Happy Monday! I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend and a very happy Easter. Forgive my delay in reading and commenting on your challenge blog posts. I had two papers due this weekend and they took precedence. Hopefully this week won't be as hectic. Thanks so much for reading!
(My theme is an on-going story, each chapter title being a word starting with the day's letter of the alphabet. The word will either be used in the tale itself, or I'll use some form of its definition. Happy reading and thanks for stopping by! ~Jen)
Imogene found herself staring up at a vaulted ceiling that was most definitely not her own. Her body began to thaw and she shook off the feeling that something was crawling under her skin. Just as she was beginning to think she was having a really, really weird dream, two sets of eyes gazed down at her. One set - the blue one - belonged to Val. The other -hazel with flecks of gold- were completely unfamiliar but not necessarily unpleasant.
"Imogene?" Val asked, taking her by the hand and easing her up to sitting. "Are you alright? How do you feel? Are you hungry?"
"Mum, just because you're always hungry, doesn't mean everyone else is."
Val waved this deep voice off with the wave of a hand but Imogene turned to look at whoever had spoken. It was the owner of the hazel eyes.
He smiled, an oddly familiar smile and stuck out one of his hands. "Declan Morningside. I assume you've already met my mother."
Imogene took his hand lightly, a frown forming on her face. "Your mother?" She turned to look at Val who was picking at something on her skirt.
Val smiled -that's why Declan's smile looked familiar- "Yes. My son. I know. I look too young to have a son his age, right?"
Imogene nodded slightly.
"Come on," Declan took both her hands in his and helped her stand up. "There we are. The sofa would be much more comfortable." He led her over to a leather sofa, brass studs outlining its plush form. Imogene sat down and stared at the room around her. It was too much to take in. She'd fallen into some film set, she was sure of it. Val was still wearing her Victorian clothes and Declan -her son!- was wearing what could only be described as the clothes of a well-to-do gentleman from an Oscar Wilde play. He even had a waistcoat with a pocket watch hanging out of one pocket, just like his mother.
Suddenly, to her embarrassment and odd relief, Imogene started to cry. Declan sat on one side of her, Val on the other.
"Would somebody please just tell me what's going on?"
Val and Declan looked at one another and Val nodded. Her son got up and walked across the room, knocked gently on a door and waited. When the door opened, a gentleman walked out and Imogene found herself gaping through her tears. Again, the Wilde-ian costume. Again with the pocket watch. This man, however, was wearing white gloves, had a collar that fastened just below his chin like Dracula might wear. He had pale skin, dark hair, and darker eyes framed by round, wire framed glasses. He looked to be the same age as Val, but whatever age that was, was hard to tell.
"Hello my dear. Imogene is it? A pleasure." He smiled and gave her a slight bow. "My name is Greyson." He pulled a chair over to face the sofa and sat. "Now tell me, what would you like to know first?"
Imogene sniffed. Her mind raced through clouded questions. Declan had returned to her left side and Val was polishing a pair of spectacles to her right. Imogene, hands trembling, looked up at Greyson and in a whisper asked. "Am I dead?"
With a smile Greyson answered, "Oh no. You're not dead. In fact, you about to discover that you are more alive than you could possibly imagine."
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