To Entrance and Captivate

Let's get some things straight: he came after me, he kidnapped me, and he ruined my life. Singlehandedly.
It didn't matter that every time he entered the room my heart pounded painfully, and whenever he flashed one of those know-it-all, wanting smiles I secretly wished to give one back. That didn't matter at all.
Now the mobs were coming after us. I wanted to hate him for causing this, for dragging me into a world where mortals were actually called mortals, for taking hold of my mind and refusing to let it go.
But I didn't, and I really didn't have a good idea as to why. Maybe because I was curious, and rebellious, and hated absolutely everything my loony grandmother forced upon me. Or maybe because hell was a lonely place, and misery loved company.

9Likes
9Comments
954Views
AA

1. Excerpt

Hi! Thanks for reading. This is an excerpt, and I was wondering if I should continue with this, wherever it may lead? I have an idea I would pursue, but is it worth the chase?

 

 

 

I hear the soft piano music, drifting down the empty halls and gracefully falling to my ears. It calls me, beckoning, forcing one step in front of the other, like a death march.

            When I reach the source of the music, when the sweet notes seem loudest, I enter the room and find no one playing. The keys have ceased to move, and the air seems heavy and dank without the lightness of the musical notes to lift it. I walk to the piano—one finger glides across its shiny black wood, drifting to a key, tapping down and waiting for my ears to pluck a note from the air.

            The piano stays quiet.

            I am puzzled. I tap the key again, and when it refuses to play, I tap another, and another, and another. Soon I come to realize my fingers hold no magic, that the piano refuses to play for me. I am not a magician, nor a musician, so I back away rather sadly. I wanted to hear the music again; I wanted to be lifted to another world like I was then. Nothing had compelled me like that music had.

            “You want more?” a voice said, dark and slow, rolling and smothering like soft velvet. I do not turn around to face the man, for it most certainly had to be one.

            “It was beautiful,” I say in reply. “Did you make it?”

            “I did.”

            “With that piano?”

            “Yes.”

            I am silent, wondering why the piano was mute for me. It wasn’t possible for the man to be able to play a crippled instrument, especially not a mute one. With nothing to say, I keep my mouth tightly shut.

            Footsteps pad behind me, surprisingly sharp in the uncomfortable silence. I expected the man to come to my side, yet he does not. He stays just a step behind me, waiting for me to make the first move.

            I can feel him waiting.

            “Would you like me to play more?” It was his voice, surely, but it held a different note to it, one that called to me like the music had.

            Before I knew what I was doing, I was turned around, and my eyes stayed fixed at the tiled floor. I could see my bare feet, clean, off white compared to the blanched tiles, as well as his, nicely encased in black leather shoes. My eyes traveled upward, curious, noting the black slacks covering long muscular legs, the dark cape contrasting between a bone white button down and a bloody tie. Up, further, until I see his neck, grey, then pale lips, a strong nose, and finally the eyes. Stormy and beautiful, so much so that it pained me to look away. I didn’t stay away for long, though, just enough to see his perfect black hair and thick eyebrows.

            His eyes raked up and down my figure. “You do not shake,” he said with amusement. “Not like the others, how they trembled.”

            “I find no need to,” I replied. “Why? Is it cold? Must I shiver?”

            “No, not at all. I simply found it peculiar, different.”

            We continued to stare at each other in silence. What did he see when he looked at me? My slender figure underneath a white nightgown I had no memory of slipping into, or perhaps my black hair, nicely combed and parted? I had no recollection of doing that, either. I never had it down, and found it strange that it was.

            “Do you remember where you are?” he said at last.

            I closed my eyes to think. “No,” I answered, surprised more that I was not worried than by this entire predicament. “Mind you answer?”

            “My home,” he replied, eyes narrowing for a moment, giving his soft handsome features a cruel thinness.

            “You live by yourself?”

            “Yes.”

            “It is a big house; at least, from what I’ve seen, it appears to be.”

            “I assure you it is. Feel free to explore.” His bottom lip disappeared, hidden by snowy teeth as he bit it. Two of them seemed awfully sharp. His eyes were transfixed, whether on my neck or the collar of my dress I couldn’t tell, yet it made me uncomfortable.

            “Those are not my eyes,” I said forcefully.

            His eyes jumped back up to mine, and to my mind they seemed a bit darker and clouded. “I apologize. You are very beautiful.”

            That was a lie, yet I let it pass.

            The man took a step back, then another. “I apologize, for I fear I must leave. Feel free to wander the grounds yet do not leave them. Understand?”

            “I do.” He turned away, cape swishing behind him. His steps were quick now, as though he was in a hurry. “Wait,” I called. He froze mid stride. “What is your name?”

            “I go by many,” he laughed. “But people, close people, call me Drake. Strangers may call me Count.”

            “Am I a stranger?”

            At this Drake turned, eyes lit with amusement, a smile stretching his face, only adding to his attractive nature. Even those two sharp teeth did nothing to harm him.

            “Perhaps,” he said. “What do they call you?”

            “Perhaps you will find out one day.”

            Drake smirked. I could tell he liked a good game. “Perhaps I shall be lucky enough.”

            With that he walked out, leaving me alone in the piano room, no longer craving the music of its keys but of his voice.

 

Thanks for taking the time to read/critique!

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...