When Emily stepped inside the room she couldn't help but gasp. The place was lit by a small light bulb but its luminance was enough to cast a bright glow and that allowed her to marvel at her surroundings. The large bedroom was a sight to behold, with its old and intricate designs that spoke of a time long past. The walls were adorned with ornate wallpaper, featuring a delicate forest pattern that had faded with age. The ceiling was a masterpiece of plasterwork, with intricate designs that seemed to dance in the flickering light bulb. For a moment, Emily felt like banging her head on one of the walls. How could she have judged the workers complacently earlier when they had done such a great job? She mentally cursed.

As her eyes roamed further, she noted that the room was dominated by a large four-poster bed, its carved wooden frame standing tall and imposing against the far wall. The bed was adorned with richly embroidered linens, and the pillows were plump and inviting. To Emily, it felt like an intrusion to even lay on those sheets. So she kept a mental note to remove them and use one of her own.

Still standing by the doorway, Emily continued to let her eyes peruse the room. It was filled with antique furniture, each piece lovingly crafted and adorned with intricate carvings and delicate inlays. A large wardrobe stood in the left corner, its doors closed tightly as if hiding some long-forgotten secret. She wondered where the workers got the items. Had they bought them from an antique shop or were they furniture inside the manor that the workers managed to fix and salvage. She would have to ask Jasper tomorrow, she thought to herself.

As her perusal continued, her eyes rested on a vanity table with a large mirror standing against the left wall near the wardrobe. It made Emily smile. She owned a piece of furniture resembling it. However, her smile faded when she recalled how she sold the thing for a few bucks to buy a six-pack. She had done stupid things, hadn't she? She mused.

Shaking her head she took slow and short steps toward the large bed where her suitcase lay scattered near its wooden foot. It looked like Oliver was in a rush and had thrown them there without a care. But Emily wouldn't complain. She was saved from carrying them herself, was she not?

As she bent down to pick up one of her suitcases the scent of lavender and rose wafted by her nose. Frowning, she looked around and wondered if there was a bouquet inside. But she saw none. Glancing to every corner, still with a curious look on her face she expected to find an incense somewhere that could have caused the scent. But she found none.

The oddity was enough for a heart to skip a beat. She's been having goosebumps since she got to the manor but incorporated it with Oliver's stupidly worded warning earlier and that helped ease her worries. However, she found it difficult to incorporate the flowery scent surrounding her at that moment into what the loud-mouthed said.

"You're scaring yourself for no reason." Emily blurted out loud. She did that to ease the hammering of her heart inside her chest and it worked. Her heartbeat returned to normal and she continued to open her suitcase, ignoring, albeit forced, the scent that seemed to grow stronger by the second.

When she found what she needed. A pair of sleeping garments. Emily headed for the small door in the far right corner of the room. She knew it was the bathroom because a slab of wood was plastered over the door with the words bathroom carved on it.

It took her thirty minutes to finish cleaning herself. Once she got out of the bath, she headed straight for the bed. The mental note to remove the luxurious sheets and use her own was completely forgotten as she collapsed on the bed and dozed off.

***

The curtains rustled gently as a soft breeze blew through the room. Suddenly, a pale, translucent figure materialized from behind the fabric. What it was, even he didn't know. He was a presence so tangible, that one could almost reach out and touch him. But he lingered too much. He bursts and flickers and ultimately dims. He made one believe that he was within their grasp, only to wake up with nothing but ash. His form was barely visible in the dim light. He was hiding, peering out from behind the curtain as if watching. And indeed he was watching. A woman was splayed over its bed, claiming the space as her own.

As the minutes ticked by, he remained motionless, eyes fixed on the bump that was on his bed. The figure's face, though wanting to frown remained expressionless, but there was a sense of sadness and longing in his visage. His eyes were deep and solemn, the gaze unwavering and intense.

With measured fluidity in his stride, the figure walked toward the bed. He had longed to have a woman sleeping on that bed but feared it at the same time.

A rustle of fabric and a soft sigh from the woman had the figure stepping back. But when her eyes remained shut, he inched closer to the bed again. He loomed above her, staring, wondering, and imagining. He raised his hand and gently landed it on the woman's body. Her body tensed. For a moment, the figure thought she was awakened by his action. But when she didn't show any sign of waking up, he gently tugged at the silk fabric that covered her.

Under the moonlight that faintly shone on the bed, the figure was presented with the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on. Her hair was long and dark like the ebony blanket that covered the night sky. Her lashes were long and thick, similar to the ones it had, once upon a time. Her lips were red and full. Her complexion looked luminous under the moonlight. She is beautiful. So beautiful, he mused.

The figure kept his solemn gaze on her, wishing, wondering, and imagining. But when the breeze that often accompanied his presence made itself known, tossing the woman's hair, the figure left its perusal of her and returned to the protective comfort of his curtain. An act that held no merit. Because even as her eyes fluttered open, and were directly facing the figure against the curtain, IT knew that she'd have no glimpse of who or what IT is.

***

Emily felt the slow cascading motion of her blanket. Someone was pulling it off her. Instantly, she opened her eyes. All she saw was a black fabric. A curtain draped over her window. Looking down, her blanket was on her foot, torso, and legs exposed. Someone definitely tugged at her blanket, she mused.

She glanced around the room, eyes searching for any figure that could be the culprit. But she saw none.

Was she dreaming? Emily questioned herself. And amid her musing, a force, a feeling, whatever it was guided her sight back to the black curtain draped on her bedroom window. There was something about it. Stupid as it may sound, she suddenly felt apprehensive about the fabric. But why?

So she kept her eyes on the thing but soon felt rather stupid. What was she doing? She questioned.

Shaking her head, Emily forced herself to forget what transpired. Whatever it was, she resigned herself to believing that it was nothing and perhaps a dream of some sort. Or maybe, she kicked her blanket off her as she slept.

She was in the process of laying back down when again, something in her told her to glance at the curtain again.

So she did.

The air was almost knocked out of her lungs when she saw a figure behind it. Instantly she scrambled to the other side of the bed in an attempt to create distance. Worried that the figure came after her she glanced back at the curtain. A deep frown marred her forehead when the figure she saw there was gone. Panicked, she let her eyes trace the length of her room, sight bouncing from one corner to another. There was nothing.

She felt utterly confused. Her newly awakened mind couldn't process what was happening to her.

"Okay, I have to calm down," Emily murmured.

She kept her eyes fixed on the black curtains. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her from behind the fabric, that something was lurking just out of sight.

Her heart drummed against her chest. Something felt off. She tried to tell herself that it was. nothing, again. But just as the thought entered her head,
the curtains rustled gently, as if stirred by a breeze. But there was no wind, no movement in the air. Her windows were shut!

The woman felt a sense of unease wash over her. She knew that she should look away, run, hide under her covers, or run out of her room. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from the window, from the black curtains that seemed to have gotten a hold of her.

No, it's nothing, Emily assured herself. Self-comforting in hopes to alleviate the unbearable beating of her heart. But when she continued to feel scared, she decided to leave her bed and took a step toward the curtain.

There's nothing there, she told herself as she approached. But she froze when she thought she saw movement behind the curtains, a flicker of movement that was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

The incident had her stepping back.

Who's there? Emily yelled. But no one answered her. Matter of fact, she felt stupid, despite her fear. There was nothing behind the curtain, no figure or anything. There was nothing.

Gathering her courage, she stomped her way toward the window. She reached out a hand as if to pull the curtains aside and see what was behind them.

But at the last moment, she hesitated. Emily couldn't tell why but she felt like whatever was behind the curtains, it was not meant for her eyes. It was something dark and mysterious, something that she was not meant to see. Where those thoughts came from she couldn't surmise, but she listened to them.

With a shiver, she stepped back from the window but kept her eyes fixed on the black curtains. She sat on her bed and just stared until her lids became heavy and sleep claimed her senses.

***

Hiding behind the heavy black curtain, he watched the woman clutch the fabric with fear and uncertainty. His form was barely discernible in the dim light, but his presence was palpable, a chilling and eerie sensation that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He had that effect when people were near him, but the woman appeared to feel him more. She sensed him in a way that others never had before.

As her face came close to the curtain, he smiled. He saw she was beautiful but when the moonlight that seeped from the adjacent window fully illuminated her face, he realized that she was prettier than he first thought.

So pretty, he mused.

She'd be perfect for him. They would look great together, he thought to himself. He was tall and imposing, his broad shoulders and muscled chest hinting at a previous life of physical prowess. His face was handsome, despite its haunted and tortured expression.

Should he reveal himself to her once the curtains open? He questioned. But what if she ran? What if she leaves? So many what if's coursed through his brain. He couldn't decide and the clock was ticking. She was about to part the curtain. He couldn't decide on an answer. But she gave him the answer when her hands froze and then released the curtain and backed away.

She backed away.

He stared at her with a sense of longing and sadness. He was trapped in between worlds and wanted nothing more than to reach out to the world, and her and be seen.

But the expression on her face as she strayed from the curtain sank his heart. She looked scared. He hasn't even shown himself yet and she's already scared.

He supposed he must remain hidden.
To him, there was no harm in being seen, but for her, the moment of realization would be terrifying. His form might scare her away.

They always ran away.

But she seemed different from all those he longed to have. She seemed to sense him even without his volition. Maybe she was the one, he argued.

Yes, she can be the one.

But he must wait. He could only hope that when the time comes, she would sense that he means her no harm. That's if she agrees. If not... No, he wouldn't think about that. A no would be unacceptable.