“It may be just what I need. I didn’t like being in London. There were too many people. I felt so…overwhelmed by it all. Besides, it’s nice to see where mother grew up. I wonder why she never brought me here before.”
Charlie looked out of the window pensively.
“Your mother didn’t have the best relationship with this house. There were certain things, well, once she left this place she was never going to come back.”
“But why? What things?” Marion asked. Charlie smiled warmly.
“I see you ask as many questions as she did,” he said. When the words had left his mouth his smile faded and a distant look came upon him. Marion wondered what it all meant so she waited patiently for him to reveal the secrets that he was holding in his heart. Charlie set the mug down onto the nearby table and pulled himself off. Marion was surprised to see him rise and she moved to help him, but he noticed and immediately shook his head. She sat back down. Charlie grabbed his cane, steadied himself on it, and then picked up his mug. He shuffled towards the window.
“It’s a long story really, probably one that’s best left forgotten. She was around your age when it all started. She asked too many questions. It was only your father that was able to pull her away- damn!”
He cursed as he spilled some of the contents of his mug onto his clothes and the floor. Marion got up to help but once again he indicated that he didn’t need her aid. He reached towards the desk, stretching and straining slightly more than he should have until the cane buckled under the stress. Marion watched in horror as everything slowed down. Charlie’s face twisted into an expression of fear, confusion, and shock as he lost his balance and everything collapsed underneath him. Gravity hauled him to the ground. His cane clattered against the desk until it rested on the floor while he landed with a thud. His breath was driven from his lungs and he lolled on the floor like a helpless animal. The mug had smashed beside him and the pieces lay in shards as a dark stain spread across the carpet. Marion leaped to her feet and got down on her knees, unsure whether to mop up the mess or help her uncle.
“Go…go away,” Charlie said, red-faced. His words were halting as he struggled to speak. Marion remained momentarily, and went to pick up his cane. As she did so her arm brushed against his wounded leg and she instantly withdrew it, then regretted her actions as she saw his pained look. His palm slammed against her wrist as he slapped her arm away.
“Get away,” he repeated in a bitter tone and then called out Winston’s name, bellowed it out so that it rang through the hallways. Soon enough footsteps rattled down the hall and Winston barged into the room. He took one look at Marion and then fell to his knees to help his master, but that look sent a chill down Marion’s spine for she saw the whites of Winston’s eyes and she swore that something unholy resided within them.
“I-I just…” she began, but it was clear that neither man was listening to her. She watched Winston drape Charlie’s arms around his shoulders and made a swift exit, trying to forget what she had just seen. It can’t have been easy for Uncle Charlie to appear so vulnerable in front of her, especially as it was the first time they were meeting. She had the impression that it was difficult for him to be around people and she hoped that that meeting wasn’t going to adversely affect their relationship. She looked around and her gaze drifted towards the stairs. They beckoned towards her, and with nothing else to do she decided that she would find her room and try to get some sleep.
While she took her steady steps upstairs and followed the wide hall around to her room, she thought about what her uncle had said about her mother and wondered whether she would ever find out the truth. After all, who knew if her uncle would even speak to her again? It seemed like a subject that wasn’t spoken about often, but that made it all the more intriguing. As she walked along, it was strange for her to think that at one time her mother walked down the same hallways. It was another life, one that Marion hadn’t been a part of. Now that she thought about it, she realized that her mother had barely talked about her life before she met Marion’s father, or was it just that Marion had never bothered to ask?
She came across the golden bull and went into the adjacent door. The room was huge, far bigger than her old room. Her case looked so forlorn and small as it lay on the soft, fluffy bed. Marion gazed up at the ceiling, there was a big fresco over the ceiling but she was too tired to bother to make out the details of it. She opened the case and pulled out a nightgown before she pushed it on the floor. It landed with a loud thud. Marion got changed, turned off the lantern so that she was consumed in darkness, and then climbed into the bed, pulling the sheets tightly around her. The pillow had a musty smell but it was clean, and her head sank into it as if it were a cloud.
As she closed her eyes the image of her parents’ faces drifted before her, just as they had done every night since the accident. A silent tear trickled along the curve of her cheek as the pain from her soul welled up inside her and she drifted off to sleep, a momentary respite from the anguish that swam around her mind.
***
“I wanted to apologize for last night…” As she mentioned the previous night, Charles blanched and Marion noticed a slight hesitation in his step.
“Don’t worry about it child,” he replied in a soft voice, “accidents do happen. It’s best to forget about it, I feel.”
“I would like to know about my mother though, and why she left.”
“I think perhaps if she had wanted you to know she would have mentioned it to you herself. I don’t…it was a long time ago and she, well, she was a troubled child. Your father was the best thing that ever happened to her. He took her away from this place.”
“But why? What was it that troubled her so much?”
“She never really talked about it openly. There were just a lot of vague hints…I’m sorry. It’s a difficult subject to talk about. It was all so long ago. I’ve lived a whole other life since then.”
“I understand. I just wanted to know her a little better I suppose, after all, now that she’s gone…well.”
And as Marion said those words, Charles Morton’s heart was filled with pity. Suddenly a memory of a bright girl with the same eyes as Marion filled his mind and he was transported back to his childhood when he frolicked with his sister in the garden. He remembered how they would run through the house and explore every nook and cranny. They would disappear for hours in such a manner and to remember these good times bought a smile to his face. A tear appeared in his eye as he remembered that the sister he grew up with was gone and there was no way to ever get her back. Yet in a way he had been given a second chance with her daughter, his niece. As he looked at her hopeless figure, he recognized that she was just trying to find a connection.
“She always kept a diary. I’m not sure where it ended up because she hid it somewhere in the house. I’m sorry I can’t help you more than that.”
Marion leapt up and hugged him, taking her uncle by surprise. She squeezed him tight and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She left him, stunned, and tried to figure out where her mother would have hidden the diary. She spent a long time parsing through her memory, trying to find any clue but at first it seemed to be hopeless and she threw her hands up in despair. Suddenly, a fragment of a memory flashed through her mind and she willed herself to remember it more fully. When it bloomed, she remembered the time when she and her mother had visited the library in the middle of London and she had been in awe, but her mother talked about a library she’d had a long time ago. Marion now realized that it was the library in this very house! With no other clues to go on she ventured into the vast, high-ceilinged room that was stacked from wall-to-wall with books. She raised her eyebrows and drew a long breath, wondering how she was going to find her mother’s diary amongst all these tomes. After taking a few moments to compose herself she looked up the index to see how the books were sorted and then tried to figure out where her mother would have put the diary. First, she tried some of her mother’s favorite authors,
but that didn’t result in any luck. Then she snapped her fingers, of course! It was so simple, her mother had always spoken of her ambition to be a writer. Marion ran around the library and found the diary hidden in plain sight. It was slotted into the place where it would have gone had it been an actual book, as the books were sorted alphabetically by the names of the authors. She ran back to her room and flung herself on the bed, frantically diving into the diary.
As Marion read her mother’s words a tear trickled down her face and she was ashamed at having been so afraid. The faded ink was hard to read but as her eyes moved across the pages she heard her mother speak and it brought more tears. She soon found that drops were splashing on the page and a dark stain spread out, blurring the ink. She sat back and wiped her eyes, brushing the tears away, before picking the book up again.
As she continued reading the narrative of the diary changed. From musing about normal things and ranting about her brother the context suddenly deepened. There was one entry where things changed.
‘I met them today. At least I think I did. The ones I have been searching for. I can’t tell anyone about it, no-one must know, but I must make a record in case I should ever forget. It was…it was something that I have never experienced before and I am not sure how to describe it, but I feel different somehow. I must rest now and reflect on the matters of the day so I can decide on my next course of action.’
Marion wondered who ‘they’ were. At first she thought it might have been something to do with her father but when she checked the dates of the diary she realized that this cannot have been the case since she knew they hadn’t met yet. Could it have been possible that her mother had another love before her father? She had never thought of that possibility, to her the two of them had always been together and would always be together. But then why couldn’t her mother tell anyone? Marion indulged herself for a moment and came up with fanciful theories about her mother being involved with a married man, or perhaps someone from outside her social class.
Breathing quickly, she turned the page to carry on the mystery. As she read about them she was shocked. She had no idea that her mother could write with so much passion.
‘I met them properly today. It was strange. Upon reflection I decided to cast away my fear and delve deep into the truth of the matter. I could feel my nerves throb through my body and when I felt their presence I was paralyzed, and yet I was as excited as I was nervous. Part of me wants to tell everyone about the wondrous discovery I have made yet who will believe me? Charlie would laugh it off as he does with everything I do and my parents…well, perhaps I do not want to tell everyone. I dare not think of what they’d do if they found out. So it’s left for me to tell you that I…I think that I know what love is. I have read about it and dreamed about it but until now I have never experienced it. It seems strange given who and what they are but I cannot quell the feelings that are springing up inside my heart. Oh, I know I am so foolish but I know what I felt. At first I was afraid and then they appeared as if in a dream, and I could hardly believe my eyes. My heart raced and even now when I think about it I am almost left breathless. Yet what am I to do…I have no recourse and no frame of reference, and in the clear light of day I am not even sure that what I experienced today actually happened. But then I turn around and I feel their presence, feel them watching me, surrounding me and…oh…’
Marion flipped the pages but there were no more words. That passage ended abruptly with an errant line of ink trailing from the last word, as if her mother had dropped the pen mid-sentence and not bothered to pick it up again. Marion read through the passage once more, trying to see if there were any other clues to the identity of these mysterious men but there were none. She turned the pages in excitement, eager to find out what happened between her mother and these men but she went through page after page and she became dismayed for they were all blank. She couldn’t understand what could have made her mother stop writing, and the only recourse she had was to go back through the diary and re-read the earlier passages for clues.
Suddenly a chill ran through the room and she felt the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. Her eyes widened in fright as gooseflesh broke out on her skin and an unsettling feeling twisted in her gut. She gulped, and two blue auras shimmered into focus before her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” one of the ghostly forms said, reaching out a hand to stroke her cheek. A small electric surge crackled against her skin. She gasped at the shock of the sensation and curled her fingers, hopelessly struggling against the unseen force that was pinning her wrists down. The hazy blue form floating before her.
“W-who are you? How are you doing this?”
“You know all this,” the other one said in a smooth voice. Marion stared at him again, knowing the truth but not wanting to admit it to herself.
“You are so much like your mother,” he said, reaching down and stretching out what must have been fingertips. Her skin crackled again.
“What are you?” she said breathlessly.
“We are the silent desire, the unspoken passion, we are the forgotten love, we are those which haunt this household.” Their heads moved down to the diary. “We are who your mother wrote about,” he added, and Marion thought she detected a hint of mournfulness in the spirit’s voice.
“W-what do I call you?”
The spirits introduced themselves as John and Richard. The specters shimmered and danced before her eyes. She was at their mercy and she was frightened, but she was also excited and intrigued.
She wanted to ask them about her mother, about what had happened to her and what Uncle Charlie meant when he said that she had to be rescued by Marion’s father, but then another electric surge passed through Marion’s body, this time it flashed across her chest and whole torso tingled with excitement and her gasps intensified and all her thoughts were dispelled. She went to ask a question but then another flash surged causing her mouth to form an ‘o’ and the words to drift out of her mouth in a guttural moan. John’s form moved gently over Marion’s body, his fingers were like glittering stardust and each brush sent a small supernova exploding under her skin. Richard maintained his position and out of the cracks of her eyes Marion could have sworn that he was smiling.
John spread his form all over her body. It was a cool sensation that blended with the heat from her skin. Her neck arched as pleasure weaved through her core and her muscles tensed. In the brief moments when her eyes were not clenched in pleasure she caught a glimpse of Richard descending, but she was unable to concentrate on anything for too long as it felt as though a hundred hands were over her, exploring and caressing every inch of her body. Unfamiliar sensations erupted in her mind and her brain struggled to process them. Marion’s chest heaved and her legs rubbed together as a burning started in between her thighs, it was frightening and exciting all at once and she didn’t want it to stop.
John sent himself further into her and her body began to writhe and shudder. Her arms reached out and her grip tightened around the sheets. Her lips searched for something tangible to kiss but all the found was a slightly sweet sensation in the air and a tangy touch, and it was strange because there was just enough of John for her to feel things.
Marion opened her eyes and looked at John and Richard’s body as they floated over her. They danced together in harmony and the air crackled with ethereal energy. Her nightgown glowed blue near her wet pussy and her nipples stood hard and erect through the thin material. She bit her lip and gazed into the white glowing eyes of them both, and smiled when they smiled. She reached out to touch them but was disappointed when she grasped air, and the ghostly forms swirled around and the connection was broken. She shot up as she was cast into darkness and looked around for them. The dramatic change in sensation left her feeling empty and frustrated, and she didn’t understand what had happened.
“John?” she called out, “Richard? Are you still there?” She looked around but couldn’t see anything so she collapsed on her pillow, po
uting. However, then she heard a rattling sound and her eyes narrowed. She crept up and rested on her elbows, surveying the shadows of the room. She heard another noise and her head shot to the other direction, where she glimpsed a blue glow. Her lips curled into a smile and she leaped off the bed in pursuit. With a spring in her step, she made her way across the room to her wardrobe and searched through the clothes, but to her dismay she found nothing but dark shadows.
Another sound.
Her head jerked round again. This time she giggled as she ran to the other side of the room but again when she searched she found nothing. When she rose she screwed up her face to try and figure out where they were hiding, but as she looked around two small blue balls drifted through the room and came to rest before her face. The small orbs were beautiful and exotic, like a gem. She went to touch them but just as her finger was about to brush the surface, the ball shot back and exploded on the bed into the fully-formed ghosts, who appeared to be sitting with their legs crossed and their arms folded, although it was difficult to tell. Marion lowered her head and moved back to the bed where she curled up at the head.
“What happened? Was it something I did?”
“There is much for you to learn, but we can teach you.”
“Now,” Richard said, and it was as though his voice was directly in her mind, “raise your hand slowly and gently, and when you feel a change in sensation resist the urge to carry on. She gulped and brought her hand up, slowly, inch by inch it moved higher until she felt him spread over her palm. Blood rushed through her veins and her muscles throbbed with the effort it took to keep her arm steady but she could feel him seep into her and it was like nothing she had ever experienced before, as if a sharp spear of light was running through her soft, vulnerable flesh but then all at once her hand jerked and Richard’s hand was a mass of wispy smoke.
Marion’s hand fell limply to the bed and she let out a heavy, frustrated sigh.
Game of Throbs Complete Series (Books 1-3) Page 77