passed by
without her waking up frightened long before the break of dawn, making it hard
for her to return to peaceful slumber.
People often told her she was seeing these things every
night because of the loss of her closest family when she still had been a
child, but she always doubted that. Most people didn't even have the slightest
idea how it had happened, as not even she did.
Surely the way how she had lost her parents was
traumatizing, yet she remained sure all of it took place AFTER her very
first nightmare of this sort, throwing off any argument raised against her. But
who would believe it except herself? At the time she had been far too young and
memory is a volatile thing.
And no matter how she tried to convince herself, Seraphine
still doubted if the things she had seen and heard in that night were reality
or only part of this first nightmare.
Ever since that night or at least the day after; she has
been living with her aunt Rowena and the two daughters of her in their manor in
South England.
Seraphine Cromwell had just turned five years old when her
father took the lives of her mother and brother in the main hall of their home
before committing suicide. A bloody act of which nobody knew why he did this to
his family nor why he had left his sole daughter as the only one alive. Some
people even suspected that he had simply forgotten about his daughter in this
insane frenzy.
They had been a wealthy family suffering from no hardships
at all. He was not involved in any illegal activities nor had any love affairs
behind the back of his wife. Seraphine’s father loved all of them more than his
own life. There had been absolutely no reason for him doing such a thing.
Albert Cromwell was one of the people who had made great
profit thanks to the industrial revolution sweeping over the England. He had
been co-founder of one of the leading manufactories for machine parts in the outskirts
of London. The Cromwells had lived close by the factory at that time in their
also fairly large mansion. Despite being this close to the capitol, they upheld
a lush garden, emphasizing on the importance of a green retreat for the
clear-minded soul. They kept their own private paradise close to them at all
times.
Rowena, the sister of Seraphine’s mother on the other hand,
had married a landlord of a larger area in the county of Wiltshire.
The poor man had died due to a heart-disease about a year
before Seraphine had been born. Too early to ever even meet his niece once.
Since then Rowena has been living her life thriftlessly as the widow of a landlord.
Yet by now, as more and more years have passed, the fortune of Seraphine’s aunt
is dwindling and their standards of living as well as the manor itself are in
danger.
But the aged woman has one last resource to fall back on, as
for young Lady Seraphine is basically a filled pot of Gold to her aunt due to
the inheritance of the factories as well as the remaining fortune Seraphine’s
father had left behind for her.
Despite the fact Rowena as well as her daughters all know fully
well they need the money desperately, none of this family has ever treated
Seraphine with any form of respect. Especially Rowena’s offspring Abbygail and
Heather, both didn’t take too kindly to Seraphine over the years, often teasing
their cousin, ridiculing her by playing tricks on her or even giving her extra
chores that would normally have been a task for the housemaids. Strangely
enough Seraphine never refused any of these; most of the time she did not even
pass them on to the servants but rather addressed to them by herself.
She always has been too reluctant and timid to stand up
against her two cousins. Something always held her back, pushing into the
silent sadness of submission.
Sometimes, one could say, Alice, Rowena’s cat as white as
snow, tended to the young woman as her only friend left in this world.
The small furry animal often acted rather lady-like just
like Seraphine’s aunt and no-one could ever deny that the little creature had a
fair sense of personal honour that had to be taken into account, yet she has
also always respected Seraphine as she deserved, unlike the rest of her
so-called ‘family‘.
End of August, 1867, the Eltringham-Rothwell-Manor, Wiltshire
It has been a warm summer which will seemingly be followed
by an also pleasantly warm autumn.
For some unclear reason the dreams of Seraphine have gained
once more in intensity.
Somnium Primum
The night’s sky is clear with stars shining brightly next to
the moon’s silvery crescent shape. A cold wind is blowing, carrying a salty
taste to her firm lips.
The sound of waves bursting into foam as they hit rocks
takes her attention. It seems to be close by.
Finally she manages to take her eyes off the heavens and
carefully looks around, no need for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
The young woman is standing on a small and stone-covered
pathway leading through seemingly endless fields of grass to her left and
right, as it slowly winds up a slight slope in the not so far distance. The
grass is swaying in the wind like the sea following the light breeze as it
caresses the lands.
Absorbed by the moment it takes a moment for her to notice
the shadow and how it is slowly creeping up at her from behind.
Pressing her eyes shut, a sudden cold runs down her spine
only encouraging her to hesitate longer before she would finally gather the
courage it takes to have a look over her shoulder and reveal that it was only
cast by a tree standing off the edge of the forest, its crown swaying in the
wind high up above her head.
She lets out a sigh as she calms down, silently talking to
herself that she needs to grow up and stop jumping at every shadow she comes
across.
The forest her eyes came to rest upon behind her is pitch
black and seems to be grown quite densely over the years. Taking a single step
forward and away is all that is needed for her to leave this shade behind and
step again into the bright moonlight.
Her brown eyes glisten like flames trapped inside amber for
a second before they settle on a steady gleam. Not a single cloud is there that
would stop the silver beams of the moon from reaching her, kissing her cheeks
and whatever it would touch.
A gust of wind sweeps through the fields of grass around her
also going through her slightly curled auburn hair picking up a few strands and
throwing them around playfully, as she now carefully begins to follow the path,
eager not to step onto any spiked stones barefooted.
With every step she takes the sounds of the waves seem to
draw closer. She quickly decided that it would be easiest if she would just
bluntly keep following the way up the small hill. To this point she had not
noticed it before, but now it seems a stone is marking the end of said pathway
and probably the edge of the land alongside. It must be at least as tall as her,
probably even over-towering her by a couple of inches. Her eyes fixed on it and
thoughts circling around the mysterious stone, it takes the sharp cry of a lone
seagull to forcefully draw her attention to the sky again.
As she slows down again and only keeps on walking with
small, careful steps it almost seems as if the stars on the canopy of heaven
try to dance for her.
She knows that this is only an illusion, nevertheless she
loves the night-time for the sight of it; the waltz of starlight and darkness.
Standing now at the foot of the hill another gust of wind rushes
over the scenery bringing even colder air with it, reminding the young woman
that the white nightdress she is wearing won't be holding off the cold too much
longer. Crafted from expensive silk, it was a luxury to have, but nothing to
wear in a place like this. Then again, she did not seem or feel too bothered
about it.
Curiosity had also already gotten the better of her on the
way here. Without much hesitation she decides to keep following the path up the
slope after having another look at the forest, now left a good bit behind her.
As she further climbs up the hill she finds herself to be
surprised of how steep it actually turns out to be. It surely didn't look like
that from afar.
Though she takes her time and eventually reaches the top and
with it the end of the path with the tall stone marking it.
Up close the rock easily over-towers her by at least a foot
in height.
Between it and the edge of the land lie only a few steps,
the ground around it is covered with lush green grass, dearly holding onto a
few drops of dew.
From up here she can look over the black sea unfolding right
at her feet up to the distant horizon without any problems. The vast black body
of water always in turmoil, never it seems to fully even out, her eyes jump
from wave to wave, following a secret pattern only she knows as far as her eyes
managed to carry her imagination.
After a few minutes of staring out into the open she finally
gathers her senses and carefully takes a few steps closer to the edge of the
cliff trying to take a peek down at the breaking waves.
From a single look she finds out that a drop down would mean
falling several metres onto solid stones. Yet knowing this is not enough to
keep her away from looking at the water crashing against the shore, bursting
into bubbles and foam as it hits the rocks.
Driven by a strange fascination she just can't stop
watching. She easily loses herself in the sight around her for another couple
of minutes before she manages to take her eyes off yet again. Her body is
tingling. It is the sensation formed by many things, the beauty of what lies
around her and to discover it, the fear of what might lurk below its surface
and of course the silent admiration for its creator. Filled with reverence she
now slowly backs away from the edge still gazing at the open sea, the endless
masses of dark blue water stretching out in front of her. For a short moment
she pictures it as a large and dangerous creature in her mind that is only
trying to devour her, but she quickly abandons the thought before it would get
to her.
One part of her eagerly wants to find out what lies beyond
the horizon, to uncover the secrets it holds from her, but she knows fully well
that things like this are mere dreams of the human mind and most time maybe
even less than that.
Another minute passes as she looks at the sea before she
gathers the inner strength to turn away and again face the fields of grass as
well as the dark forest waiting for her behind her. From up here, she thinks,
the woods looks even scarier than the sea in her back. The trees seem like
hundreds of different, all likewise eerie creatures with sharpened claws and
teeth made from the branches, swaying light-headedly in the breeze.
Shaking her head and again condemning herself for immaturity
she discards these utmost childish thoughts and rather quickly turns to the
stone marking the end of the pathway leading up here.
As she lets her fingers run along its smooth surface on the side,
she notices how cold it actually feels to the touch. Slowly she circles it
once, looking at it from every side, never taking her fingertips away. Unable
to tell whether she is imagining things or not she stops at one point and tries
to feel it a bit slower. Under the very tips of her fingers it seems that there
is some sort of engraving. It is too dark to see right now, as it is completely
cast into the shadow on the side of the stone facing the sea. At least she knew
that there is something. It feels like some sort of rune of old or maybe a
short word left behind by weary traveller that had no regard for this
monument’s purity, though no matter how she tries, she cannot tell from only
feeling it.
But this little engraving was enough to lead her away from
the chill she experienced upon touching it. Without doubt it came surprising how
cold the stone feels. Surely it must be standing here for centuries by now, she
thinks to herself, but this was clearly something extraordinary.
Her touch slipping off the stone, letting go of it, the wind
now grows stronger and stronger with every passing second.
As she looks up all of a sudden she grasps that in only a
few more minutes, probably even less, it wouldn’t be safe standing up here
anymore. A storm is gathering not too far away and as it seems it will be going
to arrive here in this very place rather soon. Her whole body told her, as
parts of her seemed to be able to feel it, but despite that there is already more
than enough evidence provided by the pitch-black clouds pushing themselves over
towards her.
Weighing her options there aren’t too many places she could
go from here: Either stay at the edge hoping not to be pushed off, walk into
the fields or quickly follow the path back to the forest.
Then she realizes it for the first time since she has got to
this place. A sudden clarity brought upon her, although still not questioning
her dress: She had been sure up to this moment that she had never been here
before and she had no idea where she is at the moment, yet despite it all,
doubt arising, the surrounding suddenly seems remarkably... familiar.
For a moment it is as if thunder had struck her, rendering
her unable to move or even think clearly. The huge dark clouds now swiftly
approaching the cliff she is standing on however snaps her out of this
catatonic state only to have her realize just how much time she had wasted
right now, absent of any thought: knowledge and a feeling that would not make
this situation any easier.
At least it seems fairly clear that staying up here would be
the least favourably option, so she quickly, yet with utmost care sets foot on
the path down the slope again. The last thing she could need right now is
injuring herself and returning to the forest for shelter would probably be the
wisest thing to do at the moment.
Back at the foot of the hill she starts to hurry over to the
trees, hoping she will be fast enough to find shelter before the storm reaches her.
Yet she is stopped in her tracks as the next squall hits the land.
The waves behind her sound louder and louder clashing
against the shore faster and faster as if they try to reclaim this part of the
land for the sea again, with all the might given to them by the blackened beast.
The trees in front of her sway back and forth, seemingly even
entwining around each other. As branches
hit and leaves rustle they create a sound similar to a sinister laughter.
It's just an illusion, the young woman quietly says to
herself while looking down and slowly shaking her head again, telling her this
isn't real whilst holding on to her forehead with her right hand.
The winds start tearing at the still beautifully clean white
nightdress she is wearing as if they wanted to rip it clean off her firm, svelte
body.
Crossing her arms over her chest as if she wanted to hold on
to this frail piece of cloth, offering at least some resort of warmth, she
raises her head only to see that the clouds seem to have circled around her.
For now they also slowly appear behind the tops of the
trees, making their way towards the moon and preparing themselves to cover up
the bright source of light up on the sky itself that was showing her the way
along the path and giving her all those hope and dreams.
Everything around her grows darker by the second as more and
more of the sky is covered up.
She takes another look around and sees how everything is now
almost filled up with huge blackened clouds everywhere round her.
She winces at the first loud thunder erupting through the air,
a sound striking enough to almost let her burst out in tears.
Soon it would be too late for taking cover the storm had
almost arrived here in full force.
And just as she lifts her foot to take the next step towards
the woods the freshly found darkness lingering all around her is ripped apart
by a glistening bright light as a flash of lightning splits the clouds and
strikes the tree nearest to her.
Her foot returning only slowly to the ground she stands
there as if turned into stone, watching how the tree is lit like a simple
candle.
Her heart is beating fast as the burning tree is swaying in
the breeze, showing all kinds of grotesque faces and fast the rustling of the
leaves turns from a kind of laughter to screams echoing in her ears.
The flames devour the branches of the treetop quickly and
with an endless hunger, eager to jump to the other plants and creatures nearby,
just like a wicked plague.
A second bolt of lightning is visible a bit further away
soon after the first, also striking down into a tree deeper inside of what the
young woman had looked at as shelter only seconds earlier, like an ill joke of
fate. Smoke arises from the middle of the forest as more fire starts to spread.
Luckily nature already began to respond to this fiery threat
as the first rain drops start falling from the sky. They form rather large and
it will not take long for them to be many enough to keep the blazing flames
under control.
The young woman though is still standing there watching as
the first unlucky drops hit the flaming treetops leaving this world again not
even seconds later with a tormented hissing sound.
So this is how raindrops are dying, she says to herself in a
low voice, making her spirit rise a bit as she silently has to laugh about her
own silly thoughts, not even giving in to any of the gruesomeness hidden
underneath.
As more and more raindrops start coming, rushing down to the
earth, the fires grow smaller by the minute. The rain eats them up relentlessly
to the very last flame, just as the fire would have done with the trees had it
not come otherwise.
Yet of course nature doesn’t stop by pouring water solely
all over the forest.
The clouds extend fast all around the woman, leaving her no
chance to stay dry at all.
The white nightdress now doesn’t flutter in the wind any
longer instead it clings tightly to her body the wet fabric outlining her
breasts and hips perfectly, highlighting the beauty of her unspoiled youth.
She shivers as a breeze skips through the falling rain,
reminding her of the cold governing this place, now that the fire had been
drenched, it appeared even stronger.
The last flames now finally die away sending up a steady
stream of smoke as she decides to look around one last time before venturing into
the forest in order to stay out of the wind at least.
While the waves keep hitting against the rocks of the cliff,
more flashes of lightning are dancing through the clouds over the sea, one of
them so near, it illuminates the whole surrounding of the cliff for several
seconds.
The woman’s skin is as white as snow, the curls of her
auburn hair now also giving up against the masses of water, falling evenly
behind her shoulders, and holding onto her skin.
Looking up the hill with the stone again she narrows her
eyes, unsure if she could trust them. In the place where she circled the stone
only minutes earlier, now a hooded figure is standing staring out at the vast
open sea.
She looks at the figure for a moment before shortly closing
her eyes in disbelief and rubbing them with the only effect of getting water
into her eyes.
After opening them again the hooded figure is still standing
there, gazing into the endless void the horizon offers to those seeking.
She fully turns around and takes a careful step towards him,
as more and more water is being poured over her.
Standing still for a second, she notices a slight movement from
under the hood.
Who could it be, standing up there?
Slowly a next step follows. Her curiosity has taken over yet
again, the urge to find out more about the person holding watch at the edge of
the cliff. From her point of view he or she is completely engulfed by the
darkness of the night. Her eyes lie upon the shadowy figure as another
lightning bolt lightens up the area again, her only means of seeing just a
little bit more.
For the fracture of a second she beliefs to see the face of
a man with ice-blue eyes and a strand of ebony hair in front of them, looking
down at her from over his shoulder.
Just as fast as the first flash of lightning came and
vanished again, a second one strikes down from the sky, not even leaving the
thunder enough time to catch up from the one before.
With the second flash of light she, again, only sees the
back of his blackened hood, asking herself if that really had been his face or
only her mind playing another ill trick on her.
The rain keeps on soaking through the white nightdress as
she draws closer to the foot of the hill, leaving not a single dry spot as she
shivers under a growing chill.
The person up there on the other hand, he remains standing
there unchanged without the slightest bit of movement.
Carefully and quietly she climbs up the slope, praying in
silence not to slip off any of the stones so she would indeed not hurt herself.
As she finally reaches the top her heart is racing, beating
wildly in anticipation as she lets out a deep breath due to a sudden fatigue. She
wants to speak to the person but without knowing what she should say, she
remains quiet for a moment longer.
It feels like ages pass as she hesitates to get any closer.
Swallowing hard to gather all the courage she has left she
takes another two steps, lifting her arm to try and touch the person’s right
shoulder.
Yet another lightning bursts through the clouds as the
hooded figure slowly turns to her. Almost jumping backwards the young woman takes
a step away, also quick to retrieve her arm.
A shiver runs up and down her spine as the person is staring
at her from under his hood, his face still not visible to her.
There is movement under the long cloak, as two arms push aside
the black fabric reaching up to his head also unveiling the red velvet covering
the inner side of the coat.
As the rain slowly eases off in the right moment, the man
pushes back the hood revealing his face to the young woman. His skin is
pristine and as white as marble, his facial outlining rather slim but still
distinctive. His eyes shine forth in a strong and colourful green, while his
black hair, which is at least shoulder-long, is as dark as the night itself.
His expression is stern but still, she does not feel repelled by it, somehow it
fits him perfectly.
Not noticing how she is staring at him, she pictures him as
a work of art in her mind, two large emeralds embedded into marble and
surrounded by a frame of ebony - a perfect portrait, if not even a statue.
He slowly lifts his arms once more, seemingly holding on to
the coating, as he reveals his black suit he is wearing underneath it, opening
up, making room for the young woman. Finally a place where she would find
shelter!
Carefully her eyes follow every movement he makes. The
expression on his face remaining the same, he shortly nods once as their eyes
meet. As he keeps standing still she hesitantly takes a step towards him.
Something in her mind tells her that she would be safe, that he would protect
her at all cost.
Another step towards him follows, yet still something is
holding her back, something seems not right about him.
As she almost stands directly in front of him, a foot or two
away, he lowers his arms a bit and slightly tilts his head sideways.
"...Seraphine...
"
He slowly speaks her name.
But what was this? The woman reacts with shock, her eyes
open wide. How could he know it? Why?
Why did he know her name?
An unknown horror creeps up inside her, panic reaches out
for her idle thoughts happily devouring them up to the very last and turning
them into blank fear.
Within a second she closes her eyes and blindly turns trying
to run away.
While turning, her foot slips off the side of a stone
leaving a small, yet happily bleeding cut behind.
Her attempt to escape is brought to a sudden stop as she
runs into the stranger’s chest after only a few steps taken.
She opens her eyes and looks up to his face, as he easily
over-towers her by about a foot in height.
How could this be possible, she questioned herself?
A sole tear came running down her cheek remains to be the
sole response.
"My,
my..."
With two fingers the man wipes away her lone tear leaving a
terrible chill in the place he had touched her. His voice is actually quite
calm and gentle, even soothing to a point, but still her heart keeps on racing
far too much.
He puts his hand under Seraphines chin to slightly push her
head a bit upwards so he could look into her amber eyes.
The two emeralds seem to be burning their way straight into
the back of her head, yet she finds to be unable to look away after their eyes
had met for not even a split second. She just can't, even if she would want to,
not even for a second or two.
With his right hand he slowly begins running up the side of
her body in her paralysis. As he reaches the base of the neck his hand gently
moves back to the shoulder sliding the strap of her nightdress to the side and
almost off her body.
Everywhere his hand had been, the touch now released an
endless freezing. It feels so cold it inflicts pain to her.
Despair is taking a firm hold of her as he seems to be
leaning in a little closer.
Yet only for a moment the eyes of the man wander off to the
side, following the path behind Seraphine for a couple of feet.
Her body regaining the ability to move, she struggles and
finally breaks free from the hands of the cloaked man, stumbling backwards onto
the wet grass with unsure steps.
The man follows her instinctively.
Seraphine tries to back off further and further, drawing
closer and closer to the edge.
"...Why
are you trying to run away?"
He asks her with his soothing voice.
For the moment she is too frightened to answer him though, and
only starts wildly shaking her head.
As she tries to take another step she loses her balance and
trips, falling backwards over the edge.
The man dashes towards her, trying to grab her hand in a
last effort, but he is too late. Her body is already rushing towards the rocks
below.
With him leaning over the edge above her she closes her
eyes, trying to remember what caught her attention the most: those emerald
green eyes, as they were stunningly beautiful and frightening alike.
Listening to the melody of the waves hitting against the
rock below her, she gives into her despair and lets out a final scream.
