View Full Version : Lost Carcosa
Lost Carcosa
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It is 1943 and the world is caught up in the conflict of World War II. Carcosa is a territory of the United States, a small island off the coast of the Canadian Maritimes and New England, and remains fairly isolated and self-sufficient. It is largely inhabited by fishermen, farmers, and craftspeople, and has but one small city by the same name.
Carcosa's reputation is akin to the Bermuda Triangle of the North Atlantic. It's considered a bad luck place to live by most and has little to no tourist appeal. There are rumors of the strange, unusual, and paranormal, but nothing has been confirmed. Residents are superstitious and diverse, its history long, dark, and complicated, as it was settled by many different peoples, yet no settlements lasted more than a century until recently. There has been evidence of an ancient native culture, but only very little... until now.
Twilight in August was a warm, misty thing, and a wooly fog crept across the city to embrace its quiet inhabitants. Carcosa was a peculiar place, new to this civilization but old and creaking under foot. Architecture was fairly modern with structures no more than half a century old, but it was interesting to see the new world meet something more ancient in the aged rubble of the borrowed foundations they built upon. These remnants of past cultures were telling of the island's bleak past, previously uninhabitable to the many tribes and explorers who aimed to call it their own. One couldn't dig a hole for a fence post without discovering an unmarked grave or some material testament to yet another failed settlement, but such a thing was so normal that no one considered it strange anymore. More educated locals knew that the sand and soil of the island was rust-red from a high concentration of iron, but legend explained it much more creatively: it was stained by a cursed thousand years of lost blood.
Outdated oil street lamps lit the end of the street and shone fuzzy in the haze, illuminating one of the more gentrified districts lined with mansion-like townhouses. They were perfectly symmetrical with red brick and white trim, meticulously maintained gardens with wrought iron gates greeting visitors out front. The Goulds lived at 47 Western Avenue, the one with both American and British flags on proudly display from a duet of poles over the front door.
Mr. Gould had been an entrepreneur in London. He and Mrs. Gould met young, married young, and to her delight, to great financial success. After several breathless years of extravagant living and socializing they were blessed with their first child, a cherubic delight they decided to call Charlotte after a particularly pesky great-aunt.
Mrs. Gould was about as good a mother as Charlotte's namesake was pleasant, however, and it was downhill from there. The child grew slowly and learned slowly, much to the embarrassment of her parents, and was soon excommunicated from their attention to the care of a nanny. In hushed receipt of experimental treatments for her frequent seizures, nothing notably effective except perhaps as forms of mild torture, Charlotte grew up to be of surprisingly good character. Though math was a struggle and language not much better, from the day she picked up a violin, she learned to speak with it instead.
At the dawn of the Second World War, Mr. Gould was given an opportunity to relocate. Though it was debatable that he did it out of the interest and safety of his family –– it was rumored Mrs. Gould threatened suicide when faced with separation from her friends and family –– they soon ended up in Carcosa, all three members in tact and not too much worse for wear.
Nannies were slim pickings in a place like that, however, and after multiple failed attempts to ship one over from home, Mrs. Gould conceded and hired a less-than-optimal candidate, the mysterious Miss Anna Smith. Much to her chagrin, Charlotte attached herself to the young woman immediately and showed a drastic improvement in demeanor.
Currently they were quickly approaching the first anniversary of Ania's service. Charlotte had been fixated on what kind of cake the occasion would require, having dubbed it the ever-important "Annie-versary", and had been almost impossible to contain since her mother had mentioned it casually in passing one week prior.
Today was worrying, however. Charlotte had been sullen when Anna brought her to music lessons, something which was usually the highlight of her week, and on their walk back she was abnormally quiet, even for someone of few words such as herself. For the entire six block walk her pale little hand was clenched securely around a fistful of the fabric of Ania's skirt, budging for nothing. At the gate of her house she hesitated, freckled lip trembling. Something was wrong.
"You know, Rajmund's been asking about you." Samuel, the broad shouldered young man sent a teasing look to his younger sister but his smirk fell at the amused snort he received in reply. It was true, Rajmund, the man in question wasn't quite the catch. He had no skills in life and oddly enough always seemed to smell like garlic, but Rajmund was Samuel's best friend so he had to at least try.
"Rajmund. Hah! I'd rather marry a horse." Ania turned up her rather prominent nose while tying her scarf securely under her chin, wanting to show off the beautiful carnations she had just finished embroidering onto it. "At least a horse is good for something."
"Ania, I'm about to become a father, I can't keep looking out for you and we're all tired of tip toeing around the subject." With his eyes staring intensely at anything but his sister, Samuel continued. "No one wants to say anything because we know how much you liked Wit, but he's dead and you're not. He would have wanted you to move on. I mean, it's been a year Ania."
Lips pressed lightly together, Ania pursed them to keep herself from saying anything she would regret, and she knew she had a lot to say, most of which would make her grandmother blush. Curse words aside, she was mostly upset that they had all been treating her differently since the accident and now she knew why. A look of stubborn defiance came over her face as she sucked in a sharp breath.
"I see. Well your concern is noted but you can go -
"Everyone!" Her harsh speech was cut short as her father arrived on horseback, his thin frame bouncing as the mare came to a halt and he carefully lowered himself to the ground. "Everyone pack up anything important, we're leaving tonight."
Moving at the drop of a hat wasn't odd for her family and friends, or any other romani that she knew of, but there was something about the way her father was nervously wringing his hands together that frightened her. Despite being smaller in stature than his wife and even half of his children, their father was the bravest man they knew, but slowly over the course of the past few weeks he had become scared of something.
"Where are we going?" Samuel asked, giving Ania a look that said he had noticed the change in their father as well. Their father just wrung his hands some more, shaking his salt and peppered hair slightly.
"America."
__________________________________________________ ___
Ania sat at the small wooden table that adorned her room at the boarding house. A plate with a slice of bread and a glass of milk rested in front of her, untouched as she read the most recent letter from her family for the third time. It had only arrived this morning but it was comforting looking over the elegant words that she knew her father had penned. It was over a year since she had last seen them. According to the note they were moving to a new town again, having been run out of the last one due to a fight. They didn't live with their heritage in secrecy like Ania did and they paid the consequences. Sometimes Ania felt like a coward but she knew this was for the best. She wasn't adverse to a fight, having been raised the youngest to three older brothers, but she really didn't want to ruin what she had going here. Charlotte was a sweet girl and Ania genuinely enjoyed her time as a nanny.
Included in the letter was a photo of Samuel's baby boy, which Ania placed in a small tin box with other little treasures under her bed. Though tempted as she was to stay and forge through the keepsakes, Ania knew she had better hurry or she would be late to taking Charlotte to her music lessons.
Practically inhaling her breakfast, Ania adjusted the plain dark blue dress she was wearing then pulled her long black hair into a simple bun. Fitting in was impossible for her, but at least she could be modest and not make a spectacle of herself! With one last look in the mirror to make sure she was as little exotic looking as possible, she hurried out the door.
_____________________________________
Everything about today was off, or maybe it was just Charlotte, but that was enough to worry Ania. She looked over at her as they arrived back at Charlotte's house and she saw a familiar look in the young girl's eyes. She was afraid of something.
"Lottie." She took the girl's hand away from her skirt and held it with a firm reassuring grasp. "You can tell me if you want, whatever is."
Ania looked back at the house and frowned slightly. If Charlotte didn't want to talk, Ania would walk into the house first to make sure everything was as it should be.
Charlotte just stared at the ground and, before she could offer any sort of response, Mrs. Gould opened the front door. "Ah, we've been expecting you," she greeted them both coldly, as if they didn't live there. "Come in, come in."
Her daughter shuffled inside, the soles of her shoes scuffing on the hardwood floors. Mrs. Gould winced, but remained silent as she showed them into the front parlor. A teenaged girl was waiting there, sitting primly and sipping expertly from a delicate cup of tea. Her golden brown hair was done in perfect ringlets and she offered the others an awkward smile when they arrived. She looked to Charlotte, set down her beverage, and spoke in the most condescending tone imaginable, a high-class English accent lacing her words tighter than her Puritan undergarments. "Ah, this must be Charlotte. Hello, dear." The friendliness was so forced it might've choked the little girl if she was any closer and instead of responding, Charlotte buried her face in Ania's skirt.
Mrs. Gould looked to Ania. "Your services are no longer needed," she said matter-of-factly. "You will receive one month's severance pay. I've asked Mr. Singh to drive you home."
Lottie whimpered against the fabric of Ania's skirt as her mother tried to pry her loose. "Come now," she sighed impatiently. "You're old enough that you need someone proper and educated looking after you." The woman didn't bother disguising her pleasure in seeing Miss Anna Smith go.
Ania's muscled tensed in unison with Charlotte's as the girl's mother appeared. Ania knew the woman well enough to know that her arrival never meant anything pleasant. It was now just a matter of finding out what flavor of poison she would be spitting out this time. Though, despite her expectations for foul play, Ania could not have predicted this.
She looked back and forth between the three women, Charlotte, her mother and the replacement. Was this really happening. Her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare at Mrs. Gould who should count herself lucky that Ania didn't throw any of her grandmother's favorite curses at her. Ania thought about her family and what they would do if they were in her position. Probably start a fight and kidnap little miss Charlotte to live with them on the road in their caravan. Yes, that didn't seem like the best idea. No wonder they were always being run out of town. Ania needed to be a tad more diplomatic than that, even if it went against every fiber of her being.
"I see. Well I do wish you the best of luck. Should you ever need any help with Charlotte, you will know where to find me." She sent the young girl a sly wink before heading for the door. This wasn't over yet. Ania still had a few tricks up her sleeve, and worse comes to worse she might call in her family after all. Surely Charlotte would do better with them than the alternative! But that was a last resort.
As she closed the door behind her, Ania let out a heavy sigh and roughly pulled her hair out of the tight bun. She needed a break. Maybe a glass of something strong was in her future.
Ania was allowed to leave, and as she did a muffled shriek that signified the start of a tantrum rang through the cracks in the door. Charlotte became inconsolable and it would be her new caretaker's first test of competency.
Meanwhile, a stylish town car rolled up like a rumbling ship out of the fog, drifting and bouncing over uneven gravel to pull up to the gate. It stopped with a squeal of brakes and a young man in uniform stepped out, stepping around to open the passenger side rear door for his charge. "Good evening, Miss Smith," he greeted her, white teeth stark against his dark lips as he offered her the most genuine, albeit modest, smile she'd seen all day.
Seth Singh was a beacon of hope to those who found themselves a little out of place in the world. He was a pretty little picture of unlikely success, having strayed from the footsteps of his similarly skilled father to purchase a car and start his own business. Elsewhere it may not have flown, but here in Carcosa, there wasn't much competition.
Once the man got a good look at Ania, however, his expression relaxed into a gentle frown. "Are you alright?" This was a bit personal coming from a mere acquaintance, but in the same way bartenders earned unsolicited confessions, there was something reassuring in the warmly professional way he ushered her into the car.
Ania stared at the man for a long moment, wondering why he was getting so blurry, then she realized she was on the verge of tears. Uhgh, not now.
"I'm fine." The reply came out more shaky than she had hoped, and she took a quick second to wipe her eyes while he was opening the door, hoping he didn't notice, but goodness he seemed like he actually cared. Maybe it was part of his job, or a trait to acquire more tips. Ania couldn't blame him, she and Samuel were quite the pickpockets in their youth.
Ania sat down in the back seat and fussed with the sleeves of her rather drab dress. Apparently trying to blend into the crowd wasn't the answer, they wanted her to look like that girl. Blonde, soft features, perfect ringlets. Well that wasn't going to happen, so she just needed to stick around until the woman quit. In all her live long days she never imagined she would be rooting for little miss Charlotte to throw as many tantrum as possible.
"I was fired." She spoke, without realizing she had said it out loud. What kind of magic did this man have to make her feel so comfortable with talking to him. Well that was the last of it, most definitely.
"Though I don't plan on giving up that easily. Miss Charlotte belongs with me because I actually care about her and if they think that I'm..." Ah she was doing it again. "N-Nothing, just forget it. You can drop me off right there, thank you."
Seth drove on as Ania broke down in the backseat. "Now, miss," he replied calmly, his voice reflecting warmly against the polished leather interior. He didn't slow down when she announced her stop and instead cautiously rounded a precariously foggy corner, but he did take a moment to extract a pristinely pressed handkerchief from his pocket and offered it over his shoulder. "I promised I would deliver you home safely. Take some deep breaths."
Shortly thereafter the boarding house rose from the mist before them and Seth pulled up, putting the car into park and emerging to open Ania's door before she could collect herself. He held a calling card in his hand and, after helping her out, gave it to her. "If you have trouble finding new employment, don't hesitate to reach out. Have a good night, Anna."
The chauffeur closed the car door with a soft thud behind the distraught young woman and stood to wait watchfully, making sure she got inside safely before his own departure. The light was strange, twilight mellowed into indigo dusk. Droplets of condensation hung visibly in the air, floating past the headlights with the gentle, cool breeze that tugged one curl of raven hair out of place and draped it across Seth's concerned brow. He wasn't a particularly handsome fellow, nor tall, but he cut a pleasing figure with the sharp angles of his meticulously tailored driver's uniform.
Ania's tears had dissipated by the time the driver handed her the handkerchief, but she did appreciate the gesture and took it between her finger and thumb, admiring the handsome embroidery along the edges. Seth was a kind man. They had never really interacted but he had a reputation for being reliable and his tan skin gave her the familiar feeling of home, though she would never tell anyone that. She still had a facade to uphold. Speaking of facade, Ania pulled her hair back into a loose knot and smoothed the wrinkles on her dress. She was still angrier than ever over what just happened but luckily she had inherited her mothers 'pick your battles' attitude and knew if she wanted to get Miss Lottie back, giving the girl's mother a black eye wasn't going to help any.
"Thank you, again." She stepped out of the car and held out his kerchief in exchange for the card, carefully looking it over before tilting her head back towards Seth, or rather the misty outline of where he was.
The fog clung to her hair and clothes like a blanket of sweat and she honestly didn't care for it much. It took her long enough to look respectable in the morning and she didn't want to have to put on a repeat performance. "I'll call this number if things don't work themselves out tomorrow... take care on your drive back."
Tucking the card neatly in her pocket, she nodded her head to the misty form of sharp angles and crisp lines before retreating back into the boarding house. She wondered if the new Nanny had pulled her hair out yet. She hoped so.
Seth accepted the handkerchief and folded it precisely before tucking it back into his breast pocket. Amber eyes watched Ania as she disappeared inside, and as she closed the door she'd hear the faint clap of a closing door and rev of an engine as he pulled away.
On the table at the end of the hall where Ania's room was sat a newspaper; Mr. Morse, the elderly tenant across the way, must have left it there. The headlines read something concerning: a German plane had been spotted not far off Carcosa's coast and, paired with a U-boat sighting not long ago, it was enough to rouse the island's inhabitants from their detached emotions toward the war. It was no longer something far away, something that affected other people. It could be coming for them, too.
If Ania checked her pockets that evening, she'd find Charlotte's favorite green hair ribbon. It was a deep hue with a lot of blue in it, and the girl had explained once as she sleepily inspected its shiny contours under a lamp that it was her favorite because it looked like the sea. The ocean wasn't blissfully blue in Carcosa like other places; it was a dark and bottomless thing, not for swimming or sailing, but to respect with caution. One of Charlotte's favorite things was to sneak up into the widow's walk for hours at a time just to look out and watch, as if she thought something might be coming.
It might have been too much credit to say Charlotte put it there on purpose, but either way, it was an excuse to drop by if and when Ania felt inspired.
Ania held the turquoise colored ribbon, each end pinched between two fingers and outstretched in front of her. She wondered what she could do with it. Taking it back was an excuse to see Miss Lottie again, but was it too soon? The new Nanny might not yet be out of her mind. Ideally a few days would have been best, but Ania knew she would just drive herself crazy sitting around in this small room for that long. It had to be tomorrow.
_____________________
The next day, dressed in the most modest of all her outfits, Ania took off for the long walk to Lottie's house. She considered calling Seth via the card he had given her, but it was a favor she hadn't earned yet, and she was hoping to save that call for an emergency, like if this plan fell through.
Betsy, the replacement nanny –– or, as Mrs. Gould would call it with her nose in the air, governess –– was in the kitchen with her arm up to the elbow in the biscuit jar when Ania arrived the next morning. She took a bite of a cookie and was promptly interrupted by the doorbell, at the sound of which she hid her snack behind her back and trotted out to greet whom she hoped would be that fetching mailman she saw earlier.
Disappointment graced her round face as she glanced out the curtain and she got a glimpse of Ania's drab dress. With a sigh she cracked open the door, glaring with impatience that showed in her short greeting. "Mrs. Gould said you're not to see her."
Ania suppressed the urge to frown and extracted the ribbon, holding it out. "This is Charlotte's, I just wanted to make sure she got it."
Betsy reached out to accept it, realizing about halfway that she had the biscuit in her hand. She looked at it, shrugged with a sudden lapse in the vindication she'd shown before. "That girl's a nightmare, I don't know how you did it," she confessed, opening the door the rest of the way and stuffing the rest of the treat in her mouth. "She keeps hiding from me, can't find her, don't care anymore. Maybe you can make her listen." That last sentence trailed off through a muffled mouthful of crumbs as she walked into the parlor and draped herself dramatically across a chaise.
Ania was left with an opportunity and she seized it, taking off up the stairs. She knew exactly where Lottie would be, and she was correct.
Charlotte had disappeared to the widow's walk, a little windowed loft accessible by some long-forgotten stairs in the guest room. When Ania scaled the small obstacle she discovered the little girl, but not in her usual position on a stool facing the seascape. Her fragile figure was sprawled across the floor face down, one arm hanging over the top step as if to hint what harm she might've met if only she'd been inches closer to the stairwell. Her seat had toppled over and was tangled in her skinny legs, one showing the first blush of a bruise as it laid caught in a rung. Lottie's eyes were closed, brow furrowed, drool and blood forming a stringy brown puddle under her sleeping face. Her dress was stained. Her pale hair fell loosely across the hardwood floor, its scratched surface badly in need of polishing, her damaged body that of a discarded porcelain doll.
She'd obviously been there like that for hours.
Ania stared down in horror at the sprawled out frail body of Charlotte. Her breath was trapped in her throat as the realization began to wash over her. Charlotte could be dead.
It took her longer than she would like to admit to kneel down and check the young girl's pulse, but when she finally gathered up the courage to do so, a faint beating alerted her that the girl was alive, even if just barely.
"C-Call someone." She croaked, her eyes burning with tears but mostly anger at this new nanny. "Call an ambulance now! Hurry!"
All that came next was an elaborate gasp of curses, things so would do to Betsy if she didn't help, and the majority of ideas weren't pretty. Ania did her best to stop any bleeding with whatever she could find, but was careful not to move Charlotte. She had seen plenty of horse riding accidents and that was the last thing you wanted to do.
"Lottie."
When Ania went to Charlotte's side she groaned to life, disoriented and weary. Betsy just barely heard a mangled shout from upstairs and trotted up, where she obeyed Ania's order to call for help. Per order of the Goulds she called Charlotte's physician first, and within minutes he was there to diagnose the girl as being in a post-fit haze. She was cleaned up, inspected for injuries which appeared to be minor, and sent to bed where she insisted Ania never leave her side.
Betsy was canned with efficiency impressive even of Mrs. Gould, dragon woman as she was, and Ania was reinstated with tight-lipped relief as a more competent guardian.
Life went back to normal, but anxiety over the war continued to grow.
It was a warm and foggy summer evening much like the one weeks ago when Ania almost lost her job. The mist stuck to their skin as they began their walk home from violin lessons, something which would have been uncomfortable in the hot peak of summer, but with the first whispers of autumn on a chilly breeze from the Atlantic, it was a welcome last taste of good weather before cold set in. Winter was long in Carcosa.
Charlotte had taken off her hat and was skipping ahead, in high spirits. The Annie-versary had been a success and she was already planning her own birthday party, though it was still several months away. "Cat," she exclaimed, suddenly stopping at an alley to see a skittish stray tabby clatter its way out of an empty trash can and dash away down the street. Charlotte stopped, suddenly looking very serious. "We will need cats. Annie––"
Her little voice was cut off by the wail of a high-pitched siren, a sharp howl that swept through the streets and rattled off the tall brick buildings. The little girl immediately covered her ears and cowered against Ania, burying her face in the woman's dress. More sirens picked up the call and turned on in various increments around the city, setting off a symphony of panic and spotlights.
Ania was happy to have 'normal' back. She was even happy for dull moments, though it was out of character, becuase it meant things were stable. She had her job back and Miss Charlotte. Reason enough to celebrate~
She watched as a cat cut down the street, much to Lottie's exclamation. That was until the siren's started and Ania found her arms full with the young girl who was burrowing her face into Ania's dress. Cuss, this wasn't an area she knew well enough, but there weren't a lot of options. They needed to be underground.
"Charlotte, listen to me." She held the girl's hand tightly. "We're going to go somewhere safe. Stay close."
Her eyes scanned all the nearby buildings until she noticed the small brick department store. It wasn't much but it was sure to have a deep basement for inventory.
"This way." She pulled Charlotte across the street and into the shop. "Hello? Can we go in your cellar?"
If they were allowed or if no one was on the first floor to answer, she would hurry Charlotte down the stairs.
The shop was open but no one was there. At the sound of the air raid alarm the owners had gone to the neighbors' basement instead, and Ania and Charlotte were about to find out why.
It was dark, one flickering bulb in the ceiling their only light. It only had a few items –– some things that required climate control for preservation, like tea and coffee –– and the rest was a bleak dirt-floored cellar, complete with a couple old mouse traps snapped shut on long-deceased little moles. The dead rodents were beginning to smell and Charlotte made Ania hold her, her whimpers testament to her discontent as she wrapped her skinny arms around the woman's neck. Not that this was a pleasant situation for anyone, of course.
Minutes passed and nothing changed, and there was just the dull wail of sirens that permeated their underground hiding place. Just when Ania might have thought it had been long enough to check the street, however, Carcosa's fears became real.
The first bomb was far enough away that it was a whisper of a groan in the earth. Charlotte didn't even notice, so wrapped up in her emotions as she was, but the hanging light swayed and a moth stirred from its place on the damp stone wall.
Moments passed, the faint roar of jet engines almost lost in the alarm, but soon enough the second hit. It was much closer and the structure felt it. The ground shook under their feet and the wood above them creaked, some dust disturbed from the beams. There was a strange sound from behind one of the stone walls, but it was drowned out by Charlotte's screaming. The light flickered out and one of the nearby sirens stopped, now replaced by shouting. That one had been frighteningly close.
In the dark Charlotte sobbed, becoming worn out from the stress. As she calmed a second sound replaced her gasps: the trickle of water. A water main had broken just on the other side of the ancient cellar wall. That was why the shop keepers hadn't hid here.
Before Ania could do anything about it, another bomb hit. It all happened so fast, the last thing she felt before everything went black was Charlotte being torn from her arms.
Ania slowly opened her eyes. It was dark, her dress was soaked, she had a splitting headache and more importantly, she couldn't feel the reassuring pressure of Charlotte wrapped around her waist.
"C-Char..lotte." Her voice shuddered as she slowly sat up. Her muscles ached and the headache seemed ten time worse in an upright position. With a shaky hand she reached up and felt something warm and wet on her forehead. A cut. Ania must had hit her head on one of the rocks, but she was sure it looked worse than it was. There were more important things to worry about. Where was she?
It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but even when they did she didn't recognize her surroundings. All she knew was that a pipe must have burst with the explosion from the bomb and that Charlotte was missing. A faint light wasn't too far away. Maybe someone could hear her.
"Charlotte!" With more strength this time, she called out for the girl while standing up and looking around. "Anyone. Is anyone there? Charlotte, if you can hear me, yell so I can find you."
Charlotte was nowhere to be seen. Behind Ania was the fallen part of the tunnel she was in, mounds of ancient stones broken and piled to obstruct any hope of exit in that direction. The ground was wet, a constant stream of water trickling in through the rubble, but its heavy mass kept this pocket from flooding. The floor of the chamber was studded by muddy puddles, some areas shallow, others several inches deep and rippling with the constant surge of water. It seemed almost to glitter in the subdued lighting.
It was eerily quiet. The sirens had stopped and there was the faintest hint of chaos out on the streets, but Ania was isolated. There was a faint source of light in the ceiling but, upon inspection, it was revealed to be a tall and narrow vent of sorts and not a viable escape route at present. Gnarly roots had grown into it, obscuring Ania's view of the overcast sky, but it was there, and soft columns of light were her only comfort when her shouts went unheard.
As the woman began to search for Charlotte the tunnel revealed itself to be reminiscent of the catacombs from Europe; deep, narrow, and twisting, there were multiple other passages that were blocked off by various obstructions. Foreign script studded the stones in the walls, long and trailing and mysterious in never-ending sentences that seemed to wrap something tight, like string to secure a parcel.
Carcosa was known for the fact that it had been built upon the aged ruins of another civilization, one about which little was known. Ania was the first person in centuries to visit this place, the structure just another forgotten relic of the forgotten people.
The end of the tunnel wasn't far, just close enough that there was just enough light that Ania could inspect the dead end. It seemed to be a purposeful one at that, framed in white stone that had once been polished under the thick layer of dust and grime, and was carved with great craftsmanship. The design beneath was hidden, however, under a network of tree roots that had crept in searching and twisting like fingers over the centuries and now seemed to grasp at what was there, holding it fast. There was a larger growth of vegetation in the center of the wall and separate from the stone, its deliberate arrangement harkening to a cradle.
It was odd to see that there was green in the foliage that grew there, suspicious without direct sunlight or any hint of care. What was stranger yet, however, was what it held.
At eye level was a face. Upon further investigation Ania would notice that there was an entire body there concealed beneath the ivy, glimpses of healthy peach-colored skin studded through the living emerald blanket. It was a beautiful woman, perhaps her age or slightly younger, with long blonde lashes and generous lips curled ever so slightly at the corners in blissful repose.
And repose it was, for though one's first instinct might be that this was some sort of expertly preserved mummy, such a hypothesis was quickly dispelled as her chest heaved gently with a restful sigh.
What was a woman doing down here? And naked!
Ania felt her cheeks warm as she quickly averted her eyes. She needed some answers and the only way that was going to happen was if the girl woke up. Careful to only make contact as quickly as possible, Ania patted the girl's shoulder.
"Excuse me." She returned her gaze intensely to the ceiling while still addressing the young woman who seemed around Ania's age and height. "Are you hurt?"
Surrounded by blonde hair and not an inch of clothing, the girl blinked awake and turned her attention to Ania. Well at least she was alive.
"No, but you are." the roots slid away slightly as she reached out to touch Ania's forehead, but Ania flinched away before she could make contact.
"It's just a scratch, I'm fine." Had she just seen those roots move? Not possible. The dim lighting was probably playing tricks on her eyes. "Where are your clothes."
The young woman smiled and shook her head. Even though smiling her brows furrowed with worry. "No. Don't need them. What's your name."
"Don't need them?" Ania scrunched up her nose and crossed her arms in a protective stance. She had heard about natives who enjoyed the nude but this was too strange. "Anna. I presume the only way this could all come to be is if you hit your head. Some sort of injury that makes you think you don't need clothes. We need to get out of here and get you to a doctor. But first, have you seen a little girl?"
The woman shakes her head again, brows still furrowed.
"I'm fine, and no, I haven't."
"Hey!" A male voice shouted, distant and originating from the light source in the ceiling not far from the women. It reverberated off the stone walls of the chamber, as if to remind Ania where she was. "Is anyone down there?!"
Ania was startled but glad for it. "Yes! There are two of us. Maybe three. I was separated from a little girl. Is she up there?" She looked back at the woman beside her and frowned. They couldn't be rescued with her looking like that. "Can you find a sheet or something like that? My friend is... indecent at the moment."
"Are you trapped? We'll get you out as soon as we can!"
But when Ania looked back to where the girl was in the wall, the tightly woven roots and foliage seemed to have buried her figure right into the structure. Fair skin was nowhere to be seen, the only break in the pattern a slight shine of silver buried beneath some vines, and she wondered for a moment if she'd hit her head harder than she thought.
The rescue soon liberated her from tunnel after clearing the shaft and lowering her a rope, but that didn't ease anything that was going on in her mind. She had lost Charlotte. Ania explained the situation to the men and women working through the rubble on that block and they only acknowledged her sadly. A police officer told her she should go home, that he'd continue the search and she needed to get checked out by a doctor.
Seth was there, along with everyone else, using his car to bring wounded to the hospital. He was quite a sight, covered in dust and grime and brown stains of dried blood that obviously weren't his own. He'd removed the jacket of his uniform and rolled up his sleeves, his tie loose and top button undone. He brushed some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as he noticed Ania and it was then she noticed how long it had been since the bomb hit. The sun was just starting to set; she'd been in that tunnel all day. Charlotte had been missing for many hours.
"Anna! Are you alright?! You look dreadful. Here, let me take you to the hospital." Seth motioned to his car with his head and offered his handkerchief to her, one identical to the one the last night they talked. The back of the cab was filled by several people, all visibly exhausted and disturbed, but fortunately none of them seemed seriously hurt.
"I'm sure I look lovely." She tried to joke but her dark mood just made it sound sad. "Charlotte's missing. I need to go tell her mother."
Seth frowned, his already tired face aging with concern. He hesitated, then nodded. "You still need to see a doctor, though. I'll drop you off on our way to the hospital and pick you up after I drop them off, alright? Don't you dare try walking in that condition."
They got in his car. Ania took the front seat, riding silently until he dropped her off at the goulds. Mrs. gould answered the door and looks worried.
Mrs. Gould wasn't a warm woman by any means, but when she saw Ania, it was as if some of the ice in her heart melted. "Oh goodness, we were worried," she sighed, the words rolling off her tongue unnaturally but genuinely. "Are you…?" She motioned to her own forehead to emphasize Ania's injury.
It was almost worse having her concerned when Ania knew the news she was about to give. "Charlotte's missing." She turned her gaze towards the ground. "We were in a basement, the bomb went off and I was knocked out. When I came to she was gone. I-I looked for her. I'll look more... I'm sorry."
Mrs. Gould's lips pursed and her cool green eyes squinted a bit as if she didn't quite understand what Ania was saying. "Ah, but... you didn't know?" Suddenly her brows pinched, her face wrinkling in agitation. "I swear, that girl!" The woman reeled around in the doorway and stepped into the parlor, taking long and vindictive strides to reach the closed door that led to the small sitting room that was usually reserved for Charlotte's tutoring sessions.
She opened it and there inside stood the little girl, in her pajamas with a blanket over her shoulders, wide-eyed with a warm cup of tea clenched in front of her chest. Charlotte had been listening. She stared at Ania, registering her presence with less enthusiasm than usual. "Annie," she gasped, almost matter-of-factly. "You're alright." There was something strange in her expression, unreadable and foreign. Perhaps it was the trauma from the day's events that had her off-kilter.
"Walked home on her own," Mrs. Gould sighed, hand on her hips as the other still grasped the doorknob. "Didn't tell us you'd gotten hurt."
"I got scared," Charlotte's meek voice explained, eyes darting between her mother and mentor as if she wasn't sure which she should plead to. "Sorry."
The light in the parlor was dim, the electric lights casting a yellow haze over the vibrant furnishings, but there was something different about Charlotte's skin. Instead of a healthy blush residing under that fair skin it was a jaundiced pallor, her fingertips and lips almost the same pale matte gold as her hair. But it was getting late, Ania had hit her head, and the girl had been through a lot. Maybe it wasn't the world that was strange, it was just the events of the day coupled with Ania's struggling constitution.
Ania wasn't sure what she expected, but this certainly wasn't it.
"Oh thank god." She leaned against the doorway, the exhaustion kicking in now that all her adrenaline was gone. "It's okay Charlotte. I'm just glad you're fine. I was really worried, but you did good getting to safety."
She turned to look back at Charlotte's mother.
"I promised I would go to the hospital, but if you need me just call and I'll come right back." Ania gave Charlotte a smile, thinking that all the weirdness was just due to the craziness of what happened. And with that she waited outside for Seth to go get her head examined and see if dreaming of naked women was normal or not. Oh no, she suddenly realize a vision like that could mean something completely different. ahhh.
The Goulds let Ania go without fuss, Charlotte ushered silently back into her quiet room, and Mrs. Gould giving Ania a reminder that she was expected on time for work tomorrow (so much for sympathy).
Seth arrived soon after Ania stepped outside to wait. Despite his unprofessional appearance he still insisted on opening the front passenger door for her, a loaded notion: he was showing her habitual respect, but inviting her to sit in the front of the car with him when the backseat was available meant that they'd bridged the gap to friendship.
He took the news of Charlotte's mistaken disappearance and not-so-miraculous reappearance in stride. "Thank heavens," he replied with a sigh, leaning back wearily as he drove. His posture seemed to slacken, as if the good news was the last thing he needed to relax after the long day. Seth didn't seem to judge Ania's delusion, crediting her injuries to any amount of confusion that followed.
A doctor at the hospital diagnosed Ania with a minor concussion, gave her some light medication for any headaches to follow, bandaged up the scrape on her head, and sent her home so he could focus on the worse-off patients. Seth was there to drive her home.
The chauffeur was unusually quiet as they drove, but after some long moments he let out a sigh. "I'm glad you're alright," he said quietly. "Perhaps, if you're feeling well enough by then, would you be interested in coming out with me and some friends? One of our favorite bands is playing at a swell little place on Hanover Street."
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