T-L Spencer: Dreaming, Writing, Reading

This months competition has come to a close and I anxiously await the results. Fingers crossed and happy Halloween to all!

We stood face to face for the first time five weeks ago, when she dutifully arrived at this posting. On that day the handmaid was permitted to come to the front door. I decided to wait behind it, to see what little I could of her before she was presented to me. One of the precious freedoms left even for those like myself. She appeared as a red shadow, her image warped by the stained glass. A shadow, an object, a vessel - the handmaid’s duty. It is a bitter and gloomy thought. I wish I could be different, but time and experience has ruined me. I gazed at the door, its varnished wooden frame peeling away, revealing the rings hidden for centuries, showing the age concealed beneath. The smell of stale perfume, the old furniture, having been used by many lords and ladies at grand balls and parties, the images of butlers in black suits and white gloves remain encrusted in time. The old grandeur died years ago but lingers still in the air. My thoughts were interrupted by a figur...