Promises of Glory

“What is the meaning of life? It’s a mystery. Therefore, I can assume that the meaning of life is mystery itself.”

-Gilgam Autumn, author

Rhode paced in front of the vanity. The white paint was cracking, an old thing that was no longer protected from the ages. The whole thing looked years older, like someone took a bat to it. It seemed that whatever was keeping it fresh and new was gone, blown away by invisible winds.

She put her hands together, praying to whatever magic was giving her clues would put another hint in her lap.

Isabelle said nothing from behind her. The girl was standing by the door, making no sounds as Rhode was going off the deep end.

Rhode turned her body, facing the maid. “What are you looking at?” Rhode hissed at the maid. She flinched. “Why in the name of gods are you standing around like a slack jawed doll? Do you not have somewhere else to be to needlessly consume oxygen?”

A tear escaped the girl’s eye. Rhode looked confused for a moment, thinking that what she said wasn’t that harsh. She resigned herself that it was when the maid left the room crying.

Rhode stilled, her hands gripping the fraying edges of the vanity. “You don’t need to be cruel to someone who’s only been nice to you.” The girl took a look at herself, that inward perspection. Rhode huffed, drawing a hand down the side of her face, “I suck.”

When she pulled away from the vanity, she felt something calling to her. Like a voice with its careful instructions, like the wind with its fluttering feeling. Rhode gripped her chest, feeling a slight pang. She’d felt this, heard this, before. She looked at the vanity. She touched the middle drawer’s handle delicately. Like it might break.

A glance in the mirror had Rhode stall. The boy. He was reflected in the mirror. She turned around with a whoosh, only to find the floor where he stood replaced with a key and a note.

Rhode approaches it carefully, light steps that still creaked on the old floor. Her fingers touched the key, the cold metal told her it was real. Rhode sucked in a breath. Pulling up the note, she reads it aloud, “Do not get eaten.”

The girl nodded to herself, squeezing the key in her hands. The only locked door she has come across was the basement door. She prays once more, for the strength to fly into action. The ball, Rhode though, opening her eyes. The ball was when she would make her escape.