lordkaho
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Prologue II- Wunderland
The following accounts are based off the personal experiences of Henry Vance Agincourt
December 11,1703- Waalz
Let me tell you something about ol’ Carroll Mansion.
It’s this grand Franchesckan-style house up Little Parasol hill, just overlooking Dunkelt to the west. From the townspeople’s perspective, only the top of the mansion could be seen amidst the ever present fog that concealed its presence that made it getting there an arduous task in itself, and save for the narrow road that ran down the slope of the hill, the mansion was blanketed by dense wilderness of the surrounding White Forest.
It was very old, somehow built around the summer of 1522. The original owners of the mansion have been lost to history especially after the brutal years of Revolution had resulted in the destruction of most of the historical records in Waalz. However, after painstaking research, I have traced their identities down to their reputed descendant, the current Earl of Vismarcke- Deitreich Von Kempler, who now changed his residency over at Lamburg, leaving the Carrol Mansion masterless ever since. The good Earl said that the mansion was built by his great grand uncle Eiberhart Carroll, the Lord Archibald of Dunkelt, in dedication to his daughter Alice Carroll who he wanted to live there as a present for her 11th birthday.
However, Earl Deitreich adds, little Alice never made it to her 11th birthday. The Red Plague of the 16th century had ravaged much of Waalz and took Alice with it. Nevertheless, the house was still finished, but Lord Eiberhart never dared step foot in it. He left the grand house sitting untouched in Little Parasol hill for centuries, as a memory of his dead daughter
It is often the subject of rumors and tales that ol’ Carroll mansion was the final resting place of lil’ Alice Carroll. And as typical of the superstitious townsfolk, it had been common belief that that house was badly haunted. But as a true scholar and a believer in the sciences, I mustered up the courage to break the spell of Carroll Mansion and march up Little Parasol hill.
It would then mark the worst mistake of my life.
It was September 21, 1702. The gentle autumn breeze brushed against my skin as I walked out the door of my house, carrying a knapsack full of various accessories and items for my excursion. The withered red-orange maple leaves swayed lightly as the west wind blew them into my direction. I gazed into the horizon as I watched the afternoon sunset. Matilda and the kids were busy preparing for an event this weekend. I knew they wouldn’t bother much while I was gone. “Better move on”, I thought to myself as I quickened my pace out into the outskirts of town.
It was already 5:34 PM when I reached the foot of the hill, and there I met an odd sign at the crossroads that forked into the hill and into the main road. It said;
“Scarlet, laughing smile. Won’t you dance with me?”
I was left confused as to what the meaning behind this road sign was. It was a simple wooden plank hammered into a two meter long pole, written in bright red paint...Or so, it was what I think it was. The sign seemed to be written not long ago, as the still wet ‘ink’ dripped down the sides. The cursive penmanship was distinctly childish, written in a manner similar to crude juvenile vandalism so I merely passed it off as a mere prank made by some mischievous children.
I continue walking up the road in fear that the night might bring about the fog even more denser and lose my way. Little Parasol hill, true to its name looked like a small umbrella from afar, with its pointed top being where the mansion stood. It was like the perfect gift to any hopeful girl, to live in the beautiful paradise of their dreams. The further I went I began to notice that the cobble stone path had not worn down even after centuries of being unattended. It made me think that somehow, the Carroll family might have hired a housekeeper to watch and tend the Mansion.
Then...Suddenly out of nowhere; a great, black cat of gargantuan size ran across the road. It was the size of a sheep dog, but meatier and furrier. It then ran up a nearby oak and proceeded to watch me with its humongous eyes. Its sharp gaze monitored my every move as I started to walk away. It was already at the verge of losing my wits upon the sight of this unnatural feline, but I struggled to maintain my calm as the cat itself seemed to not pose a threat. I was already about a yard away when I turned my back at it, and eerily enough it was still there watching me. The longer I stared at the cat, the less it resembled an animal and the more it resembled a smoky ball of blackness with two bright white orbs for eyes; I could’ve sworn hearing rusty mechanical ticking and turning gears.
But as a man of learning and logic, I paid no further heed to it and moved on. It won’t be soon when I would finally reach the gates of Carroll Mansion.
It was grand and truly fascinating, quite an understatement. I marveled at the architecture of the compound, being in awe as to how it managed to take the test of time, and still be in remarkable condition. There were some vines that crawled and coiled up the metal fence and the gate, but nothing showed that some breakdown had occurred. It was as if not even time or nature had power over this house. Beside the gate, there were two lifelike stone lion statues, a typical decoration of many dwellings of the rich and the high class, acting like would be guard dogs.
I slowly opened the iron gate, in an attempt to not make any sound, but it made an unpleasant metallic screech.
I excused myself after I formally entered the Mansion grounds. It was considerably spacious, at a glance, I could say it was about two acres wide. At the center was a fountain adorned by a marble carousel, that surprisingly was still shooting forth water as it spun. I quickly moved over to inspect it and found out the marble fountain was running on some sort of mechanical contraption. Inside one of the horses, I could see copper cogs and gears twisting and turning, clicking and tapping, as the machine went. It now alarmed me that somehow, someone must be still living here for these machines to work. It hit me that, perhaps...My visit was expected.
Nevertheless, I continued with my search and set my sights unto the mansion itself. It was painted a deep shade of red, not sure if it was the intention of the owner or the paint itself had been soaked by the wooden material used, but still it made a rather astonishing effect on the eyes. It was oddly mesmerizing. Something about it pulled me in, closer and closer. I tried peering into the windows to check if someone was indeed there, but all the candles were unlit. There was nothing there but silence, save for the haunting howling of the autumn wind, and some creaks and rustlings. The vacant feeling was really starting to weigh down on me as tense and uneasiness were already nigh intolerable. But it seemed I had no choice but stay here in the Mansion was it was already dark and I feared for any gang of outlaws that I might cross on my way back to Dunkelt.
I set my hopes that the master of the mansion, if there is indeed any, would take me in for the night and hopefully, wouldn’t mind my ‘harmless’ trespassing.
Carroll Mansion, on the inside, was a house that truly expressed Lord Eiberhart’s love for his daughter. No amount of penny was spared in the beautifying of its interior, from the lush crimson hue of the window curtains, to the fine carpeting that paved some of its floors, and to the exquisite silver chandelier that hung at the reception hall. There were all manners of girlish items that scattered all over the area, like marble busts of animals, paintings of the fabled unicorns, and glass cabinets filled with dolls and toys. All of them I assumed were presents for Alice.
However, amidst its beauty, the unnerving silence and the agoraphobic tense still crept at the back of my mind. The sound of my footsteps tapping against the checkered style floor sounded in unison to the beating of my heart. It was starting to get nauseous.
I was about to place my hand on the wooden hand rail of the wide stairway located at the center of the hall, when to my alarm, the cat from earlier walked past me up the steps. Bringing back my previous hunch, the throng of mechanical sounds that accompanied this mysterious cat led me to conclude that it might be an automaton made as a pet for the Carrolls. The cat eventually led me to a massive portrait of a girl wearing a pretty dress, and tugging a doll to her side. The cat bared a toothy grin, with alarmingly dagger like rows of teeth and darted off into the darkness. I returned my gaze at the picture and thought to myself;
“So this was little Alice?”
However, the longer I gazed into the portrait, to my horror- the image of the girl, Alice, smiled back at me. Thinking it might have been my imagination, I looked back at the picture, but Alice’s once innocent smile only grew wider and wider until it devolved into a menacing grin.
From sheer terror, I jumped down the stairs in a matter of seconds and raced towards the main door. As if the mansion suddenly gained sentience, the main door did not lead me into the front yard but instead it brought me back at the reception hall. Suddenly, soft gentle footsteps could be heard coming down from upstairs.
Frantic and scared out of my wits, I shouted-
“W-WHO’S THERE?!”
A voice replied.
“La, la..La, la… There’s no leaving.”
The voice sung, in a melody that almost seemed like a cheerful lullaby.
“La, la..La,la…So cheer up, clap your hands!”
The voice was getting nearer and nearer.
“La, la, la..La,la, la….There’s no leaving our wonderland!”
Finally, this mysterious singer revealed herself as she stepped in front of the great portrait.
What my eyes had laid upon me defied all manner of reason and sanity. It was then I realized the sheer gravity of the situation I was in. The moment I saw that road sign, was the moment I should have heeded it as a warning.
It was Alice herself, cradling her precious doll- Lil’ Alice Carroll, alive and well, and just as young as a she was in the portrait. Unknown to age and death. Smiling ever so sweetly at her heart’s content. Bearing eyes of gold and skin as pale as the snow.
Muffling a silent scream, I slowly backed off but instead I bumped into ‘something’. Turning around, if my eyes could only scream, I was met by the gruesome figure of a tall butler bearing the head of a furry white hare. This rabbit-man servant had glistening red eyes, and slowly stepped back at a shuffling gait along the maddening chorus of turning gears. Another clockwork automaton?! Thoughts raced inside my mind. The butler then bowed before me and spoke in a manner that could only be the gurgling voice of evil.
“Pardon me, Monsieur…But the lady has been waiting for your arrival.”
Without warning, it lashed both its arms at me with unbelievable speed. I wrestled myself away from his mechanical grip, but it was futile. It stared at me for a good three seconds and then, its once ruby eyes turned pitched black, with tar like liquid flowing forth from what used to be eye sockets. Its tiny, delicate mouth stretched and widened in the most horrifying of ways, with the awful sound of skin ripping and tearing, showing me a mouth that was nothing but an ellipse shaped hole of utter darkness.
The next thing I remember was getting swallowed by this gaping blackness.
But, the worst has yet to come. No, good Ol’ Carroll Mansion was far from done playing with me.
Alice had far more plans for me.
I woke up finding myself in some sort hallway. Windows lined down the corridor to the left and doors, indicating individual rooms, to my right. But once again, there was nothing but utter silence, great deafening silence. Realizing that this was now my chance to escape, I tried smashing one of the windows with my fists but to no effect. The rooms on the other hand, terrified me of the thought of what would’ve laid on the other side of it. It was simply something I dared not risk. I had no other choice but discover what was at the end of the hallway.
Suddenly, each door I moved past by would open then close should I look back. Thinking it was just the mansion playing tricks on me again, I ran as fast as I could towards the end all the while the sequence of opening and closing doors matched my pace with almost perfect timing. No longer able to withstand my curiosity, I feinted a half step then quickly turned around to see who it was. I then bumped into a person, or so I think he was, dressed in a most outlandish style. He wore a thick great brown cloak and a tall beaver felt-hat. I immediately jumped away in shock, but the man did the same. He would then mimic every move I did, until finally shouted;
“Stop it!”
I expected it to be another one of the automatons, but surprisingly, this one was intelligible and replied;
“Oh..hahaha..Sorry about that. I just got too amused in seeing what the rooms looked like on the inside.”
“So,…You were the one closing and opening the doors back there?”, I asked him.
“Yes..Indeed that I was.. To be frank. I’m kind of lost here.”
For an instance, I actually felt somehow relieved, that there was someone just as I am in this house of madness.
“Wait..You’re not one of this mansion’s tenants?”
But he didn’t reply. He just stared at me with his bright green eyes, and out of nowhere, had burst into a hysterical laughter. He spun on his toes like some sort of ballet dancer as his cloak flailed around, all the while resuming his mad cackle and then promptly stopped. He looked at me with confused eyes then grabbed me by the shoulders.
“Wh-what?!” I exclaimed.
“I’M LATE!!...Oh gods..I’m LATE!..Do you know that?” His tone suddenly rose to a shout then fell into a soft, gentle whisper.
“Of course you don’t. I bet you don’t even like tea…Or tea parties.”
“What are you talking about?!” I screamed as I struggled to make sense of this person’s sanity.
“Oh no, oh no! She’s here. She be heeerrrrreeeeeeee~”
He then immersed himself into a suffocating burst of manic chortle. Sanity and logic had long escaped the premises of this mad abode, and what happened next came off as something nothing short of expected. His body bloated into a tight balloon, still in his hysterical fit, and without warning imploded into masses of writhing and slithering disembodied tentacles that wriggled as they rained upon me, leaving only the echoing traces of his insane laughter. I quickly swatted the slimy tendrils away from me but, fortunately for me, they quickly dissolved into blotches of red sludge. However true to what he said, she, who I assumed was referring to Alice, walked down the hall towards me. But this time, she was scraping a giant butcher’s knife along the floor while she twirled around with her doll; full of such youthful grace.
“Where have you left my presents?” She sung.
“Where, o where can it be?”
I tried to run, but my body betrayed me. My body suddenly felt limp and I found myself crashing against the floor like a string less marionette. I tried to scream for help, but my voice too, had left my mouth. Unable to escape or shout, I simply listened to the song of the inevitable death nearing me.
“Are they just empty socks? Oh, just who do I need to kill? Who? Who? Who shall it be?”
Standing atop me, the devil child raised her cleaver above her head and continued with her song.
“When the clock comes to a halt, I shall dance with automata on the Ides of March. But playing with just dolls is boring.”
In one quick stroke, the cleaver fell down towards me. The gargantuan blade brutally ripped through my defenseless abdomen, reeling from every bite of steel as it plunges deep into my flesh, and wasting away that precious red liquid of life. Unable to neither scream nor cry, the mind numbing pain rose up to my head. Amusingly, the agony of flesh and bone being sheared began to feel like an ecstasy to my senses, as my anguished squirm turned to a crooked smile. Alice giggled as she proceeded to make mincemeat out of my body with every staggering chop and slice.
“And all the insides fell out, carved like the face of a pumpkin! A mannequin covered in blood, will never dance!”
That would be the last I would hear of Alice’s song, as my vision turned completely black.
I could never decipher the meaning behind her words nor will I fully grasp what exactly happened on that night, but what I do know is that for some reason, I am still alive. I try to convince myself that the episode at Carroll Mansion had all been just a terrible nightmare but unfortunately, I still bear the marks of that battle. For sure, you can say that I’m now less of a skeptic now when it came to the strange and the supernatural.
From time to time, I would feel like not being myself, being unable to control my body, it was as if I was a puppet held by strings. But I never paid much attention to it, I’m just glad to be alive, to be with my wife and children. It was all that matters to me now.
The inhabitants of Carroll Mansion however…there are just things in this world not meant to be alive.
~Henry
END OF PROLOGUE II
< Message edited by lordkaho -- 10/25/2012 5:00:32 >
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