The Collector

Seeking fun and exploration, Kyleigh travels to Scotland on an invitation. However, unsettling dreams plague her on her stay at a castle on the Highlands, leading her to believe something is amiss.

Isobel and I had arrived in Caithness after a few hours of flying from London to Edinburgh and catching a connecting flight to Wick Airport. When my feet touched the ground, I nearly cried, feeling relieved to have made it to Scotland unscathed. When we exited the glass-paneled, automatic doors of the airport, there was a car waiting for us. After loading our oversized luggage into the trunk, the well-groomed driver ushered us to the backseat door and opened it for us with a curt bow. We slid into the back row and, without further hesitation, were whisked off towards Isobel’s ancestral home. My friend told me nothing of its history, except that it was hundreds of years old and needed some airing out.

Thrown together at the beginning of the year, Isobel Keith and I, Kyleigh Blaire, were dorm-mates at a prestigious boarding school. She was new to the all-girls boarding school experience, having been home-schooled in her native Scotland before transferring to England for what her uncle called a “superior education.” Although I may not have exactly agreed with her elusive uncle, I was glad for the company, having very few friends to converse with.

It wasn’t long after moving in that she brought up the idea of traveling to Scotland on our winter break. I jumped at the opportunity. Before her invitation, I was prepared to spend the holidays on campus since my parents were set to take their yearly vacation to Bermuda. Sadly, their trips never included the child they had abandoned in boarding school at the tender age of eight. Now in my final year of school, I was a mere burden that had to be pawned off so that they could be free to enjoy the pleasures in life. Raising children was obviously not what they had in mind when contemplating such pleasures so they quickly agreed to my request to travel to another country without parental supervision.

Although I saw how easy it was for them to cast me off, I harbored no hard feelings towards my parents, choosing to forgive their flaws rather than let my own bitterness gnaw away at my soul. I realized early in life that not all parents were meant to be mothers and fathers. As pathetic as it was, some were destined to be eternally immature for such an undertaking, leaving their offspring to raise themselves rather than meet the challenge head on.

Tucking a few strands of dark red hair behind her ear, Isobel smiled at me brightly. “We’re here, Leigh!” she exclaimed excitedly, throwing her door open and jumping out of the car before it had reached a complete stop.

Sliding across the seat, I stepped out of the car slowly, looking up at the massive structure before me. As my eyes focused, they brushed across the dark gray stone surface of a large, rectangular tower. The center portion of the structure was taller than it was wide, standing at least five stories tall, with two smaller wings on either side. The smaller right wing was two stories taller than the left and featured a turret. While the left wing was wider, it contained only one level under its flat roof. The main portion of the fortress was composed of stone with the typical merlons and crenels along the top of the main tower. The overcast sky gave the tower an atmospheric gloom that instantly gave me a chill.

It was as daunting as any place that at one time was the seat of power and wealth. However, it seemed to captivate me in a way that was puzzling. Glossing over each stone until my eyes reached the top, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread wash over me like ice water. My heart began to pound, and my breathing began to accelerate to the point of hyperventilation.

With the sparkle draining from her green eyes, Isobel watched me carefully. “What’s wrong?” she questioned, appearing concerned as she glanced back at me. “You look pale.”

“Nothing,” I replied, shaking my head forcefully in response although secretly I did feel unwell.

Nodding at my response, my reply didn’t seem to ease her concern as the crease between her brows remained prominently on her forehead. “I suppose we are a bit tired,” she replied, reaching for my shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. “A nap will do us good.”

Gazing upon her friendly face, I smiled and nodded, hoping that my face projected a more serene appearance than the feelings I currently harbored in my interior. Without cause or reason, there was a deep sense of foreboding in my core that, before that moment, I had only read about in novels. Something was wrong. I just couldn’t put my finger on what although my anxiety levels were through the roof.

“Just leave the bags in the main hall,” she ordered the driver, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Yes, Ms. Keith.”

As Isobel walked towards the entrance, I walked behind her, trying to bury the feelings that seemed to have been stirred within me. Suddenly feeling the weight of my tired body, I hoped that after a long nap I would wake up with a new outlook on the castle.

After being led up the main stairs, Isobel and I walked across a heavily decorated corridor. Intrigued, I gazed at the paintings which hung on the wallpapered walls. My eyes stopped upon a large painting of an elderly man in a dark suit, standing with a rifle in his hands and a hound at his feet. Although it was hard to envision what the man had looked like in his youth, I could tell he must have been quite handsome. He appeared tall and slender. His gray hair was parted on the side and slicked back in an elegant style. His face was angular and quite masculine with a set jaw. However, it was his eyes that took my breath away. They were so lifelike... so familiar.

“It is a portrait of, my great, great, great grandfather, D. James Keith,” Isobel said upon seeing me admire the painting.

“What does the ‘D’ stand for?”

“An unusual Scottish name... Dugald. But there was some kind of tragedy in his life, and he began to go by, his middle name, James.”

Turning, I looked at her in her eyes, seeing that they were the same as the portrait. “I can see the resemblance,” I told her, giving her a weak smile.

When I was done looking at the painting, we turned a corner and ended up standing before a smaller, circular staircase. We climbed the stone stairs and ended up on the third floor. The windowless hall was narrower and sparsely decorated in this area compared to the historic portraits, wooden furnishings, and sculptures of the lower levels.

Brushing away a few dark strands from my face, I looked about, trying to spot anything that needed fixing. “Everything seems in good condition,” I commented, wondering why she needed my help to clean out the castle when everything seemed in order.

Glancing back at me, she said, “The lower levels are in good shape. It is the fourth and fifth floors of the tower that need sorting. Those rooms need some airing out. I want to surprise my uncle with a little winter cleaning. But it can be put off until tomorrow.”

My friend ushered me to a room at the end of the short corridor. As soon as she opened the door, I was amazed. The room was fit for a princess, complete with a large canopy bed covered in lush, golden fabric and tufted chairs that had been upholstered in complementary tones. A cream-colored vanity equipped with all the necessary tools for primping was located on an adjacent wall. On the far wall, two large windows, which were framed by heavy tasseled drapes, showcased the most incredible view of the North Sea.

“Is this for me?”

With a large smile, she nodded. “It is the princess suite.”

With a huge smile spreading over my face, I turned to Isobel excitedly. “This is more than I ever expected,” I commented, clapping my hands together lightly.

“Well, not many people would travel all this way to help out a friend,” she told me, appearing suddenly thoughtful. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

As Isobel was stepping out of the threshold, I held her back and she looked at me quizzically. “What about your uncle?” I questioned, suddenly curious. “When will he be joining us?”

“My uncle keeps odd hours, but I am sure he will make his appearance known soon,” she said, her face appearing distant as if caught up in a memory.

Before I could ask her what she was thinking, she excused herself, leaving to her own quarters without further delay. Shutting the bedchamber door, I wondered if I should even bring up how her face changed at the mention of her uncle. It was obvious returning home stirred up some memories for her, and I felt that asking about them was an intrusion.

Jumping on the mattress, I stretched my limbs as I reclined, allowing myself to sink into the soft mattress. Left to my own devices, I decided to catch up on some much needed sleep.

My short nap was ineffective. The lull of the ocean waves wasn’t enough to calm my nerves and rest my mind enough to promote a deep sleep. Instead, I slept for minutes at a time, feeling as if I hadn’t rested at all. After an hour of trying to rest, I decided that a nap was not in the cards for me. Rising from the bed, I made my way to the vanity and sat down, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Gazing at my reflection, I gasped in surprise, barely recognizing the image staring back at me.

I appeared to have aged overnight.

Realizing that my sudden exhaustion could have given me the appearance of aging, I traced my features, noting the changes in my appearance with dismay. I looked tired with dark circles framing my almond-shaped, blue eyes. Staring into the reflection of my eyes without blinking, I realized they were a bit dull, seeming dimmer than their normal cyan color. I missed their normal sparkle but realized it was a consequence of being exhausted. My pale skin seemed unusually colorless as my cheeks had lost their rosy glow. Placing a hand on my cheek, I noticed my heart-shaped lips were not their normal ruby tone. They, too, had lost their color, appearing slightly darker than my complexion.

Making a resolution to go to bed early that night, I grabbed a rubber band and started to collect my shoulder-length, black hair into my hands. Combing through my tresses with my fingers, I picked it up into a ponytail just as there was a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I called.

The door opened, and Isobel peeked her head inside. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab something to eat at the local dive.”

Suddenly feeling the emptiness of my stomach, I realized I was in need of some comfort food. I also liked the idea of catching the sights at the local pub. “Sure,” I said with a nod, hopping to my feet and following her out the door.

We climbed into a vintage Volkswagen Beetle. The black car was constructed in the 1970’s and still drove smoothly, hugging all of the winding roads that led to the village. The interior of the car had recently been refurbished as it was covered in black leather that still had that new smell.

Carefully driving with two hands on the wheel, Isobel took her eyes off the road for a second to glance at me as I sat in the passenger’s side. “I wanted a black Corvette for my first car, but my uncle had other ideas,” she laughed, leaning towards the wheel like an anxious driver. “It has a few dings, but it still runs well.”

“Not exactly a Corvette, though,” I commented, looking out of the window at the scenery.

“Well, my uncle believes in earning life’s little luxuries, and it seems my inheritance was not established for such frivolous spending,” she said, appearing to impersonate her mysterious uncle. “Besides, first cars should always be purchased used since first time drivers are reckless.”

Laughing, I nodded in agreement. “Sound advice.”

We stopped at a small pub, located on the outskirts of town. The pub looked like nothing more than a small wooden shack between wheat fields and a town that was virtually nonexistent. When we entered, I instantly felt at home in such a relaxed atmosphere which seemed the exact opposite as when I arrived at the castle. As expected, we were met with curious stares, but the twenty or so patrons seemed to quickly grow bored with staring at us and resumed their activities.

We sat at a small wooden table and ordered our meal. We watched the locals play pool from across the room and exchanged stories from our childhoods. It wasn’t long before our meal arrived that Isobel excused herself to the restroom.

When the waitress brought over our platters of chicken and chips, she smiled at me, appearing eager to make small talk. “You’re not from around here, right? What are you doing in these parts?”

She appeared friendly enough, standing at an unintimidating five foot three inches. She wore the casual pub’s uniform of a black t-shirt and blue jeans. Her brown hair was as straight as a pin and was drawn up in a ponytail. Her smile was bright and appeared genuine. Her face was pretty and kind with bright green eyes that were as clear as glass. Her pale complexion was youthful, giving her the appearance of someone in their late teens.

Trying to be friendly, I nodded, meeting her smile. “I am staying with a friend for the break. We are going to fix up her family’s home,” I responded pleasantly. “You might know it. It is the castle down the road.”

As soon as I finished my sentence, her smile faded, and her eyes nearly came out of their sockets. “But... that place is cursed.”

It appeared it was my turn to be surprised. Feeling my heart begin to quicken its beat, I asked, “What do you mean?”

She sat in the empty seat by me momentarily, leaning in so she couldn’t be heard. “The castle is haunted by the Green Lady,” she told me, her eyes large with fright. “It is said she threw herself off of the battlements, but no one knows for sure. She may have been pushed. They say her spirit walks the tower at night, seeking to bring other young ladies to their ends.”

Shifting in my seat, my nervousness increased. I was definitely uneasy in the castle, but the idea of a haunting was too far fetched for me. I didn’t believe in ghosts whatsoever, but if they existed, I doubted they had the ability to lead the living to their deaths. “That is an interesting story.”

“It is not a story,” she said abruptly, rising to her feet. “You shouldn’t stay there, Miss. It isn’t safe. Bad things went on there that you have no business messing with.”

“Well, I can assure you, Jasmine, we won’t be messing with anything supernatural,” Isobel said, coming in so quietly I hadn’t noticed her return. My friend eyed the young waitress as if warning her with her eyes but said nothing threatening openly. “Jasmine loves her stories.”

The girl appeared increasingly uncomfortable and excused herself without another word.

Pulling out her seat, Isobel joined me at the table. Her mood instantly lightened, and she laughed humorlessly. “It is just some silly story meant to frighten visitors away. The town is full of them.”

Pushing away any anxiety that might have been stirred up within me, I nodded in agreement, having an awkward chuckle as we ate our meal in silence.

* * *

The halls were dark as everyone in the house was sound asleep. I received confirmation of this fact when I heard the soft purring of their unconscious breath through their bedchamber doors. Sneaking about the castle, I found myself standing barefoot before the circular staircase which led to the upper levels... the forbidden levels. Torches lined the walls with their flickering, orange flame, allowing me to view each step without straining.

With some trepidation, I glanced about before returning my gaze to the staircase. Confident that I was not being watched, I started to ascend, gasping as my warm foot made contact with the first cold stone step. Hoping that I hadn’t made enough noise to stir the others from their slumber, I ran up the stairs quickly, bouncing on the tips of my toes to prevent my feet from freezing.

Once I reached the top, I grabbed the nearest torch, removing it from its iron holder and using it to light the passageway. Walking down the dark corridor, I ignored the first chamber and headed for the second. When I reached my destination, I looked back once more. Seeing nothing out of order, I tested the door, but it did not open. It was locked as it had been many times before.

Feeling my heart palpitating in my chest like a drum, I knocked softly. “Is anyone in there?” I asked in a whisper, cautiously looking over my shoulder.

Silence.

Shifting my weight nervously, I put my ear to the wooden door, trying to hear the slightest noise. There was nothing but a deafening silence that chilled me to the bone. “If there is anyone there, I am coming in,” I forewarned, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I reached into the pocket of my robe, pulling out an antique key attached to a silver chain. Fearing what I would find on the other side of the door, I held my breath as I pushed the key into the keyhole and turned it, hearing the metal fixings click. Leaving the key in the door, I reached for the knob and pushed the door open...

A blaring scream woke me from my sleep. It took me a few seconds for my brain to register the source of the scream was my own throat. Struggling for breath, I held my hand to my chest as if forcing my lungs to accept the oxygen that filled the room. Looking around at my surroundings for any immediate dangers, my heart stilled when I realized I was alone. Recognizing the decor of my room, I was able to control my fear and come to grips with the fact that I had only been dreaming.

Just a dream, I thought, raking my hands through my hair.

I felt relieved, knowing that it wasn’t real. I admonished myself for allowing my nerves from the day before to invade my sleep. I hated being spooked by foolish nonsense. My nerves seemed to be on edge without a source for such feelings. I was sure that keeping my mind to other things would put an end to any feelings of anxiety.

With the soft light of dawn pouring in from the windows, I threw off the sheets and decided to start the day. I washed up and dressed quickly, choosing to wear a pair of faded skinny jeans and blue t-shirt that matched my eyes perfectly. Sweeping my black hair up in a tight bun, I exited the bedchamber, walking down the hall and pausing at the circular staircase.

Looking up, I had flashbacks of the dream. The staircase was the same. The torches were gone, but there were still traces of the iron holders indented in the stone wall. Tracing the indentations with my fingertips, I wondered if my mixed feelings about the castle were really leaking into my subconscious, causing me to have the nightmare. If so, how could I have known the staircase had been lined with torches?

Maybe the waitress’ story was still lingering in my mind and took the forefront while I dreamed. Yet, she never mentioned the castle’s decor. My mind raced with the possibilities, stirring up the same feelings of dread I had when I arrived.

Before I frightened myself, I shook those thoughts from my head, making my way downstairs without further delay. I made my way to the dining hall where I found Isobel. She had already begun to eat her breakfast of eggs, toast, black pudding, and coffee.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Isobel greeted me with a warm smile while chewing on a piece of toast.

“Good morning,” I responded, taking a seat close to her at the rectangular table.

Within seconds, a servant entered the room. She was holding a plate of potato scones and a pot of fresh coffee. Standing at a petite five foot one, the woman was between her mid-fifties or sixties with a full-figured frame. She had warm eyes that were the color of honey, and a dimpled smile. Overall, she had a kind face which was framed by thick gray hair which was pulled back away from her face.

Turning my attention from the maid to Isobel, I asked, “What time did you get up?”

“Oh, I am usually awake before the sun comes up,” my friend responded, glancing at the maid. “Kyleigh, this is Moira. She helps with the cooking around here.”

“Hello, Moira,” I greeted brightly, a large smile spreading across my face.

She nodded her head in greeting, placing the pot of coffee on the table near an empty cup and saucer. “What would you like?” she asked, motioning towards the plate of scones she placed near Isobel.

“Oh, just some eggs and toast,” I responded, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

She excused herself, dashing to the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you had a cook,” I commented astonished at the idea of someone catering to her every culinary need.

Taking a scone, Isobel offered me the plate, but I declined. “You can’t expect my uncle to do the cooking. Somehow I can envision him burning down the castle just boiling water,” she quipped. “Moira comes in the mornings to cook for the day. By the time we finish breakfast, she will have lunch and dinner started. All we need to do is reheat.”

“Why does she cook so early?” I asked Isobel, trying to make small talk as Moira entered with my breakfast.

“Because I don’t like to be in the castle after dark,” Moira replied, glancing from me to Isobel.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I leaned forward in my seat. “Why not?” I questioned, suddenly curious.

Moira looked at me in the eyes and said, “It is said the castle is haunted by the Green Lady�"”

“Oh, please, Moira,” Isobel interrupted, obviously annoyed. “Not that again.”

Averting her eyes in apparent shame, Moira concentrated on my face once more, and I encouraged her to speak. “I have never believed in spirits. I, myself, have never seen the Green Lady, but I have heard strange sounds in the area at night. Blood curdling screams with no apparent source. I can’t stay here at night. I won’t.”

“These screams were probably just the crows squawking,” Isobel offered, trying to be a voice of reason. “Sometimes they sound like that.”

With her eyes as wide as saucers, Moira shifted her weight from one foot to another, appearing uncomfortable with the subject. “No,” she replied, shaking her head forcefully. “They say these lands are cursed. Women disappear.”

“Well, I am still here,” my friend responded brashly. “I have lived here most of my life, and I haven’t disappeared into the walls yet.”

Looking down at the floor, I realized the cook felt embarrassed by her beliefs. After all, most people would not readily volunteer their beliefs in the supernatural. Such subjects were still discussed with skepticism. “Well, the ‘blood curdling scream’ you may have heard this morning was mine. I had a nightmare last night.”

Isobel turned her attention towards me but said nothing.

“That is how it starts, Miss,” Moira said cryptically, lifting her gaze from the floor and meeting my eyes. “The Green Lady is reaching out to you.”

Before I could give Moira’s words much thought, Isobel scoffed. “Oh, stop it. It is obviously the excitement of traveling somewhere new. It was your first night in a new environment. It probably won’t happen again. You probably won’t even remember your dreams tonight, because you will have gotten used to your bed and have fallen soundly asleep.”

I nodded, hoping that would be the case.

After breakfast, Isobel and I decided to start our day at the top of the tower on the fifth floor. As we made our way up the circular staircase, I couldn’t help but feel a chill. Hearing the click of my shoes on the stone floor was eerie, but my mind seemed to drift on other things.

Something about that dream had been gnawing away at me, but I didn’t dare mention it in front of Isobel. I didn’t want to frustrate her with further talk of the paranormal. I truly wanted this vacation to be a fun one, but the nagging in the pit of my stomach prevented me from relaxing.

Passing the fourth level, I realized it was almost exactly the way I had envisioned which puzzled me. Glancing down the hall momentarily, I saw the wooden door from my dream. It was closed and appeared to be locked. However, this part of the house was neglected, and I fully expected to enter it under the guise of a helpful friend. Yet, I wanted to enter that chamber as soon as possible to see the thing that possibly scared me in my nightmare. I had no idea what I had seen, but if it was there to be seen, then I wanted to know what it was that frightened me.

Still, a part of me wished that a dream could just be a dream. The odds were slim that it had any foundation in truth. After all, I had been feeling anxious, and anxiety could lead to nightmares. I just didn’t know what to think. Perhaps entering that chamber could give me some peace, especially if there is nothing but covered furniture and dust mites. Besides, my rational mind kept reminding me that such things never turn out to be real, and yet, logic didn’t ease my distress.

We entered the first chamber, and I set my cleaning supplies down on the wooden floor.

“You take this room,” Isobel ordered, walking across the room and opening the dusty curtains.

When the sunlight penetrated the dust-covered windows, I was able to see that this room was in fact a bedroom. It was a small room, and yet, it was large enough to house a four-poster bed. The furniture was protected under tarps so it was impossible to see everything that filled the small space, but I was excited to explore the hidden treasures that were hidden underneath.

“I will start on the room next door,” Isobel continued, brushing her red hair away from her face with her fingertips. “The curtains will need washing so just throw those in a garbage bag. Sort through everything. If you think something is useless, it probably is. Don’t hesitate to get rid of it. My uncle hangs onto things that have no use so I imagine you will find a lot of junk in here.”

I nodded as Isobel moved into the next room. I removed the heavy curtains and placed them into an oversized bag for washing. I placed my bucket next to me and started scrubbing the windows clean. However, I noticed that no amount of cleaning on the inside could allow rays of sunlight to penetrate through the grime on the outside of the glass. Finding that the windows opened inwardly, I clicked open the lock and swung them open, letting the sea breeze into the room. Taking a deep breath, I began cleaning the panes, one by one. By the time I was done, the windows looked like crystal, separating the rays of sunlight through their panes like a kaleidoscope.

The walls in this part of the house were thick stone and needed a serious scrub down. Running my finger along the stone, I inspected my grime covered fingertip and decided the walls needed the same treatment as the windows. I found a scrub brush in my pile of cleaning tools and cleaning soaps. Adding soap into the bucket, I dunked the brush into the water, ensuring there was nothing hanging on the walls that could get damaged. When I was certain the walls were clear, I started scrubbing them clean. The room was small, but the task was time consuming with all the nooks and crannies of the stone.

By the time I was done, it was lunch time. Isobel and I abandoned our work, and we headed downstairs. We entered the kitchen, finding that Moira had already left for home. We put together sandwiches and ate quickly before returning to our work.

Looking around the bedchamber, I realized I still had so much work to do. I estimated that it would take me two whole days to finish this room to my liking. Isobel and I wouldn’t even get near the fourth floor before sundown. With no electricity on the upper levels, cleaning by candlelight would be a problem. I had to complete what I could before the sun went down and start up again in the morning.

I started to mop the floors but realized I could not really clean all of the floors until the furniture was uncovered. Leaning the mop against the wall, I started to remove dusty tarps and placing them in trash bags. By the time I was done, I uncovered the rest of the four-poster bed, a wooden trunk, and an oak wardrobe on the far side of the room. Other than that the room was relatively plain with no paintings or accessories.

Appearing as if they hadn’t been changed in a hundred years, I stripped the filthy sheets from the bed, throwing them off to the side. On a quest for new sheets, I walked across the room and opened the wardrobe, finding it empty.

Glancing about the room, my eyes stopped at the trunk at the foot of the bed. Walking towards the trunk, my thoughts drifted to what could have been hidden within. I knelt before the trunk and clicked it open. Curious, I lifted the lid and let my eyes take in its contents.

With a gasp, I reached into the trunk and pulled out a ruby-colored gown with long sleeves. The dress was made from silk which may seem rare for those living in the Highlands of Scotland, but whoever lived in this castle was most certainly rich and could afford to import such fabrics.

I overlapped the dress onto my torso and looked down into the trunk for more treasures. I saw another satin gown; however, this one was emerald green in color with delicate lace trim around the collar. There were also two pairs of black leather shoes and a gold locket within the chest. I reached into the trunk and grabbed the locket. The locket was plain and did not have the ornate scrollwork of jewelry today. However, the initials H.G.K. were inscribed on the back of the locket. I understood this to mean that the owner of the locket was a Keith just like Isobel. Opening the locket, I found it empty which was curious. Usually, a woman would keep a lock of hair or a small painting since the locket would have been worn before the time of photographs.

Placing the locket back where I found it, I rose to my feet. Holding the gown in place, I whirled around the room pretending I lived in another time. Smiling to myself, I held the top of the dress with one hand and held the skirt in the other as I danced, pretending to be in a ballroom surrounded by people. I could almost hear the murmuring of the crowd in my imagination as I moved about.

“What are you doing?” I heard a deep and angry voice question, jarring me from my fantasy.

Dropping the dress on the floor in my surprise, I gawked at the figure standing in the doorway, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. Embarrassed, my heart began to beat heavily in my chest. The pounding caused me to clutch my sternum in an attempt to sooth my nerves. Gasping for breath, I felt as if I were caught doing something I shouldn’t have.

I took in the man at the doorway and noted that he was tall, standing at over six foot. He stood with his hands on his narrow hips. As if appraising him, I noticed his body was lean with broad shoulders. This man was attractive to the senses, but he was brooding, judging from his pout. His eyes were green and intense as they met my own. He had an angular jaw which was bulging in his anger. He had a masculine but youthful appearance, making him look no older than his mid-twenties.

He wore a pair of blue jeans and a green cashmere sweater which matched his eyes perfectly. On his feet, he wore a pair of brown loafers, a clue to his maturity. He could have been in his thirties, but I struggled with him being any older than that.

Brushing his chestnut hair back with his hand, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the dress which was lying in a pool of satin on the floor. “What are you doing?” he asked again in a heavily accented voice.

Picking up the dress hastily and placing it back into the trunk, I extended my hand in greeting, trying to still my beating heart. “My name is Kyleigh Blaire. I am Isobel’s friend.”

His face softened as he took in my frightened form. “Yes, I know who you are,” he said softening as he scratched his head. “What did you think you were doing with that dress?”

Not knowing what to answer, I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “I was admiring it.”

Just then Isobel came bouncing into the room, giving the man a huge hug. “Leigh, this is my uncle, Lucas Keith. I told him all about you.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

He brushed off my greeting as his handsome face appeared troubled. “I am sorry I overreacted. It is just that the dress holds some... sentimental value. It was the wedding gown of my great, great, great grandfather’s wife.”

Standing innocently with my hands behind my back, I nodded in understanding. “I understand,” I replied, still fidgeting.

Mr. Keith turned his attention back to Isobel. “I did not know you were going to be cleaning out these rooms on your vacation.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise for you,” she said, smiling. “Do you like it?”

Lucas nodded. “I see that you have made excellent progress on this level, my dear,” he told his niece as she beamed up at him. “I would hate for your vacation to be all work. Perhaps... it is time for a break. You can resume in the morning.”

“I think that is a wonderful idea,” Isobel replied brightly with a broad smile. “I am worn out and could use a nap.”

Although Isobel didn’t appear tired, I knew she could probably use some lounge time. I contemplated a nice bubble bath to wash away all the grime from beneath my fingernails. I nodded in agreement as I slithered past Lucas and into the hall, joining Isobel as we retreated to our bedchambers for some relaxation time.

As I entered my bedchamber, I glanced out the window momentarily, realizing the sun was going down earlier than I expected. Shutting the door, I stood before it with my eyes catching on the latch. I felt overwhelmed by a sudden need to protect myself... to bar the door. The sensation was unexplainable, but I listened to my instincts and flipped the lock closed. Testing the latch to make sure it was locked, I exhaled, feeling secure once more.

Since my luggage was brought up by Moira earlier in the day, I was able to sort through my clothes. Finding some comfortable lounge clothes in my luggage, I threw them on the mattress, readying myself for a long soak in the tub. When I was done with my bubble bath some time later, I dressed and climbed into bed, feeling suddenly exhausted.

My eyelids grew heavy, fluttering closed, and I drifted into unconsciousness.

I stood before my bedchamber door, hearing a voice on the other side. It was beckoning me... calling me by name. Compelled by an overwhelming desire to follow it, I reached for the latch and unlocked the door. I opened it, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark.

“Hello?” I called softly into the corridor, sensing my body had erupted in gooseflesh. I could feel my limbs shaking so hard I wondered if my legs could hold me up. With my heart beating nearly out of my chest, I questioned if it was wise to roam about the castle in the dark.

Suddenly, I saw a sliver of movement at the end of the hall, but the form blended with the shadows, making it hard to identify the mysterious figure.

Curious, I ran towards it without thought for my own safety. Seeing movement by the circular staircase, I followed, thinking I could catch them. However, their form disappeared further into the darkness, and I was forced to use my other senses. I waited by the threshold to the staircase, anticipating a clue to the person’s whereabouts. I concentrated hard on anything I could hear, but it was hard to hear anything over the beating of my own heart which pounded in my ears. Trying to still my breaths and decrease the rate of my heartbeats with my mind, I tried to focus harder on the space around me. After a few seconds, my hearing became keener, and I managed to make out the soft sound of footsteps descending the stone staircase.

“Wait!” I called as I began to descend, running down the stone steps as fast as I could, but it was physically impossible for me to reach the figure.

Just as I reached the end of the round staircase, I ran down the second floor hall leading to the main stairs, hoping to find the figure descending. Seeing no one in the darkness, I decided to search the main floor. Before I could descend, I saw movement from the corner of my eye. Turning on my heel, I watched as a paned-glass door swung gently shut. The door led outside to a rooftop terrace located over the castle’s one story right wing. The terrace at the other side of the door was composed of the same stone that covered the castle and was surrounded by a half wall of merlons and crenels. There was no decor which decorated this outdoor space since it was rarely used.

Trying to calm my beating heart, I exhaled slowly as I approached the door. Wiping my sweaty palm on my pant leg, I inhaled quickly, reaching for the doorknob before I had time to think.

Swinging the door open, I stepped outside and instantly realized I was not alone. There was a woman covered under the shadow of night. As she stood on the other end of the terrace, I could tell her back was to me as she was looking out at the plains.

Seeing the outline of her form, I could tell that her height and build was similar to my own. She wore a gown that was fitted at the top with long sleeves. The skirt of the dress was a full A-line and reached the stone pavers. A small train was noticeable as the back of it pooled on the ground. It was impossible to tell what color the dress was although it did appear to be a deep jewel tone.

Unable to look away, I stared at the woman intently, hoping she would solve the mystery and reveal her identity.

Transfixed, I watched as she turned her head as if to look at me over her shoulder. I could see now that she wore a high bun with soft tendrils framing her face; however, her features were still hidden in shadow.

Slowly, she extended her arm.

It took me a minute to realize she was pointing at something... a single paving stone on the ground. It dawned on me that there was a message on this stone or perhaps it was loose, hiding something underneath. I nodded this in understanding and attempted to approach with some anxiety as I took my first step.

However, this gesture seemed to threaten the lady as she began to scream. It was like a siren to my ears. So shrill was the scream that I instantly fell to my knees, covering my ears with my hands.

Feeling a cool breeze on my skin, I drifted into consciousness. My brain struggled with the images still floating in my head as I realized my eyes were shut so tightly that they spasmed. It took me a moment to feel my hands which were covering my ears.

In the seconds it took to ask myself what had happened, I came out of my daze and back into the present, shocked to find that I was not in my bedchamber. I was outside on the rooftop terrace, crouching beside the loose paving stone. Someone was calling out to me, but in my shock, I could not focus on the world around me. My brain seemed to be on a ten second delay as I realized I walked outside in my sleep. I had never done such a thing in my life.

Suddenly, I felt a tug on my shoulder that pulled me backwards, and I returned into full awareness.

I found myself staring into the bewildered eyes of Lucas Keith. “What are you doing out here, Ms. Blaire?” he asked, appearing concerned as he knelt down beside me. “Do you not feel how cold it is? You will catch your death out here.”

Opening my mouth, I couldn’t bring myself to utter a word. Feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment, I realized that I was slightly less covered than I would have preferred, wearing only a spaghetti-strap tank top and a pair of sweat shorts. My feet felt like ice. I looked down to see they were completely bare. “I�"I had a dream,” I managed to say, averting my eyes.

Lucas looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “You are sitting out here in the freezing cold because... of a dream,” he said, grabbing hold of my arm and trying to pull me up. “Are you mad? Get inside.”

“No!” I screamed, surprising him, and he released me.

Dragging myself back on the ground, I reached for the paving stone. I pounded it with my fist, finding it loose. Digging at the side of it with my fingers, I managed to lift the heavy stone, finding a small chamber hidden underneath.

Lucas looked at me with surprise, glancing from me to the hidden chamber. “What is it?”

Inside the chamber, there was a metal box. It was made of tin and painted with green paint. The box was about six inches wide and four inches in height. I reached for the box, taking hold of it and lifting it out of the hole.

My heart pounded with anticipation. This may be the end to a mystery or the formation of another question. However, I couldn’t wait to examine my discovery. “It is a box,” I said, stating the obvious.

With his green eyes boring into me, Lucas stared at me with a cross between curiosity and bewilderment. “What is in it?”

Smiling, I flipped open the lid, scanning the contents of the box with my eyes. Reaching in, I pulled out a silver charm bracelet. I looked at each one of the heart charms dangling from the links and held it up for Lucas to see. With his brows seemingly sewn together, he took the bracelet from me and examined it silently.

Looking into the box, I saw it was filled with other iteMs. Some of value. Some seemingly useless. I saw a diamond broach and hair pin. Sharing the same space as these items was a red velvet ribbon. I noticed a blue translucent button that seemed to have come off of a coat or some other item of clothing. There was also a tiny emerald ring that must have been owned by a child or a really petite woman.

Lucas placed the bracelet back in the box abruptly, closing the lid while it was still in my hands. “Trinkets. Sometimes children hid the most insignificant things.”

Remembering my vision of the mysterious woman, I knew that the mystery was far deeper than a child hiding random objects. She was real. The images she showed me were real. Finding this keepsake box was confirmation of that. I just had to understand what it all meant. “You think a child did this?” I asked, puzzled.

“Of course,” he said, placing the stone back in place and taking the box from me as he rose to his feet. “Isobel used to love to bury time capsules in the garden. This is no different. I will have a talk with her about this later.”

With that, he turned on his heel and entered the castle, taking the box with him.

The next morning I woke up at the crack of dawn and decided to skip breakfast. Instead, I headed to the fifth floor to conclude my work. After mopping the floors, cleaning the furniture with wood oil, and changing the sheets on the bed, I noticed it was past lunch time, and I had not seen Isobel all morning. The bedchamber she had been working on was in the same state as she had left it the day before, and I wondered if she was feeling well.

When I ventured downstairs, I found her uncle seated at the dining room table, serving himself soup from a tureen at the center of the table. Moira was standing next to him, pouring him a small glass of red wine that was no doubt rare and expensive.

Lucas looked up warily when I entered the room, appearing unhappy to see me. He wore a thin, black v-neck sweater which was made of cashmere. The color made him look mysterious, causing his pale features to pop.

I assumed that I had made an unflattering impression with my antics the night before. He looked at me as if he couldn’t stand to be in my presence... as if I irked him in some way. I knew my behavior wasn’t ordinary, but I couldn’t figure out why it would bother him so much. He had hardly spent any time with Isobel or me.

He smiled politely, motioning towards a seat across the table from him. “Good of you to join us, Ms. Blaire.”

Moira gave me a small smile before she ran in the kitchen, retrieving a bowl and spoon for me.

I sat down as the maid poured me some soup. “Will Isobel be joining us?”

“I haven’t seen the young lady all morning,” Moira commented.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Lucas stated, taking a spoon full of broth into his mouth. “She went to run some errands in town and then to catch up with some acquaintances of hers. She should be back after dinner tonight, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she returns in the morning.”

I nodded, feeling somewhat confused by Isobel’s supposed actions. After all, I was a guest in her house. It wasn’t proper to leave me to my own devices while she went off to have fun with other friends.

Moira excused herself for the day as she prepared to go home. She had mentioned something about dinner being done and reheating it on the stove without burning it. Lucas thanked her as she left the room.

Everything seemed wrong somehow. Isobel and I were supposed to have a girl’s vacation, and yet, she was quick to abandon me. It just didn’t seem right. Why couldn’t she have invited me or at least told me she was going?

“Ms. Blaire,” he called in a stern voice, jarring me out of my thoughts.

I stumbled into awareness awkwardly, nearly jumping out of my skin. “Kyleigh, Sir. But everyone calls me Leigh. Please call me Leigh.”

“Very well. Did you sleep well, Leigh?” he asked, raising a brow at the inquiry.

Fidgeting in my seat, I nodded, taking my spoon in my hands and delving into my soup. “Yes.”

“Good”

I don’t know if Lucas was that perceptive, but he had a way of making me feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it was his brash tone of voice. Or his no nonsense approach to everything. Or the way he looked at me. I could almost see an underlying emotion hidden behind his nonchalant manner. There was some sadness in his eyes when they met mine, but there were other conflicting emotions that could be read there. I almost sensed disgust and... even hatred.

Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I tried to rationalize my feelings, believing I was exaggerating the situation.

“Are you having a conversation with yourself?”

Embarrassed at having been caught, I lifted my eyes to meet his, feeling my cheeks grow warm. “Yes.”

“Well... what about?”

Before I lifted my spoon to my mouth, I paused, replacing it back into the bowl. “If I may ask, did you question Isobel about the trinkets before she left?”

His deep green eyes scanned my face before resting on my eyes and looking away. “Yes, she recalls placing something in that spot, but she was young and can’t remember everything about it.”

“Did you recognize any of those items?”

I watched as a slow smile played on his lips, but he didn’t appear to be in a smiling mood. He actually appeared bothered by the whole conversation. “You seem awfully interested in a few knick-knacks found in a box.”

“Well, I’d like to know the history of those things. They must have been valuable to Isobel for her to hide them away.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe they were just some pieces of rubbish that doesn’t hold any value to anyone,” he told her bluntly, saying nothing more on the subject as an uncomfortable silence drifted between us.

However, I couldn’t shake what I knew. The Green Lady was speaking to me in some way... showing me what I needed to know. She was trying to reveal a closely guarded secret. I needed to put an end to this question mark in my head and uncover the truth.

After lunch, Lucas informed me that he had his own errands to attend to, but informed me he would be back before dark. He entered his Rolls-Royce and quickly vanished down the road, appearing eager to be rid of me.

Throwing on my winter coat, I exited the castle from the front door, wanting to breathe in some fresh air. With the sky overcast, the day seemed dreary, and the usual gentle sea breeze became harsher, whipping my hair around my face.

Since Isobel was out, I decided to spend the rest of my day exploring a small amount of the three hundred acre property. Although venturing outside was frightening with all the stories of disappearing women in the area, I thought I should be safe if I remained on the castle grounds, keeping its stone walls within my sights.

Walking leisurely, I decided to start my little adventure in the side garden. Being winter, the garden was barren, filled with little more than dirt and weeds. However, I noticed a gate in the retaining wall which separated the castle grounds from the rocky ocean cliffs. I ran to it excitedly, seeing a strip of land that I could walk upon. Reaching for the gate, I pulled it open, hearing its shrill screams of protest in my ears like a siren. Walking through the threshold, I saw that the land on this side of the wall was wide enough for one or two people to stroll upon, side by side. It was filled with weeds and disappeared into the rocky shoreline for which this area seemed known for.

Stepping onto this small plot of land, I walked slowly, taking in the breathtaking views of the North Sea. The air was crisp. I inhaled slowly, never smelling air so fresh in my life. Feeling relaxed, I watched as the choppy waves swept across the sharp rocks that formed the short cliff-face the castle stood upon, spritzing the air with microscopic droplets.

Taking another step, my foot caught on an object on the ground and I nearly fell on my face.

Kneeling on the ground, I pulled back the weeds, revealing a small metal plaque sticking out of the ground. “In memory of Helen Gunn, The Beauty of Braemore, who suffered her death on this rocky shore and whose bravery will never be forgotten,” I read, feeling a chill sweep up my spine like a bolt of electricity.

Panic washed over me like ice water, and my heart began to pound with newfound intensity. I suddenly felt as if my chest were constricting. My nostrils flared as my breathing increased to accommodate the feeling of suffocating. My throat had gone so dry that I thought I was going to choke.

In this anxious state, my mind began to race. What if the stories surrounding this land appeared to be true? Someone had died in the vicinity of the castle. Someone who may have fell to their death from the tower overlooking this plot of land.

Suddenly, a crow flew above my head, landing on the stone wall that separated the castle from the shore. As its bottomless eyes met mine, it began to squawk, sounding like the horrific screams of a woman.

Covering my ears, I shivered. These cries sounded like a woman being murdered, inspiring fear within the pit of my soul. I couldn’t hear anymore. Wanting to put as much distance between me and the bird, I ran back to the house and shut myself in.

* * *

With the moonlight pouring in the windows of the turret, I stood before the spiral staircase, feeling the need to go upstairs and explore. I lifted my foot onto the first step and paused. Standing in the dark, I gazed up the stairs, wondering what I would find. A part of me wondered if I really wanted to solve the mystery of the Green Lady. Perhaps it was never meant to be solved.

Without warning, I watched as the torches sparked and ignited, one by one, as if by magic. Something was beckoning me upstairs, and although I was hesitant, I could not resist the call.

Taking my time, I ascended the stairs, running my fingertips along the wall for balance.

When I reached the fourth floor, I saw the door to the first bedchamber was open, and a dim light was pouring into the hall from within. Curious, I entered the chamber realizing candles had been lit from within and were positioned throughout the chamber, illuminating the room in an orange glow.

Taking everything in, I realized the room was a study. To my right, there was a large bookcase that covered the whole wall, filled with dusty volumes. In the center of the study, there was a large mahogany desk with spiral hand-carved legs and a matching tufted chair. Aside from those items, the room was quite bare and appeared unused.

As I was about to exit, my eyes caught a tarp. Inspecting it, I assumed the tarp was covering something wide and flat, but I couldn’t guess what it could be. It was too thin to be a piece of furniture.

Without explanation, I was suddenly fearful. What if I saw something I didn’t wish to see?

My breath caught in my throat. I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans in an effort to keep them dry. My pulse increased to the point of tachycardia. I gulped, trying to talk some courage into my spirit. I was there to explore, and I couldn’t abandon my task because of some irrational fear.

Extending my hand, I reached for it, but my time was cut short as the picture faded to black.

I awoke with a start, realizing I had fallen asleep while sitting on the couch downstairs. Exhausted, I glanced at the clock to see it was well past two. I called out to anyone who may have returned while I was asleep, but the castle was still.

Holding my head in my hands, I realized I couldn’t resist anymore. If the other things I had dreamed had been based in truth, than I owed it to follow up on this dream. Something was going on between the stone walls of the castle, and I needed to uncover whatever it was.

When I reached the spiral staircase, I looked for a flashlight in an accent table. I opened drawers, scattering their contents, until I came across a small pen light. It was enough to light my way. Clicking the light on, I ascended the stairs. Once at the top, the sight of the dark hall was enough to give me chills. I didn’t know what would jump out at me from the shadows, but I tried to move my pen light in all directions so I could spot everything.

When I walked towards the threshold of the first room, I saw that the doorway was ajar. I pushed the door fully open, hearing its wails breaking the eerie silence which surrounded me. My limbs began to shake as I stepped into the room. The constant drum of my beating heart filled my ears, causing me to feel increasingly tense.

With nothing but the moonlight pouring in through the dusty windows, the room was dark. There was nothing special about the space. Its walls were bare and dusty, appearing to have been abandoned for quite some time. Its contents were covered by tarps, appearing like ghosts covered with stark white sheets.

Nearing the center of the room, I removed a tarp from a piece of furniture and gasped. It was the same mahogany desk from my dream. I ran my fingers against the smooth wood in shock. It had all been real. Finding the desk was confirmation.

I glanced to my right, seeing a large tarp covering the wall. Stepping towards it, I pulled at the covering with all my strength, uncovering a large bookcase. It matched my vision perfectly. I pulled out one of the volumes, blowing the dust off of the cover. These books were so old their pages had yellowed and the ink had faded. Placing the book back on the shelf, I walked across the room, ready to uncover the last tarp.

Kneeling, I saw that the tarp covered a long, flat object. The span of it was nearly five feet, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what it was. I ran my hand along the edge of the tarp and hesitated. I felt ready to uncover the mystery, but I feared what I would find. Taking a deep breath, I pulled at the cloth.

My eyes made contact with another pair of eyes. It took me a moment to realize I was looking at a painting. It wasn’t large. It measured about two feet by a foot and a half. The woman in the portrait was young. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. She was depicted wearing a peach colored corseted gown with lace trim. Her blond hair was done up in a slick updo. Her features were fine and delicate. Her mouth was heart-shaped. Her smile was slight. She was quite pretty, but her looks did not captivate me as much as her eyes did.

They were almond-shaped with the most stunning electric blue irises I had ever seen. They appeared to stare right through me, sending chills up my spine. Something was not right about the painting. It depicted this woman who by all appearances was content, but her eyes spoke to me. They said another story. I saw sadness and despair in them.

Realizing there were more paintings under the tarp, I attempted to throw it off, but it snagged on the last one. I had uncovered three more paintings. All of them were young women, appearing barely over the age of eighteen. All of them wore expensive dresses from the same era. All of them had the same look of despair which spoke to me, chilling my heart.

Suddenly, I realized I knew these women. I had seen these portraits somewhere before. Their faces spoke to me in the deepest places of my subconscious, beckoning me to remember a detail that was lost to me.

Glancing at the tarp, I remembered that one piece had yet to be uncovered.

Moving towards it, I shined my light on the tarp as I pulled it off the final painting.

I jumped back as my heart caught in my throat.

Shivers overtook my spine, and I broke out in gooseflesh.

My mind was reeling, and I could not form a complete thought.

The last portrait was of... me.

I tried to register what my eyes were staring at. It was a young woman with my exact face. She had my blue eyes and my delicate nose. She shared my full lips and pointed chin. Even her skin tone matched. Like me, she had black hair. It was pinned in a bun with soft ringlets framing her round face.

She wore a green satin gown which was trimmed with lace around the collar. At her collar, she wore a plain gold locket which I recognized as the one I found in the trunk.

Then I remembered.

I remembered everything.

I saw flashes of my life. I saw myself hiding the trinket box after putting the pieces together. I saw a shadow in the upstairs window and knew I had been seen. I remembered sneaking into this very room to steal the key which would confirm my suspicions. I recalled walking up the spiral staircase, trying to access the next chamber. I remember opening the door and seeing... the girl who owned the charm bracelet.... I knew what I had done. I remembered the window.

Covering my mouth, I began to sob uncontrollably as images of another life flashed before my eyes like a movie.

I had been here before. I lived here. I was the woman in the painting.

“You remember,” a voice spoke to me, jarring me from my thoughts abruptly.

I turned my attention to the doorway, seeing Lucas Keith stepping into the room. His proximity sent chills up my spine. His eyes appeared angry. His jaw was set. His muscles were taut like a lion ready to pounce on its prey.

Feeling hot tears stream down my face, I did nothing to wipe them away. Tremors ran down my body as if I were having a seizure. In a state of extreme shock, I felt myself begin to black out. My mind drifted back and forth between two lives so quickly that I couldn’t grasp the meaning of such visions. My emotions were so overwhelming that I couldn’t bring myself to face the truth. “No,” I gasped, shaking my head.

“You escaped me once, Helen,” he said, taking another determined step towards me. “But you won’t again.”

“Please, don’t kill me,” I begged, my voice barely audible.

I didn’t even have the strength to run. Facing my own mortality, I felt the air escape my lungs, and my consciousness began to give way. Unable to control my movements, I felt myself falling backwards, and the picture went black.

When I awoke, my head was pounding. I moaned unable to lift my head. When I was able to open my eyes, I saw I was in a stone chamber. It took me a minute to realize I was laying on a metal exam table.

I screamed, fully coming to.

“Don’t scream,” I heard Isobel whisper from across the room.

I looked and saw my friend shackled to the wall. She appeared hurt. There were bruises on her face, and her breathing was ragged.

“Untie me before he comes again,” she begged, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Battling great pain, I managed to sit up. Running a hand over my torso, I saw that I wore a green gown. It was made of satin and had lace trim. Around my neck was a gold locket. My hair was done up in an old fashion style. Then, as if my brain was too slow to comprehend, I realized I was made up to resemble Helen Keith.

Stumbling off the table, I ran to Isobel’s side. Seeing that she had been shackled with metal chains, I tried to break open the lock with my hands, but the cuff did not budge.

“The key is over there,” she told me, pointing to a table that had medical tools used for cutting flesh. Atop this same table was the trinket box I had hidden. Grabbing my attention, Isobel reached out to me. I watched as her dry lips tried to form words before her voice escaped her throat. “He is crazy! He is going to kill us. He says you are, his wife, Helen, but he has never been married.”

I nodded, glancing back at the trinket box. “Your uncle is not your uncle,” I managed to tell her. “I should have known it when I looked into his eyes for the first time. I should have seen it when I came back to this place.”

“What are you saying?”

“He is D. James Keith... or at least he was in a different lifetime,” I told her, hoping that she could understand. “He married five times. He killed four of them when they found out his secret, but I escaped. I was the fifth wife.”

Her eyes narrowed as she took in my pained expression. “How?”

“I threw myself out this very window,” I said motioning towards the only window in the room. “I didn’t allow him to take my life. I was the only one that got away.”

Breaking away from her grasp, I hopped up and ran towards the table, snatching up the key.

Before I could reach Isobel, Lucas stepped into the room, taking slow determined steps. “Helen Gunn was the most beautiful maiden in the land. It took one glance for me to know I had to possess her; however, she was in love with another, Alexander, and I was old enough to be her father. No one had ever denied me, but she did. So, I took her and locked her in this tower until she agreed to become my wife.”

“But even that could not stop your sadistic streak,” I told him, holding the key so tightly in my hand I was marking my skin.

“You came into this very room and found the girl.”

“You shackled her to the wall and killed her,” I said, seething. “She wore a charm bracelet.... I connected the dots between all the missing girls and your trinkets.”

He inched closer. His eyes were on fire. “You wanted to expose me. You stole my trophies,” he said, motioning towards the trinket box. “I couldn’t let you live after that.”

“But you came back.”

“So did you,” he said, grinding his teeth together as his eyes bore into mine. “I had all these memories growing up... and I couldn’t understand why until Isobel sent me a picture of her and her new roommate at school. Then I knew I had to finish my work. All the girls I had killed before or after did nothing to satisfy me. My soul couldn’t rest after you jumped. I needed to possess you. I needed to be the one to snatch your life from you, but you got away.”

Taking a step back, I realized I was leaning against the very window I had thrown myself from all those years ago. The realization shot a chill up my spine. “Let Isobel go.”

“No,” he said with a grin. “She is to be my next victim, and you will watch. Or maybe she can watch you.”

Without warning, he charged at me.

My back hit the metal latch on the window, throwing them open. With my head hanging out, I could see the jagged rocks below as the waves washed over them violently. I recalled landing on those rocks and feeling my body being knocked about by the current before I died.

This time I was going to fight.

As the weight of his body came over me, I felt his hands grip my throat. Struggling to free myself, I tried to claw at him. Realizing I had the key to Isobel’s freedom, I threw it in her general direction, feeling myself grow weaker from the lack of oxygen to my brain. With my lungs about to burst, I kicked, landing a blow to his shin with my boot.

He screamed, loosening his grip long enough for me to take a breath.

Clawing at his torso in an attempt to push him off of me, his grip tightened, and I had no doubt he would succeed in killing me this time.

“Don’t worry. I am not going to kill you. I am going to dissect you alive,” he said with an evil smile.

Suddenly, I heard Isobel scream.

Releasing me from his grasp, Lucas doubled backward, leaning his body on the window frame. There was a dissection knife lodged in his back which he tried to grab hold of the blade.

As Isobel grabbed another cutting tool from the table, I pushed her away. Knowing if I wanted to be free of the spirit of D. James Keith, I had to put an end to him by myself.

With all of my might, I pushed him out of the open window, watching him flip over the sill.

To my surprise, he didn’t fall. He managed to hold onto the ledge with his body dangling in open air. However he knew he couldn’t hold on for long, he begged for his life, reaching out for Isobel with his free hand.

Conflicted, Isobel covered her ears, looking to me for guidance.

Shaking my head at her, I knew he didn’t deserve our mercy. He was going to die like all of his victims before him.

I watched as his fingers began to slide. It didn’t take long for him to lose his grip. He fought to keep control, but in the end he couldn’t hang on and fell fifty feet, landing on the sharp rocks below before the current swept his body away.

Isobel hugged me, and I assured her that everything would be alright, patting her back. Yet, I secretly wondered... if such an evil could stay dead. Or if we were doomed to play this game in the next lifetime.

THE END

* * * * *

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