The Hunters moon

Props & Mayhem

Angel

We stand in the middle of it all. On the ground everything looks brighter, louder, and above all riveting. The streets are very clean for a place so busy. People of all kinds weave in and out from shop to shop. Within the main pull of it all we have seen a crystal shop, costume store, the candle studio, an antique store, three restaurants, two bakeries, and the museum of apple harvesting. We stop before the museum so Bree can go look at the schedule times for the tour.

The smell of fresh apples seems to linger everywhere. Looking far up the way we first came through seems so far. The bridge nowhere in sight and the road busy with an act.

A man with hair the color of fire rolls a purple barrel out into the main center. He climbs upon it and gingles an oversized bell. All those around stop to huddle around. Eyeing Jessie and Bree they appear to be busy talking to the woman at the museum. By the look on Bree’s face she is trying to get her hands on any set of tickets she can scrummage.

I’m sure they won't notice if I step away for a moment.

The man smiles wide for all those to see. “Welcome all those who have traveled far and wide. The creatures of Morssville welcome you with open arms and sharp teeth.” There's a small chuckle through the crowd but nothing more. The bad joke doesn’t cause the man to splunder, instead he straightens his back and lifts his head. “Let me start first with my name. I am Henry and here is my beautiful assistant, and wife, Gretchen.” He motions to his left where no one stands.

“It seems I have misplaced her.” Exaggerating, he looks around for the missing wife. Stepping down from the barrel the man opens it to show an empty space. Placing it back down, Henry adjusted the hem of his coat before sitting on his prop.

After lifting his hat to scratch his head he snaps his finger. “Oh, right.” Pulling something out of his pocket the man snaps it on the ground. The puff of green smoke overtakes the spot then clears to show a beautiful blonde woman with olive skin. The action is so smooth and fluid it’s truly impossible that she could have hidden anywhere. The crowd then breaks out into a clap as she waves to us all.

The smile on her face is right and beautiful, her eyes shine a green glimmer. The dress hanging from her is one woven of a fine deep green silk, silver spiders decorate her silver belt to match the spider web fishnet gloves. Her entire being calls to be the center of attention.

The magician bathes in the applause. When he turns to his wife his eyes budge large. “Well it seems I have summoned the wrong wife.” Quick as a whip Henry sends another spark of smoke up into the air. The woman who appears from this is just as radiant. Her long black hair curls around her face falling lusciously down her back. Where the blonde is slender, more petite, Gretchen has a wide set of hips skin the color of mocha that blazes beautifully against the red silk dress.

“Everyone, meet my two Beautiful wives, Gretchen and Aurora.” The crowd goes wild for the two, men being the loudest to holler.

The two lean in to kiss his cheeks. More roars from the crowds. Henry places himself back up on the barrel “We here at Morssville have a tradition. One that has been held here for two hundred and thirty nine years. This year marks the two hundred and fortieth.”

From his shirt he pulls out a black curtain. Quickly he twist it around Aurora

“Morssville was founded in the year 1770, we were an apple mill. The apples brought by us were of beautiful nature, their colors from a deep red to the lushest greens.” The wives hold one hand open while the other holds a cloth the color of their gowns. With a flip of the cloth over their open palms an apple sits in each one.

“However there was an apple tree here that produced a different sort of apple. An golden apple. The taste was unlike anything else. Then some came to try and take the apple tree, as the town fought back a war was set, within this war is when the tree burnt down. Both sides suffered.”

The apples within the wive’s hands explode in a fiery fume. The flames engulf their dresses, spinning around each other the flames engulf their dresses until both are wearing the same golden hue. The applause is almost too much to hear Henry.

“In honor of those who fought to keep the tree from harm, and those backs who broke to build this town, we now hold a tradition,” Pulling his hat off his head Henry pulls out a golden apple. “Somewhere in this very town an apple, that looks much like this one, has been hidden, find it and be granted one request from the town's lords.”

With a raise of his hands, the three explode into smoke completely disappearing from the road. The only thing left in their wake is the smell of smoke. Still, the crowd cheers or rages.

Jessie is the one who taps me on the shoulder. Looking back he smiles and nods his head. “Ready?”

“Ready!” I follow him to where Bree stands.

Her smile is devious. “You’ll never guess where I got us tickets to.”

-

“How exactly did you manage to score tickets inside here?”

Bree smiles cutely. “I just know how to get around.”

The three of us stand before the mansion's large gates with eight other people. “Don’t buy that, Angel. She just loves to torment me.” Jessie’s light eyes stay on the dark mansion.

Bree smacks his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. It’s still daylight anyway.”

“This place has bad vibes.” Jessie stands far away from the gates, its shadow casting across his face. Even in this crowd everyone stands far off from the gates. Too afraid to get too close. Eyeing the old metal my hand dances across it. The touch is ice cold, too cold even for the weather.

To my surprise the woman from earlier stands before the gate, as if she had magically aparated. Gretchen’s crystal white smile graces us all. Her previous gold silk gone, a new gown replaces it, the lace dress wrapping her in the finest georgette. “Welcome to Mors mansion. This is where the original family lived.” With a single swoop of her hand the gates open. Her heels click up the driveway. Seeing that the tour has begun we follow.

“While inside the rules are simple. No flash photography, do not touch anything unless advised, and above all do not steal.” She stops and shoots us all back a look. The grin overtaking her face was utterly daring, “Unless you wish to be cursed until the end of your days.”

The walk up is long. With each creeping step a buzzing sensation pulls me in. Almost toppling my feet over the other. We stop before the steps of the mansion. “If anyone wishes to leave, now is the time -“

On cue a man double overs and barfs all on the steps his partner squeals.

No one dares to say anything

Gretchen just rolls her eyes. “If any of you are to feel squeamish, uneasy, or just scared please turn back now.” As the man continues to unload there are three who walk off. Leaving eight of us remaining. Her dark eyes cast around. “Anyone else?”

We all stay silent. Shrugging, she turns to enter through the doors. As if the magic before follows her those doors swing open. “This is the grand entrance, those steps lead up to the young lord's bedrooms. Here is the main viewing room, hardly used except for parties.”

The moment my feet plant themselves on the wooden floors that same feeling curls up through my chest, dancing around my throat. Shivers come over me until my eyes take in the entryway. The staircase was beautiful. It curls along the walls until stopping just before us. The entryway has long pillars climbing up the wall framing the stained glass. Within each glass is a picture of some kind. One a wolf, a crow, and the last a snake. Following Gretchen my eyes take in the sitting room with the grand fireplace, antique dark furniture, and perfectly crafted tables. It should be unreal for a mansion this old.

When Gretchen pulls us farther into the house there is a loud thud. We all look back to see a woman fanning herself on the floor. “I’m sorry I-” Her partner helps her up and swoops the hair out of her face. Gretchen waves her hand.

The longer we walk through passing long hallways that same prickling feeling comes over me. It has my head turning every which way. A hand feels to curl around mine when we enter the next room with a large open window and shelves of books. Instantly my head turns to where there is no one. The only thing beside me is an old oil painting of an apple tree with red and green apples. “This was the family’s personal library. In here you can find books dating back to the early 1600’s. Some in old English, German, French, Italian, and Latin.”

We exit and head deeper within this strange place. My eyes cast in Jessie’s direction. His normally colorful face is pasty white, those clear eyes darting around as if someone will appear at any moment. He stays close to Bree, either from fear or protectively.

When we come to the ballroom my breath is once more stolen. The ceiling stretches so high, the pillars woven and etched with intricate designs. Large stained glass windows cast colors onto the floor below. Even with the dark colors the place is bathing in it’s beauty still vibrates within the air. This is where Jessie lets out a breath, “Bree, I need to get out of here.”

Her eyes look over to him, ready to beg, but Jessie’s face has been stolen of all color. She doesn't even say anything as she takes his hand to walk back the way we came. One of the other people follows behind. Most likely not wanting to go alone.

Gretchen’s eyes look at me. “Do you wish to leave too?”

I shake my head, “No, In fact I'd love to see more.”

She smiles curtly. “Alright, and you two?” Her attention turns to the men close by the entrance of the ballroom.

“We can make it.” One says, not very convincingly.

She shrugs, “Let’s continue.”

Gretchen weaves us through to the dining room, another sitting room, and past the main kitchen where we didn’t get a look at because of renovation. Supposedly there was an accident there a while back. Each room the pull growing stronger and stronger. Trying to rip me to where I am meant to be.

It’s not until we are up the steps and before this room that it comes over my entire body in waves.

“This is where the youngest Mors brother slept.”

Gretchen stands before the shut door of the youngest Mors brother. The only three who remain are me and two men. The men share a look both ghostly white and go back down the steps. Gretchen simply snorts as they exit. “They probably only came this far to not be outdone by a woman.”

I turn my head to her. “Do people not make it through the whole tour?”

Gretchen runs her fingers through her dark locks. “Usually they’ve all barfed, fainted, or ran with their tail between their legs. I’m surprised you made it this far.”

My eyes look past her to the door. That pull turns into buzzing, the thing that has all my senses on edge. The draw to this room is none like any other. “Are we allowed in?”

Her bright eyes shine. “As long as you won’t defile the carpet.”

I send a small smile her way. “I have a strong stomach.”

Her smile matches mine. She goes to take a key out when the door opens on its own. As if a ghost truly opened the door on its own. Gretchen clicks her tongue. Then motions for me to enter first. The first step into the room feels more like a push, like hands are pulling me all the way until my boots plant me directly in the center of the room.

Instantly my breath is stolen.