When the Moon Comes Out

Clouds

When I groggily emerged into consciousness, I found myself laying on a plush mattress with a thick, red comforter over me and encased in soft sheets of the same bright burgundy red. Over my puzzled and shockingly headache-free head was a lacy, black canopy, making this a four-poster bed.
I sat up.
         The room I was in reminded me very much of the one I had stayed in when my parents won a few thousand dollars in the lottery.
         It was fancy, elegant and extravagantly expensive, as obvious as if there were price tags.
         A dark mahogany wood paneled the bottom half of the walls, and the top covered with red cloth embroidered with flowery patterns, stuck flat like wallpaper.
         I got up out of the easily king-sized bed I had been laying in and took a closer look.
         On each side of the bed was a nightstand, the mahogany wood elegantly carved with what might have been morning glory, but was definitely some type of ivy. Each had an elaborate candelabrum on it with cream-colored candles.
         Inset in the wall in front of the bed was a large and ornate door, carved with the same vines, but different flowers. Lilies?
         Upon closer inspection, I saw that the doorknob was silver, vines engraved upon it, too. With worry, I noticed that a double lock seemed to allow me to lock someone out, but someone to lock me in.
         To my one side was a voluminous dresser, covered with expensive looking perfumes and jewelry. A mirror above it, gracefully beveled, reached from the table top up to the ceiling and over to each side.
         Further along the wall was a door that might have led to some sort of bathroom or closet, but I couldn’t see a handle of any sort, so I didn’t try to open it.
         On the wall next to it was an ancient writing desk stocked with parchment and various quill pens, including a peacock feather pen. It looked like it had fell out of the Victorian era and landed here.
         On the other side of the room was an alcove that had no red cloth. Each wall was covered from floor to ceiling with bookshelves, stuffed with books of every colors, width and language, it seemed. Over half of them were English, but I identified some French, German and Spanish titles, along with what I thought could be Japanese, Chinese and Arabic.
         In the middle was a large and comfortable-looking armchair upholstered in black velvet.
         Perfectly decorated, it felt warm and welcoming on the surface, but underneath, it was cold and lonely, un-lived-in.
         Where was I?
         Behind me, the door opened and I whirled around.
         Standing in the doorway was a tall boy who looked to be about 17 years old. His hair was dark brown and his eyes were a hypnotic blue-green, accentuated by his pale, angular face. Dressed in black pants and a black button-down shirt with a few buttons not done, his look was of suave apathy. My breath caught in my chest; he was easily the most attractive person I had ever seen.
         We stared at each other.
         “Hello, Lucy,” he said in a perfect voice like silk.
         “Hello,” I replied nervously. Was this my kidnapper? “How do you know my name?”
         “I’ve been watching you.”
         Watching me?
         “Are you the one who kidnapped me?”
         He looked stricken for a moment, as if what I had said had upset him, but only for a fleeting moment, and I couldn’t be sure if I had really seen that before his face returned to his previous icy calm.
         “Yes.”
         I narrowed my eyes.
         He grinned, revealing a set of perfect white teeth.
         “I imagine that you’re a trite upset with me.”
         “To be honest, I’m more confused than upset.”
         “I’ll explain then —later.”
         I sat down on the bed and looked up at him.
         “First, let me show you around.” He gestured at the room. “Doubtless you have already looked around, but humor me and let me give you the grand tour.” He smiled, breaking through his icy shell, and held out his arm.
         I’m not the type who immediately notices a guy’s looks, but he was hot. I took his arm.
         “Here we have your reading alcove. I noticed that you liked to read, so I made sure to get you a room with books and a desk. This is your dresser, as you can see. If there’s anything of this sort that you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
         I sincerely doubted that I would ever use any of these things.
         He walked over to the smaller door and motioned for me to open it.
         I saw beautiful, elaborate vines carved into the door, but it was missing an essential piece of hardware.
          “There’s no handle…”
         “Oh yeah,” he mumbled as he reached over my shoulder and pulled on a leaf, actually a handle cleverly disguised as a part of the door.
         “Oh. Wow.”
         “My uncle designed and carved all of these by hand.” He opened the door.
         I stepped inside, awestruck. On one side of the room were racks of beautiful, old-fashioned dresses in every color. On the other side, the wall was nothing but mirrors, with another wooden door in the middle, looking like it was standing there alone.
         “Through there is your bathroom.”
         I walked further in, and looked at the clothes on the racks more carefully.
         I turned back towards him.
         “There are only dresses.”
         “And…?” He sounded puzzled.
         “There are no pants, no normal clothes!”
         He chuckled, not in a very reassuring way.
         “You won’t be wearing any “normal clothes” here, these are normal clothes.”
         “Where is here?”
         The light that had been building in his eyes as he smiled disappeared.
         “Well get around to that later. I suggest that you change for dinner tonight, and there I will answer all of your questions within reason.
         “Unless, of course,” he smirked, “you would rather wear you pajamas.”
         I looked down, and then blushed. I was still wearing my pajamas from last night, a black tank top and blue and red checkered shorts. They were fine for sleeping in bed alone, but certainly not to wear around a guy.
         “Okay,” I exhaled awkwardly.
He walked out of the room and I followed, shutting the door behind me.
         “I will leave you then. I will be back in,” he glanced at his fancy-looking watch, “twenty minutes. In case you were wondering, it’s almost six pm.”
         “What time is it exactly?”
         He smiled for some reason.
         “It is,” he checked again, “five fifty-seven. Until then…”
He walked out, carefully shutting the door behind him.