Anna Alexander: queen of fire

On that day, curiosity completely consumed me. After glancing once more at the mysterious facade, I leaned closer to the crack between the green ivy bushes. The miracle I beheld pierced me like a sudden bolt of lightning.

In the courtyard, opposite the ivy-covered veranda, stood an old, long-forgotten fountain. But now, bathed in sunlight, it seemed to awaken, its silent play appearing like magic. It seemed as if time had turned back, and the fleeting life had returned to this old house…

The fountain, which seemed to have fallen forever asleep, suddenly awakened, scattering a kaleidoscope of rainbow splashes in the courtyard. In the sunlight, the streams sparkled and shimmered, sketching ephemeral otherworldly patterns in the air. All worries and anxieties faded away as if they had never existed. There could be no talk of matters – this extravaganza of colors and light transported one to another reality. Along the old fence, as if echoing the miracle, roses bloomed. Delicate buds released an intoxicating fragrance that begged to be inhaled deeply. And I knew, I felt with all my heart – this is not a dream.

Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, a memory of the squirrel pierced through! Doubts retreated, giving way to an exhilarating premonition: such coincidences are not accidental!

– But how could the roses bloom and the fountain come to life? After all, the house has long been abandoned… – this question tormented my consciousness, finding no answer.

I recoiled from the fence as if struck by an invisible force, and was already about to run when my name, like a beast breaking free from its chain, roared in the silence. The echo carried it over the rooftops of the village, causing me to freeze. I turned around, my heart pounding in my chest like a trapped bird. There was not a soul around. Only an empty street, bathed in sunlight, and the whisper of the wind in the branches of an old apple tree nearby. I looked around again, confirming my solitude.

Only in the distance could I see a group of playing children, a pack of dogs, a girl with a pile of notebooks in her hands, and several men animatedly arguing about something. But I didn’t notice anyone who could call me by name. A feeling that I had seen this before suddenly enveloped me, the world swam before my eyes, and I felt the ground slipping away from under my feet.

I woke up at home, in my bed. My parents stood in front of me with faces showing clear displeasure. I raised my hands to look at my numb fingers and noticed how pale they had become, just like my face. A carousel of thoughts spun in my head.

The first thing that flashed in my memory was the sight of a house, a fountain drowning in roses. I began to doubt whether it had been just a dream, but then, like an anchor pulling me back to reality, the image of a little squirrel appeared. The silence, which seemed to last an eternity, was broken by my father’s voice, pulling me out of my stupor.

– What were you doing at Leon’s house? – he asked, not hiding his painful curiosity about that place and my presence near the house.

– Nothing. I was on my way to school, and I woke up here. What happened? – I mumbled indistinctly.

The parents exchanged glances, and their whispering started again, but the words, like ghosts, dissolved into the buzz that rose in my head. How strange: usually their voices rang with crystal clarity when they addressed me, but now it felt as if my ears were filled with a viscosity that muffled the world.

– You tell us what happened! – my father insisted, burning me with his gaze.

“What’s wrong with looking at the house I liked? No one got hurt!” – a desperate justification flickered in my mind.

– I was walking to school, as usual, past that house. And as soon as I took a few steps, I was called by name. I turned around – there was no one around, not a single familiar face… and then, it was like emptiness, and now I’ve come to! – Anna blurted out, trying to piece together the fragments of remembrance into a coherent picture.

The parents exchanged glances again, as if passing on the baton of unspoken words. An awkward silence tightened the room, and I found it hard to breathe – the air seemed to thicken. A volcano was awakening inside me, bubbling with righteous fury. My face burned, as if scorched by flames, and my parents’ words reached me in fragments, losing clarity amidst this internal fire. To my surprise, they no longer scolded me. They, immersed in a silent argument, expressing their disagreement through gestures and undertones, noticed my sleepy face and hurried out into the corridor, taking with them a tangle of unresolved contradictions to continue their silent dialogue without disturbing the fragile silence of my sleep.

“What is it that I should hear?” – this question echoed in my mind.

Suddenly leaping up, as if jolted, I staggered to my desk and, stopping as if rooted to the spot, closed my eyes. I heard my name again, like the whisper of the wind in an empty room. Deciding that this was the work of my father, I remained silent, biting my lip, but a moment later the voice repeated itself more insistently and closer.

– What is going on! – I couldn’t take it anymore, and my voice trembled.

Taking a step toward the door, I felt as if I was descending into a dream as I made my way to the hall, to the first floor. Our house, though not large, comfortably sprawled over two stories: four cozy little rooms, a spacious hall, a kitchen, bathrooms that looked like two drops of water identical to each other, a basement holding the smell of damp mold, and a spacious library where the shadows of old stories lived. Setting my foot on the last step, I inadvertently overheard fragments of my parents’ conversation. They were whispering about some miracle that had almost burned their lives to the ground, and about the need to put a stop to it before it was too late. Their words, like shards of glass, pierced the silence of the house.

– See, I warned you! – said my father in a commanding tone.

My mother wanted to say something, but my father interrupted her with his response:

– And what if she disappeared or went missing? And still, in the evening, we need to thank the Ambassador for his kindness. After all, someone might have noticed her, especially…!

– Alright, I understand everything. We’ll figure it out in the evening! There are countless candidates for our place. We need to be ready for anything, especially for the fact that Anna is no longer a child, and we can’t forbid her to walk that path. She is a smart teenager and might suspect everything. And then everything will go wrong! – the mother said with frustration.

The father rolled his eyes strangely, and the chair creaked pitifully as he struggled to detach his leaden body from it. It was as if some invisible force was pulling him somewhere, as if the breath of another presence was scorching his back. He thought he could hear them eavesdropping, that a web of foreign gazes was enveloping the room. Without saying a word, just nervously nodding, he signaled to his mother, and they, like conspirators, peeked into the hallway.

– I feel like someone is watching us! – whispered Herman, and a shadow of fear passed over his face, distorting his features.

The thought that their secret might be revealed after that unfortunate incident with Anna outside Lion’s house tormented him. The man was suffocated by this uncertainty, this feeling of being cornered. His face changed like a landscape before an approaching storm – from anxious confusion to animal rage, until Sania, alarmed by his expression, snapped him back to reality.

– What’s wrong with you!? Anna is home, I checked. We have nothing to fear anymore. Our home is protected, you set it up that day when we moved here, remember? – the woman asked with hope.

Herman felt that he had done the right thing, and the gloom of doubt slowly dissipated in his mind. He realized that fear could destroy his life, and to avoid bringing disaster upon himself, he vowed to control his fury.

But they were deeply mistaken, for I was right there, an invisible witness. As if waking from a nightmare, I quickly stepped away from the hallway, swept up by a whirlwind of sudden insight and horror. In the room, Sania saw me “sleeping “… but how could this happen, this mystery will be revealed!

Chapter 5.

The strange abode

– What unimaginable things are happening around?! Who are they so afraid of, whom do they crawl in silent horror before? And why does the house of the Lions, forgotten and abandoned by all, evoke such primal fear in them? – thoughts swirled in my head like autumn leaves, driven by a relentless wind.

The rustle of footsteps faded, and ominous silence reigned. Not a single sound, no timid chirping of birds, no quarrelsome whispering of old women, no ringing laughter of children, only a crushing, all-consuming silence, like a shroud thrown over the world.

The opportunity to go down to the first floor and see if my parents had taken even a single step toward reconciliation or continued to maintain their sullen silence, huffing at each other, never presented itself.

Time dragged on torturously slowly, like a spring, and no one was in a hurry to call me. The thought that I was losing my mind terrified me to the point of shivering, but the gentle image of a squirrel, nestled in the cozy hollow of an old tree, perhaps remembering me as well, momentarily restored my lost mental balance.

“Whose voice is that? Who does it belong to? What is happening here? And why does it seem like everyone around is possessed by malice and suspicion?” – I was tormented, like a bird caught in nets.

Deep in my soul, like a poisonous flower, bloomed a desperate yearning for immediate answers; otherwise, madness seemed the only escape. After all, dragging on an existence in loneliness, tormented by uncertainty, had become unbearable torture.

Spring had taken its rightful place, pouring warmth like golden nectar over the world. An invisible flock of birds circled in the sky, and a light breeze, like a silk scarf, caressed my cheeks. Breathing became easier, and I felt a certain unity with nature awakening from its winter slumber with indomitable strength.

But the events of recent days poisoned everything around, granting not a drop of peace. Life itself demanded change, as if it were extremely necessary. At the slightest foreign sound, goosebumps ran down my skin, and an obsessive desire to walk past the Lion’s house had entrenched itself in my consciousness, like Prometheus, forever chained to the rock of painful memories. Only the realization of the imminent possibility of fulfilling this desire brought a weak consolation.

You can walk past the house countless times, but entering inside felt like a task that seemed almost impossible.

That day turned out to be painfully dreary. The sun, like a merciless executioner, blazed relentlessly, and the bustle of Sunday radiated unbearable indifference. In my head, an insatiable yearning beat to touch upon events capable of providing a breath of fresh air.

Unsteadily stepping onto the first step, I sat down beside a small anthill, where tiny workers, like brave warriors, fought for crumbs of bread. My breath was ragged, thoughts, like sharp shards of glass, tormented and pierced me from the inside, leaving bleeding wounds. My heart raced wildly, trying to break free. At that moment, my mother came out of the house and invited me to the table. I jumped up so abruptly that a shadow of surprise flashed across her face.

– One must pay for everything new with a loss! – Sania kept saying, as if it were a prophecy.

It seemed that the reckoning would touch the dearest – our loved ones. An ominous premonition hung in the air like heavy lead, and inevitability loomed like a storm cloud.

We entered the house, enveloped in a dense cloud of sandalwood and the scent of sunny oranges. Everyone took their place in an unspoken ritual: my father – facing the rising sun, my mother – to the right, like his reflection, me – to the left, a shadow. The silence at the table weighed heavily with its unusual density. The lunch seemed frozen in time.

Our walls have never known such silence. Usually, stories from my father would scatter like sparks of laughter, my mother would catch them, and dinner would turn into a small celebration. But now – there was no sound, no questions, only a deafening silence.

– Anna, pass the salt, – my mother’s voice sounded unexpectedly, like a distant echo.

Each word resonated with a hollow emptiness. Time slipped through my fingers like quicksand.

“Why are they silent? Why only twelve hours?” – feverishly throbbed in my head.

Exactly at noon, the old clock struck its weary chime. I lifted my gaze, and a vague premonition took shape into a chilling understanding: my mind, like a beast unleashed, was racing ahead of events, allowing me to see the future in fleeting fragments. A gentle spring breeze intruded boldly through the open window. The old ceiling fan, long overdue for repair, began to hum, and the curtain, brushing against my cheek with its cold silk, whispered my name again. I locked eyes with my parents. In their placid faces, chewing in thoughtful silence, there was a sense of detachment. The voice in my head grew louder, more insistent.

“If I don’t make it into that house, I’m going to lose my mind…” – this thought throbbed in my head insistently, like a feverish pulse.

– Anna, can you even hear me?! – my mother’s voice cut through the silence, full of irritation and… something else, elusive and frightening.

I lifted my eyes, and my appetite immediately evaporated, as if it had never existed, and I reluctantly handed her the salt shaker.

The voice… This voice beckoned, it was more important than anything in the world, like the call of a distant star. I was irresistibly drawn to leave the house, where the air grew heavier and more oppressive with each passing day. After hastily swallowing my lunch,

I quickly tidied up and, after begging my father for permission to step out under the pretense of school activities (even though all my thoughts were far from studying), I began to get ready. My hands moved with unimaginable speed, as if there were suddenly twice as many of them, a pair on each side. In the blink of an eye, everything was ready. It seems that these extra hands are just a product of my heated imagination, but no, they were really there, only my parents for some reason did not see them.

I felt born with these invisible helpers, and they did not burden me in the least. Now, in anticipation of a meeting soon, I not only wanted to have many hands, but also to fulfill my most cherished desire.

– Anna, how did you manage so quickly? – mom asked suddenly, her eyes full of suspicion. – Could it be that someone helped, and you are silent?

I looked at her in surprise and excitement, and she, seemingly amused by my reaction, laughed loudly.

– No, mom, no one helped me! – I did everything myself! I blurted out, dreaming of slipping out of the door as soon as possible. But then I heard my name again.

– I feel like you’ve got a second pair of hands! – Sania said suddenly.

I froze, not knowing what to say to her words, and why right now, at the most inopportune moment, I was called out again.

– No, mother, you think so! I don’t have any extra hands, it’s all your fantasies! – I tried to convince her.

She laughed again, but this time her laughter sounded eerie, unnatural. I had never heard such laughter from her before. For a moment, a shiver ran through me: could this be some sort of test, or had my fears found a voice? Why did everything mix together at one point?

– Watch yourself, don’t come near that house again, or else… well, you know! – her warning sounded just as I was standing on the doorstep.

I pretended to understand the hint, but deep down I knew: that was where my only road lay.

The thought that I was going to that house again pierced through me later. A slight chill ran down my skin, and inside, an inexplicable, almost mad warmth spread. Slipping out of the house after my father nodded affirmatively, busy with something in the corner – he had always supported my thirst for knowledge – I went out onto the street and only came to my senses near the Lions’s house. It was incomprehensible, but my legs had brought me here on their own. Looking up, I froze, recognizing the familiar outlines of the house and the ivy-covered facade.

“How did I end up here? Does this house possess some kind of magic that draws me in for no apparent reason? Perhaps I have offended the owners in some way, or, on the contrary, an extraordinary surprise awaits me?” – this thought brought a quiet, nervous laugh to my lips.

Stopping, I took a breath and closed my eyes, trying to anticipate the new sensations that awaited me beyond these walls, and I swayed slightly. Leaning against the rough wall, I suddenly felt something crawling on me. Opening my eyes wide, I froze in astonishment.

In some incomprehensible way, I found myself in the courtyard. Quirky shadows, like a veil, enveloped me from head to toe. Like a delicate flower, I perched on the edge of the fountain, its streams shimmering in the sunlight, reflecting countless soft, non-blinding shades. Peering deeper, I noticed exquisite, pale blue Moroccan paintings on its walls. The bottom was strewn with large crystals, their light sparkling and dancing in the sunbeams filtering through the water.

I scooped up a handful of cool water. It seemed I could sit there forever if it weren’t for someone’s shadow falling over me. Startled by the thought that someone else was in this old house, I turned slowly.

The ivy stretched its tendrils of juicy green towards me, adorned with countless tiny buds. I had never seen blooming ivy before. The pale pink flowers exuded a divine fragrance, overshadowing even the scent of roses. But what struck me the most was that the ivy seemed alive, and through its leaves, I could feel someone’s breath. The breath of a close, almost dear person.

I rose slowly, as if an orchestra was about to play and I was about to spin in a ballet spectacle. The ivy, as if alive, pulled me into its green embrace, and I was already drowning in the softness of the grass and the fragrance of flowers. We twirled in a silent, magical dance, and no dark thought about the house clouded my mind.

Intoxicated by the scents, the tenderness of the rustling leaves, and the mysterious aura of this place, I forgot everything in the world. An irresistible desire to stay here, in this beautiful yet cursed corner for someone, made me only secretly cast thoughts aside towards my parental home…

We were still swaying to the rhythm of the improvised melody. For a minute, I floated in this wonderful dance, when suddenly the music stopped sharply, as if the thread had been severed. I lost my balance, barely touching my knees to the marble floor of the fountain, so beautiful that my gaze involuntarily slipped into its depths. In it, like a waking volcano, the water bubbled. Horror gripped me as this strange scene unfolded before me.

In the very next moment, huge bubbles began to rise from the bottom, nearly the size of the fountain itself. In an instant, the water jet that had been shooting up disappeared. The bubbles, reaching the edge, formed a transparent dome. Enchanted, I leaned down to see what was hidden at the bottom, what the limits of this water miracle were. And suddenly, unexpectedly for myself, I touched the multilayered, elastic film of water.

The sky was overcast with clouds, and a silhouette appeared at the main entrance of the house. In the distance, there was the figure of a man of medium height, leaning on a cane. Standing upright, the stranger quickly approached me, extended his hand, and looked at me with genuine kindness. As if enchanted, I accepted his help. In the same second, the first drops of rain touched the ground, and the man, with an air of feigned politeness, gestured for me to enter the house, but not through the front door, as would be expected for a guest, but through a side entrance, as if secretly. I simply nodded in silence, and a strained smile involuntarily touched my lips, reflecting my confusion.

– Perhaps you are frightened, Miss Anna? – the stranger asked.

I lowered my gaze. Underfoot, like a disobedient stream, the purest water playfully babbled, rushing somewhere backward. In this house, it seemed that even the laws of nature had decided to turn upside down.

– Not at all! – I answered, trying to keep my voice from betraying the tremor that engulfed my entire body.

The dazzling smile of the man split his face as he suggested standing on the edge of the fountain. Like a shadow, he instantly appeared beside me, gripping my fingers tightly and whispering, inviting me to jump along with the current.

“This is some absurd, terrifying joke, and, perhaps, very soon I will have nothing to breathe…” – flashed through my mind.

Accepting the inevitable embrace of the icy water, I suddenly saw the stranger, illuminated by an otherworldly smile, welcoming me in a huge, light-filled hall.

My heart raced wildly, and a wave of indescribable feelings overwhelmed me. My eyes widened in astonishment, and as I pinched myself on the arm, I desperately tried to understand: is this reality or a whimsical dream? When the storm of emotions subsided, I was amazed to discover that there wasn’t a single drop on me! Remarkably, this incredible journey with the stranger evoked not a drop of regret. It seemed completely natural to madly leap into the fountain and remain utterly dry!

Taking a deep breath, I moved through the dimness of the hall towards the silhouette that seemed to hover just within reach. But with each step, echoing in the silence, it eluded me like a mirage woven from shadows.

My tongue felt as if it were frozen to the roof of my mouth, shackled by icy silence.

– It’s just an illusion created by the fall! Soon everything will disperse, don’t be afraid, – a whispering male voice sounded.

I didn’t see his lips move, but each word resonated clearly, like a crystal bell in the stillness.

At that moment, a cascade of dazzling lights exploded, causing my eyes to freeze in astonishment.

Thousands of sparks covered the ceiling of the huge hall, which, despite everything, seemed painfully familiar. The marble floor of marsala color and white stone was like the canvas of a genius artist – such beauty cannot be found even in the most exquisite paintings! In its mirrored surface, artificial light played, absorbing the entire palette of colors and creating strange, delightful patterns.

Only later did I realize that it was not lamps, but myriads of candles, elegantly nestled in the crystal embrace of candle holders, reaching upwards. Their warm glow enveloped me, giving rise to a vague premonition of awakening. But awakening did not come. After all, one cannot wake up from something that has long become a part of you.

In the very heart of the hall, a golden lotus bloomed on the floor, as if woven from sunlight. Enchanted, I slowly approached to examine this celestial magnificence. Milk-white granite columns, like guardians of eternity, lined the perimeter, crowned with gilded candelabra, where the flickering flames of living candles danced. Beneath the high ceiling, like a heavenly vault, an ancient mosaic sprawled, where angels with harps poured forth their divine music. Their delicate shimmering seemed to fill the hall with magic and tranquility. The gaze was lost in the labyrinth of arches adorned with the finest gold leaf, playing in the rays of the rising sun, like precious gemstones.

Ahead of me, like a portal to another world, loomed an enormous stained-glass window in the shape of a semi-arch, shrouded in heavy emerald-green velvet embroidered with silver threads, like a frosty pattern.

“I feel like I’ve stepped into a fairy-tale castle where a beautiful prince must surely live!” – flashed through my mind.

Several wrought-iron chairs with seats of scarlet silk, softly sinking into downy softness (indeed downy, as I involuntarily sneezed), were arranged near the black piano. It seemed that the instrument should be covered with a thick layer of the dust of oblivion, but, to my amazement, its lacquered surface shone with cleanliness, as if it had just been touched by the hands of someone who kept their home tidy.