The Castle is an erotic short story about domicide, homicide and sexually-induced psychosis… The Castle is not yet complete and is presented here as a work-in-progress…
The Castle is a work of fiction-fact

The Castle
by
The Naked Blonde Writer

Copyright © The Naked Blonde Writer, 2019
All Rights Reserved

MOTHER commissioned the snow globe as a gesture of goodwill. She had a woman and a baby put inside the globe, standing in front of the castle. The figurines did little more than annoy him because he understood the message they were designed to convey.

Outside, the real castle shuddered while the shadows of eternity shifted through the snow, seeking solace in anything but finding sanctuary nowhere in the dereliction. He was naturally oblivious to all of this. With large, clean, attractive hands, he took the globe and closed it in his ample fist. He shook it violently then threw it aside and as he did so a sudden snowstorm erupted over the castle seemingly in imitation of the scene inside that tiny globe. The fake flakes obscured the young mother and child while outside in the real-life courtyard he sensed a strange silence in his universe which prompted him toward his window from on high, before which there stood his telescope.

Through the lens he looked with his intense stare to discover the strangest scene. Had he been a writer he might have written…

Once upon the castle came snowflakes falling fast, as the chiming clock in its tower was began calling, “quick quick! Midnight is coming to pass!” And Home Sweet Home was singing across the courtyard without a body, as the only man watching heard an alteration of the words singing in this foul age of loneliness Home is where the horror is and you have lost your heart…

So he sat, surveying the scene like a kaleidoscope dream, when suddenly – down below – as if by black magic a woman appeared…

It was the final February of the twentieth century and all higher culture was dead. The theatre – his theatre – remained protected by law but the building was falling down, unloved as it had been, by human hands for too long now… the roof was caving in and every room where once so many had flourished – except for those who died of course – was now completely uninhabitable… only his room was warm and clean and new… only one other room might host human presence but no other human being dwelled in the castle by night until now… now what witchery had made this woman appear…

The man behind the telescope had been alone all of his forty years when she arrived. His name was Maximus Greenaway.

Maximus Greenaway liked to watch the sky with his telescope by night because Maximus Greenaway was one of the loneliest people in what contemporary sages were calling ‘The Age of Loneliness…’ At that time the masses had become distracted by a new fad called the ‘internet’ and the philosophers were predicting an increase in loneliness because of this new phase in human history. Maximus Greenaway saw it as the way of the future and was desperate to install the ‘internet’ at the castle; a task which was proving impossible due to the remote location of his new home.

So there she was, as if brought to the ground by a snowflake, petite, delightful, blonde and sweet… carrying nothing but a vibrant smile, dressed in a white coat and sensible boots, wearing no make up, glowing like a summer rose… almost a mirage, really…

Through the telescope Maximus Greenaway beheld her long blonde hair floating down her back like a unicorn’s mane, … in that stunning silence he beheld tears of joy falling from her eyes as she stood gazing up at the marble statue of a woman on the roof of his theatre… she was far pretty than mother’s figurine, but she might have easily stepped ot of the snowglobe, if Maximus Greenaway believed in such fantasy and strangely – albeit fleetingly – he found himself scanning the courtyard for the baby but quickly he checked himself and sniggered… what a powerful influence mummy still had over him, he thought for a moment.

The snowglobe lay where he had thrown it and inside mummy’s little world had settled into stillness… outside, though, the universe was being shaken by a power too infinite for contemplation, a power in which Maximus Greenaway certainly did not believe although even he – despite his solipsistic leanings – could not deny , at times like these, that the universe must have some metaphysical intelligence behind it to create scenes such as this one… the castle was awhirl with white fluffy flakes, furiously covering the courtyard and the surrounding hills… as if God himself had reached down and shaken everything awake so that the castle – his castle – might begin to live again in this: The Year Dot.

Maximus Greenaway named the period of his arrival at the castle ‘The Year Dot’ because he knew he was founding history. The Year Dot was when Maximus Greenaway began to supersede the legacy of his predecessors with a legacy of his own….
They said she left a legacy of Love. What would be the legacy of Maximus Greenaway an hundred years from now?

Through his telescope he beheld the girl as she strangely, endearingly, began to twirl… twirling as if to the rhythm of the weather… snowflakes kissing her complexion… her ice blue eyes sparkling… even someone as insensitive as Maximus could discern that those tears were borne from joy. And indeed, he was right. The woman down below was indeed crying for the realization that she was finally home…

***

Home is where the heart is, she was thinking as she swirled… home is where the heart is… on she whirled with the grace of a prima ballerina and Maximus Greenaway thought about opening his window and calling down to her from his loft in some sort of inverted Romeo and Juliet roleplay… how he longed to join her in the snow! To dance with her and swirl with her all night as everything turned crisp and clean and white… how Maximus envied her freedom… how Maximus wished he too could manifest such abandon… if only he were not so afraid of the fair sex… if only he could call out…

Maximus Greenaway had never been in love nor had he ever wanted to marry, but – for some strange reason – he felt, tonight, that he had fallen in love at very first sight with the woman in the snow and not just moderately but madly. Maximus Greenaway had fallen madly in love!

To fall in love in such a setting – a castle in the mountains in the snow – was somewhat clichéd, he thought.

“What histrionics!” he sniggered at himself, and attempted to shake himself back to the Age of Reason but somehow the poetry in his heart could not be silenced and, as she went swirling around the courtyard, Maximus Greenaway could have sworn that her footsteps were moving to the rhythm of iambic pentameter…

The castle was the woman Maximus Greenaway had never married. The castle was the expensive wife he had never believed he would find. The Castle was his fortieth birthday present to himself… and now she had come…

At the end of the twentieth century weddings had come strangely back into fashion and The Castle was the only remarkable building for miles around… his castle would easily gain a monopoly as the chosen venue in which to get married and hold a wedding party. Such was his plan and Maximus Greenaway – a self-made millionaire – had never – yet – failed in business…

Neither Maximus or the snow dancer saw the shifting shadows around about them when suddenly a violent gust of wind caused the marble statue on the theatre’s roof to sway. So great was the force that it exacerbated a crack in the statue’s wrist. The marble hand came undone and went hurtling down – just missing her head – to drop upon the ground. Then did Maximus Greenaway perceive how his heartbeat had quickened, how he had felt afraid and anxious: when she was in danger. A new emotion had emerged in Maximus; concern for the beloved. He had never before known what it was to care for another. Maximus had never before known what it was to care for anyone but Maximus. This new sentiment made him smile indignantly at the thought of all those who had accused him of being a sociopath…

Indeed, one might have rightfully classified Maximus Greenaway as a narcissist. But not anymore, he thought, as he watched her pick up the marble hand… Maximus was sure he saw her lips move to say ‘thank you’ to the statue overhead as she put the hand inside her pocket.

Had anybody else committed such a crime, Maximus would immediately have called the police but, because his future wife was the thief, he smiled at her boldness. That marble hand had been intact for over one hundred years. Even though Maximus did not believe in the supernatural, it would seem as though the hand had intentionally broken away at this moment, as if the elements had conspired to show her how welcomed ‘home’ she was… Maximus suddenly chuckled; these coincidental happenings were exactly what he intended to exploit for the second part of profiting from the castle… it was to be a supernatural, haunted house, inviting psychics and mediums and ghost hunters from afar to come and spend a night in the most haunted castle in… to come and spend their money in the pursuit of spirits… and this snow dancer would be the perfect guide with her eccentric manners… indeed, he was thinking in a most unorthodox manner tonight… no doubt because of the madness of love, he realised…

Grace was her name and soon was he to learn it but Grace had no last name and Grace apparently came from nowhere… Oblivious to the watcher she turned from the courtyard and, navigating slowly through the slippery snow, she went under an archway thick with thorns where during summer roses bloom… she stopped at a door and went inside as if she were at home.

The darkness did not frighten her but she felt a trembling in her heart all the same… all around she could hear whisperings and as her eyes became accustomed to the dark she beheld subtle shadows and the sounds of strange movement…

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