Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Europe (excluding the United Kingdom) (02/19/09)
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TITLE: Presence of the Past | Previous Challenge Entry
By Janeil Harricharan
02/26/09 -
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“Well, don’t you like art?” Elizabeth asked, looking at him. She was about thirty years of age, and had reddish-brown hair in a bun, wearing a blue buttoned shirt and a long full black skirt.
Neil didn’t answer, looking back out at the large mansion before them. Twenty two years of age and an Indian, he adjusted his glasses and tugged at his black flight jacket. He was sometimes was fascinated with art, emphasis on sometimes. He usually concentrated more on his tasks related to his occupation, namely piloting fighter jets and mobile suits for the Resistance.
He had never been to France. Elizabeth had decided to go visit a friend about problems she had been having at her private museum at a wealthy estate in the French countryside. They had flown in that morning and have been traveling by a chauffeured car for two hours straight.
Elizabeth knocked on the door as an old lady opened it. “Ah, Elizabeth, come in, come in.” She ushered the two of them inside.
Neil was taken aback by colossal interior of the parlor. It was covered in paintings and tapestries, and suits of armor on pedestals along the floor. He stared at the intricate detail of one painting as the woman stepped in front of him.
“I am Marion Lau’ Chauvere,” She introduced herself. “And you are the young man that Elizabeth has spoken so highly of?” Marion was about in her seventies, dressed in a white gown and a green bathroom robe.
“Yeah, that would be me,” Neil shook her hand.
Marion led them through the mansion to one of the far wings. “It started to mysteriously, Elizabeth. First the stealing of the paintings, then the vandalism of the books, then this…”
She opened two large wooden doors that opened into a large study.
Shelves lined the wall in almost every direction, books filling every inch and a fireplace along one wall. A painting lay on a chair of a young woman with blonde hair, in a red dress with a black background. The eyes were painted in bright red, giving it a devilish appearance.
Elizabeth gasped. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Nobody did it,” Marion answered. “The picture changed like this before my very eyes.” She trembled as she spoke the words.
“I’m not sure if I want to get mixed up in something supernatural,” Neil commented. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but that’s just plain creepy.”
“I have been living in this house for three months by myself. I have never touched or done anything out of the ordinary. Something is trying to get to me or say something…”
Just then, there was an eerie wail down the hall from where they came from. Elizabeth gasped and turned around as Marion cried out in French. Neil immediately drew a large pistol from under his jacket and leveled it down the hallway. A suit of armor clattered to the ground as a swishing sound could be heard.
“Something’s here…” Elizabeth looked around her. She caught a glimpse of a shadow disappearing around a bookshelf.
A man stood in the doorway, dressed from the Baroque period in a blue breeches and jacket. He glared at the two women, pointing a fencing sword at them.
“Remove Lisbeth Lau’ Chauvere’s presence from this house!” He demanded. “She is a filthy witch who has disgraced our family!”
“Please do not listen to him!” A young woman burst out from around the corner, looking exactly as the woman in the picture. She knelt down at Marion’s feet. “Save me please!” She begged.
“Silence!” The man looked at Marion. “Do not listen to her, or you will force my hand!” His face twisted into a demented state as Elizabeth fainted to the floor.
Three resounds bangs filled the air, three large brass shells falling to the floor. The man screamed as he vanished. Neil’s pistol smoked and smelled of explosives.
“There’s a good reason I carry a gun that uses ammunition from a .68 caliber anti-aircraft machine gun,” Neil spoke finally. He looked at the woman, pointing his pistol at her. “I was praying very hard what to do, and a voice in the back of my head told me not to shoot you, even if that picture shows you as evil. Start talking …”
The woman started to sob. “Merci, monsieur. You have saved me from torment of an evil man…”
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