Distant - Chapter One

        Distant.  Yes, that was it, distant.  Looking out of the window she could see the cold, unwelcoming fog settling down upon the vacant moors. The rain was lashing at the windows, however, one window remained open, and the heavy maroon curtains flapped violently in the crisp yet bitter wind.
        The grand house stood alone, off-set from the small village below in the valley.  The empty house was old, no one had lived there for many years….no one, apart from her.
        Moving from her position at the window, she almost glided to the other side of the room and closed the open window.  Although she could not feel the wind that flowed through the room she knew it was cold, she had not felt…anything, for a very long time.  It did not bother her; she was used to it now. Being alone for so long, she had had time to grow used to what she was.  She had time to grow used to the loneliness and how distant life was becoming.  Walking from the room, she wandered down the gloomy hallway towards the kitchen, passing the dust covered paintings hanging on the damp papered walls.  As she approached the kitchen, she turned to face a large object which was hidden from view by a thick heavy cloth.  She walked closer with small yet confident steps and stopped an inch away from the object. Extending her hand she reached for the cloth, grasped it firmly and in one fluid movement she ripped it from its place.  Standing in front of her was a large, old fashioned mirror; the gilded gold frame that enclosed the mirror was very ornate, the detail was incredible, however it was not the frame she was looking at.
        Anger rushed through her veins and quicker than anyone could blink she had slammed her fist into the mirror causing it to shatter, before she turned and strode into the kitchen.

        The kitchen was a coven of marble: worktops glistened in the moonlight that emitted from a single skylight above two French doors at the far end of the room. She walked to the refrigerator and pulled the door open with more force than was necessary and nearly wrenched the door off its hinges.  She reached in and pulled out a palm-sized bag of deep red liquid.  Closing the fridge door, she walked over to the centre island and perched herself onto one of the stools.
        Why? She thought as she looked at the mirror through the open doors of the kitchen.  You should be used to it by now, Rikala.  Why do you react like that? It’s not your fault. 
        “But it is my fault.” Said Rikala as she ripped a corner off of the small bag and poured the liquid down her throat.

                                                          *

        50 years ago Croft Manor was a thriving place of life.  The substantial gardens were well kept and the many large rooms of the house were brightly decorated with the most expensive furniture that people had to offer. 
        The Croft’s were a wealthy family; they owned most of the land in and around the moors and were well known to almost everyone in the vicinity. 
        Miranda was a slender woman with shoulder length black hair that shimmered in any light.  She was the lady of the house and was married to Victor.  Victor was much like his wife, slender, yet his hair was a rich brown.
        They had three children: Jacob, Drake and Rikala.  All of them like their parents, slim built.  Jacob, the eldest, had black hair like his mother and styled short and cropped. Drake like his father had brown hair, however, Rikala the youngest of the Croft family was different.  Her hair was a silvery blonde; it seemed electric and shimmered in the light.
        All of them had very fair skin but in spite of that Rikala’s seemed almost translucent.  Miranda and Victor loved all of their children and always did what was best for them, however, some of the villagers disagreed with how they treated Rikala.

        Rikala was unusual, anyone could see that but to keep her locked up was barbaric.  The Crofts hated different and their daughter was different; they kept her hidden away in the manor, insisting that it was for her own good but no one really knew for sure if it was.
        Rikala was often told that she was 'unique', yet despite that she always felt like an outsider within the family.  She would 'sense' things before they actually happened, and once when she was really angry all of her mothers plants in the greenroom where killed.  She didn't need to be lied to she knew she stood out.

        It was a cool November night; the stars were shining brighter than they had in many years.  The wind was crisp and fog was settling around the manor.  Rikala sat in the kitchen, she was not allowed outside during the day but at night she had the full confines of the manor. Suddenly the kitchen doors burst open into the room letting the wind whistle through the room; odd when the wind wasn't that strong.  Shivering she stood and turned, running over to the doors and pushing them shut.  Rikala stood at the windows and gazed upon the small village below, how she longed to go down, to meet the people, to smell the freshly baked bread, to explore the many shops…but it was never to be.  Just then she felt an icy hand touch her shoulder, she tensed and flung herself round to face the intruder…but nobody was there.
        You're imagining things Rikala, she thought to herself. She made her way through the kitchen doors into the hallway, and paused opposite a large ornate mirror.  Staring at her reflection, her gaze was suddenly distracted by something else, something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end; although she didn't know why.  The door swung open; but no one was there. The wind can't be that strong!  Rikala gasped. She was glued to the spot, she wanted to turn round but her feet betrayed her, her whole body betrayed her.
        Everything seemed quieter than usual, but then she saw the chair she had been sitting at only a few minutes ago slide back under the table.  Whatever it was was moving towards her.  Move she thought, for god’s sake, MOVE! But before she could find her feet the icy hand she had felt earlier griped her shoulder once again.  This time when she turned she saw a figure, a male to be accurate; his complexion was pale, paler then her own and his hair was pure black.
        “What a beautiful woman you are.  Such a shame that you must stay alone in this lovely home.”
        “I am not alone. My parents and my brothers are upstairs.” Said Rikala with a bit more anger than she thought she had.
        “Such an angry tone, but…yes, it is fear that drives you.”
        “Let go of me!” she spat.
        The man let go almost immediately.
        “Why…why, could I not see you in the mirror?” asked Rikala, her fear kicking in. “Who are you?”
        The man looked at the mirror behind Rikala before answering her.
        “My name is Vladimir. And as to why you could not see me….I do not know.”
        Rikala didn’t know what to do, he looked no older then her; perhaps two years older, that would make him 22.  She had a strange feeling towards him, a feeling that you could only feel after knowing someone for a few years….she loved him.  How, how could I have feelings for someone who has broken into my home and of whom I have never met. But she did, she did love him and looking into his eyes she could tell that he knew she loved him.
        Vladimir stepped closer to her and gazed into her bright blue eyes; he placed a hand on her back and pulled her closer.  It seemed to last for an eternity before he kissed her; it was passionate and caused a shiver to travel down her spine.  The embrace had lasted for a few minutes but she knew then that the feelings she felt were true; she did truly love him.
        “Wow.” She sighed
        Vladimir smiled at her remark and brought her closer to his body.  She could feel the coldness of his skin through his clothes yet she did not care, she was with him and she didn’t want it to end.
        “I must leave.” He said suddenly, breaking the silence.
        “No.  Don’t go, stay.”
        “I must, but I will come back tomorrow night.”
        Vladimir removed her from his grasp and almost glided back outside via the kitchen doors, closing them as he left.