10-04-2019, 11:17 AM
Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat in a chair in the dining hall of Castle Finzione. She smoked as she looked up at the three paintings on the wall that the chair had been placed a decent viewing distance from. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata was playing from somewhere, but she hadn't asked for any music. It fit, though, so she said nothing.
She wore black. It was also fitting. Helena looked at the painting on her left, dabbing tears silently as she did.
Troy Equals was looking down at her, a smile on his face. He was dressed in a nice suit, seated amongst rose bushes. Julie Andrews Roses, which reminded Helena of the first woman she ever loved, and the artist who'd painted the portrait. She sighed, a sigh that carried the knowledge that she would never see him again, but that he was in good hands. He would get over her in time.
She looked at the center painting: Propappou, his arms open. Waiting for her to run to him so he could hoist her up and kiss her and tell her he loved her and how proud he was of her. It was the picture from which the statues of him around San Finzione had been made, as well. The Medinas were a large family in Greece, and he'd lived a very long life, so she knew he had many friends and relatives with him. She hoped he wouldn't be too busy for his Petalouda Mikro when she arrived.
A curtain fluttered somewhere as she looked over to Vincenzo, in his royal uniform. Would she find him waiting for her? Would she take him with her to visit Propappou so that her husband and father could meet at last? Or would he be happy with Contessa Sofia, his first wife, and have no need for her? Did he truly reign in his people's hearts in the next world as well? She would know soon.
She sensed a presence behind her. She didn't bother to look, because she knew she would see nothing. She did not run, because she knew there was nowhere to run from it. Calling to anyone would just endanger them as well. She took another drag of her cigarette. It would let her finish it. It was only fitting.
She smiled as the thought came to her that maybe she was worrying about nothing. Perhaps Propappou and Vincenzo were waiting right there on the other side for her, with Wade trussed up and stuffed into a burlap sack behind them. And she could come and visit Troy and Julie and Susan and all their children in spirit like everyone said. Would Susan want Troy's children as well? Why not? She had, once. She finished her cigarette and bowed her head, lowering her veil.
There was a sound of something slicing through the air. For a moment, it seemed nothing happened. Then, Contessa Helena de San Finzione's head rolled off of her body to land at her feet, still staring up at the paintings, the light fading from her eyes, Vincenzo's pendant hitting the floor; as she saw the Nothing that had removed her head start stalking toward Maria's room. Only then did she try to scream, but there was nothing.
It wasn't like the dreams she'd been having of this moment, because she didn't wake up. It started again immediately after. The music, the paintings, the invisible blade severing her head with one blow, the pendant; it was a repeating pattern playing in her head as her body lay unconscious on the Greens' lawn in the real world.
* * *
Hey, Susan here. I'd been fiddling with stuff around the fireplace, thinking that maybe Helen used the same trick as the passage from the study to her bedroom in the castle. Of course, she wouldn't. Nothing there.
On one of the walls was a large portrait of Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione; Helen's late husband. A brass nameplate at the bottom identified him and listed the years of his reign for those unfamiliar with the history of San Finzione. Engraved beneath was an Italian phrase that, although I didn't know much of the language, I had learned enough from my time in San Finzione to recognize it as a saying about him: "Forever does he reign in our hearts."
I checked the painting and found it bolted to the wall. On a hunch, I looked to where Vincenzo's eyes were pointing in the picture, but he'd simply been looking straight ahead, and the opposite wall told me nothing.
"Is there a Propappou in the suite? I asked Rita, referring to the statues of Troy's great-grandfather in front of all emergency services buildings in San Finzione. Children were taught to "Run to Propappou if You are in Danger" in their colleges, so maybe that was something.
"Si," Rita answered. "By the fire exits outside." Ok, for once, Propappou wasn't Helen's answer.
I looked over at the monitor, Rita, Velasquez, and Mander still trying to remove paintings, lift knick-knacks, pull books off of shelves, etc. The Scooby-Doo approach was getting us nowhere. I sat down on the bed. I needed a moment. I needed...
* * *
She wore black. It was also fitting. Helena looked at the painting on her left, dabbing tears silently as she did.
Troy Equals was looking down at her, a smile on his face. He was dressed in a nice suit, seated amongst rose bushes. Julie Andrews Roses, which reminded Helena of the first woman she ever loved, and the artist who'd painted the portrait. She sighed, a sigh that carried the knowledge that she would never see him again, but that he was in good hands. He would get over her in time.
She looked at the center painting: Propappou, his arms open. Waiting for her to run to him so he could hoist her up and kiss her and tell her he loved her and how proud he was of her. It was the picture from which the statues of him around San Finzione had been made, as well. The Medinas were a large family in Greece, and he'd lived a very long life, so she knew he had many friends and relatives with him. She hoped he wouldn't be too busy for his Petalouda Mikro when she arrived.
A curtain fluttered somewhere as she looked over to Vincenzo, in his royal uniform. Would she find him waiting for her? Would she take him with her to visit Propappou so that her husband and father could meet at last? Or would he be happy with Contessa Sofia, his first wife, and have no need for her? Did he truly reign in his people's hearts in the next world as well? She would know soon.
She sensed a presence behind her. She didn't bother to look, because she knew she would see nothing. She did not run, because she knew there was nowhere to run from it. Calling to anyone would just endanger them as well. She took another drag of her cigarette. It would let her finish it. It was only fitting.
She smiled as the thought came to her that maybe she was worrying about nothing. Perhaps Propappou and Vincenzo were waiting right there on the other side for her, with Wade trussed up and stuffed into a burlap sack behind them. And she could come and visit Troy and Julie and Susan and all their children in spirit like everyone said. Would Susan want Troy's children as well? Why not? She had, once. She finished her cigarette and bowed her head, lowering her veil.
There was a sound of something slicing through the air. For a moment, it seemed nothing happened. Then, Contessa Helena de San Finzione's head rolled off of her body to land at her feet, still staring up at the paintings, the light fading from her eyes, Vincenzo's pendant hitting the floor; as she saw the Nothing that had removed her head start stalking toward Maria's room. Only then did she try to scream, but there was nothing.
It wasn't like the dreams she'd been having of this moment, because she didn't wake up. It started again immediately after. The music, the paintings, the invisible blade severing her head with one blow, the pendant; it was a repeating pattern playing in her head as her body lay unconscious on the Greens' lawn in the real world.
* * *
Hey, Susan here. I'd been fiddling with stuff around the fireplace, thinking that maybe Helen used the same trick as the passage from the study to her bedroom in the castle. Of course, she wouldn't. Nothing there.
On one of the walls was a large portrait of Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione; Helen's late husband. A brass nameplate at the bottom identified him and listed the years of his reign for those unfamiliar with the history of San Finzione. Engraved beneath was an Italian phrase that, although I didn't know much of the language, I had learned enough from my time in San Finzione to recognize it as a saying about him: "Forever does he reign in our hearts."
I checked the painting and found it bolted to the wall. On a hunch, I looked to where Vincenzo's eyes were pointing in the picture, but he'd simply been looking straight ahead, and the opposite wall told me nothing.
"Is there a Propappou in the suite? I asked Rita, referring to the statues of Troy's great-grandfather in front of all emergency services buildings in San Finzione. Children were taught to "Run to Propappou if You are in Danger" in their colleges, so maybe that was something.
"Si," Rita answered. "By the fire exits outside." Ok, for once, Propappou wasn't Helen's answer.
I looked over at the monitor, Rita, Velasquez, and Mander still trying to remove paintings, lift knick-knacks, pull books off of shelves, etc. The Scooby-Doo approach was getting us nowhere. I sat down on the bed. I needed a moment. I needed...
* * *
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