It was past midnight on my first night at court. The dancing had ended and some of the younger girls had gone off to bed. The older girls were standing in groups chatting quietly. A few were speaking with a couple young men in a corner of the room. I was exhausted after being on the saddle all day and then dancing all night. I decided that I would go to my chamber and prepare for bed so that I wouldn't be tired on my first full day at court. I trudged up the grand set of stairs in the direction of my chamber. I turned into a dark corridor that I thought would lead me to my chamber. ( Sorry I have to finish this later. But this is the new beginning. There's a lot I still need to fix so this won't be finished for a while...)
I stumbled into a dark room. It was chilly. I walked slowly, my arms outstretched, into the dark, gloomy room. It was as if the room had come straight out of a ghost story meant to frighten young children. I took another step and my foot slipped with a whoosh out from under me.
An unearthly clang resonated around me as I fell onto something hard, and I cried out in pain. My cry seemed to echo in a sinister, unnatural way around me. The room was expansive and it seemed to engulf me in it's blackness. Judging by the echo, the room was also quite empty. I picked myself up off of the dusty floor, coughing. After composing myself I extended my arm and let my hand wander through the dark. As I reached to my left I felt something hard, yet not quite smooth. I moved my hand over the top of the object, and began to recognize the shape. It was a harpsichord, the instrument that I had spent hours playing at court. This harpsichord was unkempt, dirty, and broken, nothing like the grand one that I had practiced on. There was a hazy light that showed uncannily on the lid. The keys lay crooked, some of them lying on top of the others like bad teeth in need of straightening. Indeed, the white keys had grown yellow from aging. I slid my hand blindly across the top of the jagged keys.
As I reached what seemed to be the middle of the harpsichord I felt something small and stiff. Paper. The paper was very small, and I could see faint tears at the edges. It must have been very old, and it seemed so fragile. Two straight creases lined the paper, as if it had been folded in half twice. I stretched out my hand and slowly, ever so slowly, touched the paper with my pointer finger. I lay each of my fingers on the paper one by one until all five of my fingertips lay lightly on top of it. Gently, I removed it from it's resting place and brought it over to the hazy light. It was what looked like a letter, written in an elaborate hand. The ink was disappearing into the crumpled, yellowing paper, and had faded entirely at the creases. Squinting my eyes, I stared hard at the letter and tried to make out the words, but the light was far too dim.
Then, a thought came to me, Where is the light coming from? I cannot see a window, but then again, I cannot see much at all. The scene was quite eerie, so eerie that I felt almost lightheaded.
Out of nowhere, I heard a note play. The note echoed ever so quietly. The echo had the most sinister sound to it. I recognized the sound. It was a note from the harpsichord.
Did I make that sound? I wondered. Did I even hear a sound? Or was that my imagination?
Again. A note played, a little louder this time. It was a different note. I thought, Was that me? I cannot tell. How disorientating!
Then, a terrifying thought struck me, what if it was not me? More notes played, faster, and faster. The same notes. Over and over and over again. I began to feel dizzy. I felt as if the room was spinning around me, growing faster. The objects in the room started to blend together into one swirling mass. I was shivering, and I realized I could not stop. My thoughts swirled, muddled and confused inside my head.
Then, quite suddenly, I felt something rough around my neck. It was rope. The rope tightened, constricting my airway. I gasped, but no air could enter my compressed lungs. My hands flew up to my neck and I tugged at the rope frantically, but it was no use. I twisted and squirmed but my killer was strong. I grew weaker as each second ticked by, but I held the letter in a tight grip.
I am going mad. I thought to myself. Surely I must be going mad. What is happening? So swiftly. I cried out again, a blood-curdling, ear-splitting scream. My balance gave way, and I fainted and fell forcefully on the floor. And then a blank.
Well, here goes.
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