Free The Eye of the Beholder by Elizabeth Darcy Page A

do not think I drew breath for a full minute thereafter. It was some time before I was able to move again.
    In the gloom of the night, it was impossible to judge the castle's exact size, but I knew that it was the most enormous structure I had ever seen. I had the unsettling impression that it continued on and on infinitely, and I shook my weary head to clear my irrational thoughts. I knew where to go instinctively, and I did not question the sensation as I allowed my feet to carry me to a massive studded oak door that was nestled into a recess in one of the walls.
    The inside of the castle was as black as pitch, with only a single, flickering candle sputtering in the distance. I turned toward this source of light, and felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I realized it was moving. Hesitating for a second, I tried to decide whether I should follow it. What if the beast was carrying it? However, the thought of standing alone in the inky darkness of the castle was far more terrifying to me than the thought of following that light. By the time my decision was made, the light was fading and I had to run to pursue it.
    In spite of my rapid pace, I was unable to catch up with the source of the light. I ran for what seemed like forever, until the light stopped moving. Blood roared in my ears as I made my way cautiously forward, holding my breath. My eyes fell on a silver candlestick in a recess in the gray stone wall, just outside of an enormous white door. I cast a quick glance around me, but there was no one to be seen.
    I turned my attention to the door, staring at it apprehensively as my mind raced with thoughts of what might lay behind it. Perhaps it was the beast, crouched in wait, prepared to set upon me the moment I stepped through the door. Would he harm me? What might he say to me, if he did say anything at all? Or perhaps the door led to a prison cell, in which I might be held until I perished. Looking about me, I did not think that it could be a cell. I knew very little about castles, but what little I did know told me that prisoners were usually held in dungeons or towers. The corridor in which I stood was above ground and could not belong to a tower, for I had only climbed one massive flight of stairs in order to reach it.
    At last, I decided that allowing my mind to imagine any manner of horrors was not likely to improve my current situation and so I reached out, my hand shaking, and knocked hesitantly upon the door. There was no response, and I paused for a short moment before taking a deep breath and seizing the silver door handle.
    The chamber beyond the door was nothing like I had imagined. It was well-lit, though the candlelight was subdued enough not to dazzle my eyes. A brisk fire was burning in the enormous fireplace, and its heat was extremely welcome after my long, cold walk. I immediately gravitated toward it, holding my hands out to its warmth and allowing my breathing to slow to a normal pace before I turned to study the rest of the chamber.
    My uninterested eyes took in the many features as I wandered through my chambers, though none of them really registered with my fatigued mind. The only objects that caught my attention were the windows and the enormous, gilt-framed looking glass that hung in my dressing chamber. As I had passed through the castle, its decrepit state had not escaped my notice and the grimy, dingy windows in particular had caught my eye, which is why the glass in my chamber struck me as so unusual. The windows and the looking glass were immaculately clean and had been polished until they were crystal clear.
    Returning to the sleeping chamber, I had the sense that something was amiss. It had been decorated in hues of lavender, spring green, and a calming blue, but somehow the atmosphere was still oppressive; the clean white walls seemed cold and stark, the colorful tapestries and paintings garish by comparison. The highly detailed embroidered curtains that hung on the bed