I tapped the mahogany table causing silverware to rattle slightly, and procured the attention of my husband Lord Michael Tiberius Hale. Our marriage had been arranged since we were children, orchestrated by our parents who were old friends. During childhood we'd lived the span of a country apart and our conflicting school and social schedules didn't allow for extended travel. Michael and I had met in person three years ago. Before and afterwards we'd written emails to connect us.  

    We'd only been married a few months and so far I'd failed to startle him. He always seemed to know the exact second someone entered a room. I'd made it a game for myself and had lost each time. He knew of my game and with each failure my penalty was a kiss. Perhaps that was what made him extra alert. He was a man of few words in public but despite that he didn't lack for friends. Michael was blessed with beauty that naturally endeared people to him. Lord Hale was tall, dark haired (which I preferred in men), a leanly muscled figure, full lips, and kind eyes; a very handsome man. 

    Besides physical loveliness Michael also had a fair and kind manner. He was the perfect husband in all things. Perhaps I was somewhat biased but the lingering gazes of our female staff seemed to validate my opinion.

    Looking up he smiled and signed 'good morning, my darling.' I bent to connect our lips and provide him with his winnings. We broke apart only when our breakfast was brought in, my cheeks bright red at having been caught and a smirk on his face. As I sat to pour my coffee my eyes drew on a familiar sight. Alongside his tea lay a book bound in faded leather and written in a language I didn't know. Michael's business often took him abroad and he was in the habit of collecting artifacts during his travels. I wasn't sure how long the book had been in his possession. At least three years. I remember watching him study it in my father's parlor the night after our first meeting. 

    'I heard it again last night,' I told him.

    He put down his fork to sign back to me. 'It's nothing to worry about. The renovation will be finished in another week.'

    A fire destroyed much of his home a month before we'd returned from our honeymoon. No one had been hurt, thankfully. Fire Marshal Blake ruled that it wasn't arson. The blaze started in or close to the attic, but no definitive cause was found and so it was declared an accident. Michael used this opportunity to make improvements to the centuries old structure. 

    At the moment half of the west wing was off limits. This was the hall that our bedroom was in so we'd taken a smaller room closer to the attic. I couldn't wait for the work to be finished. Each night I was awakened by what sounded like scratching and crying from the attic. At first I believed I was imagining it or maybe it was one of the servants.

    But there was no reason for anyone to be in the attic. In fact it was the one part of the house that Michael forbade anyone to enter. He was very strict about it. He stored precious, valuable, fragile, and priceless artifacts there before moving them to museums or personal warehouses. I too was not to enter there. On more than one occasion I'd woken Michael and he also heard the sounds. He'd disappear for half an hour and then return placing the golden key back into his desk and claim it was nothing. 

    'I will be leaving today. Only a short trip. I'll be back in three days.'

    'The Halloween Party?' I asked.

    'Share the rest of the details with Mr. Thomasin. He's supervised the madness since I was a boy.'

    Every year his family threw a marvelous party on Halloween and Michael had decided to carry on the tradition when he came into inheritance. His sister would journey down from the country to attend and more than half the local community would show as well.

    I rolled my eyes. 'He's terrible with sign language.'

    Michael smiled at me.. 'Have compassion. Not everyone spends years mastering it for their love.'

The fact that I was mute had many a gossip speculating that our marriage would never take place. But here we were. I remember the first time I'd met Michael he signed instead of spoke, not even my close friends had bothered to learn. I was so touched that tears filled my eyes and from that moment onwards I loved him dearly.  

🎃

    It was over. I'd shown Isabella, Michael's sister, to her rooms then collapsed on my bed alone. Michael called me hours ago to say that his train was delayed and he wouldn't be back in time. My legs were shaky from dancing and felt as if they wouldn't move for years. I'd gone through the whole party as sole hostess, the dinner, games, handing out candy to kids that came to the door, all fell on me to present. A tired but satisfied smile inched across my face. Never had I ever done something so ambitious and been successful. I was proud and so worn out I fell asleep in my costume.    

    It was still dark when a loud wail yanked me from sleep. In haste I tumbled from bed a confused tangle of silk. Another scream tore through the night. Moonlight flittered through the curtains causing shadows to dance about the room. The screams turned into a loud sobbing that froze my blood and stilled my heart. It was coming from the attic.

    Hands shaking, I gathered my voluminous skirts. My breath rose in swirling white curls. Why was it so cold? Trembling I rushed to Michael's side of the room and took the golden key from its hook, and walked towards the attic. The sobbing was louder now. Could no one else hear this? Surely if they did they'd would be at my door. But except for crying the house was silent.

    Clutching the key in one hand, flashlight in the other, I raced to the attic as fast as possible in ten pounds of dress and one corset. Ivory colored silk dragging across the wooden floor boards was drowned out by the pounding of my heart, every second, every footstep, was taking me closer to the door. It was a man crying, the sobs were that clear now.  Words were mixed into his snivels, words that were not any of the four languages I knew.

    I pounded the door to let whoever it was know I was coming in. The crying stopped and I was left in silence. It was colder here. So cold that touching the door burned. I looked back down the hall but no one else was coming. It took all my strength to push the door open. A layer of snow was on the floor and more gently falling but I didn't notice it right away. The cold seemed to burn my lungs as I stood in the doorway. Weak moonlight shone through a boarded window.

    Casting light around the room revealed a figure hunched over in the corner. Cautiously I moved in and the wood creaked loudly under foot. The man whipped around and if it had been possible a terrifying scream would've erupted from my throat. He was a monster, a daemon, a figure from the realm of nightmares or hell. It lunged at me, foam dripping from a row of sharp teeth aimed for my neck. Dropping the flashlight I fell and scrambled away, wet and cold soaking through layers of silk dress, petticoats, and stockings. The creature approached, chains scraping along the floor echoing in my ears. It came only so far before being thrown back by an invisible force.   

    "What are you doing here," Michael's voice seemed too loud. He stood in the entryway, blue light from a candle in hand illuminating his face. No it wasn't a candle. The flame was hovering directly above his palm with no fuel feeding it. With a graceful move of his wrist the flame shot out of hand and into the fireplace. Fresh fear surged in me.  

    My body wouldn't move. Michael stepped into the moonlight and his face changed. No flesh, just bone and sinew. He was a sorcerer. Magic had been outlawed by the kingdom since the War of Nineteen eighty-two nearly a century ago. It was unnatural, evil, and lead only to death, both of the practitioners and those around them.

    "Did he touch you," Michael asked tension in his voice, the voice I so loved that came from the lipless skull that'd once been my husband. He repeated his question more harshly and took a step toward me. I recoiled. Michael then understood it was him I feared in this moment.

    He pressed a gloved hand to the bone of his face, a few whispered words later, and the flesh reappeared. He was my Michael once again. Without word he offered me a hand and numbly I took it.

    "I will not harm you, my darling," he took a step back and a frantic

    Isabella rushed into the room a pale blue flame dancing above her palm. "Michael! What's going on? I thought he was past this."

    "Raul's disease is progressing rapidly. Since he set the fire there's little I can do."

    "We need to figure out something. Mother and father are asking questions. Questions I can't answer! It's only a matter of time before they realize—"

    Escape. I had to escape and gather myself away from this unholy place. Slowly I stood as not to draw their eyes. The siblings were arguing back and forth so heatedly that they gave no mind to me. Inch by excruciating inch I shuffled to the door.   

    I felt his breath before his hands. Where he touched me pain spread across my skin. A foul smell flooded my nostrils. I fought, kicking and clawing but it did no good as Raul's grip was iron. 

    "Michael!" Isabella grabbed the front of my dress and yanked while red sparks flew toward my captor. It, Raul howled in rage and his hold loosened slightly.   

    "Let her go," Michael screamed. Isabella was able to pull me from him but the pain didn't stop. My legs gave way. Isabella's arms lowered me to the floor. Michael rushed to my side sometime later. Agony pulsed and throbbed throughout my body. Michael appeared in my vision but he was blurred by tears, his and mine. My hand kept signing 'Michael, Michael, help me.'

    But in the end there was nothing either Hale could do. Now he and I, Raul, are locked in the attic together. Michael comes to visit me often. Still I love him and now hate him also. My fear of his sorcery is gone. He tells me stories of his people and creates gifts of exotic flowers. He speaks to me gently, making promise after promise, which fails when he tries to set me free from this nightmare. The snow still falls, a canopy Michael erected over me keeps me safe from it, blankets he puts over me helps cut some of the cold, though I still feel its chill. I watch as shadows lengthen and shorten throughout the day, Raul snarls, and hisses, spews gibberish, and breaks out into mad laughter. I am laid on a bed of soft pillows, eyes ever open, and staring at the monster that made me this way. Stone, yet still flesh, unable to move, unable to breathe, silent, mute, my soul crying out for freedom that still has not come, even though Michael now has a cane, grey hair, and is nearly blind.