To be Mortal — Chapter 5. Garadai’s doors
A Second Draft Writing Challenge for both writer and reader.
It was truly a strange sensation. Stepping over the threshold felt like stepping into water. But the water was a thick warm air. Still, I could feel my weight shift, like stepping from the harbor unto a boat. The disorientation only lasted a second when I looked back up from my feet and was met with a piercing gaze of a pair of hairy white brows. You would think his piercing blue eyes would be the first thing you’d notice on a man like him, but it were his long with eyebrows that made me bite my tongue and stand still.
“My friend. This is Micheal, the one I mentioned.” Jozef said and patted me on the shoulder.
“I see.” The man spoke very softly, almost like he was disinterested in the whole ordeal. — “I do not enjoy taking on strays. However, as I am told you are a young man of the written word I welcome you to my abode. I am the Lord and Master here. You may call me Master Garadai And ask if you would do me the honor of being my guest.”
Having now been properly introduced I saw him more clearly now. His posture and physic looked that of a healthy lengthy young dandy, but his hands and face spoke a different truth. His features were old, older than that of Jozef whom I had guessed was around his 60’s. Master Garadai looked and sounded like he was 90 years of age. Long white hair and a even longer white beard, pristine in its presentation rested on a incredibly tailored red suit with black embroidery.
A little intimidated by his high snobbish demeanor and intimidating visage I managed to murmur out “Thank you. The honor is mine really.”
“Hm. I hope your written word excels the spoken word.” Garadai huffed.
“Don’t be so harsh on the boy. He still needs to proof himself. If he is shown to be incompetent, well — then you can have your cruel words motivate him. Agreed?” Jozef laughed.
“It had the desired outcome with you.” Garadai sneered. It would take me months before I discovered that sneering was his way of making a joke. But I digress.
The room we had entered was large and luxurious with massive paintings adorning the walls and hundreds of chandeliers with candles lighting the room. Like Garadai the room looked old, but as tailored and refined as his visage. The entire room was furnished with luxurious chairs, tables and sofa’s, like something I would see in a period film. And many strange collectibles were just scattered all across the room, nothing having a dedicated place, except for the paintings. What struck me the strangest was the amount of doors that also adorned the walls. All different. And all in different sizes. I took a full turn about the room to expect my new surroundings and then I saw the door we came through. The inner side was of a different color and make than the side of the alley. It also took a minute or so before James was willing to step inside too. When he did, the door closed on it’s own. Revealing there was another door adjoining right next to it. This caught my eye however, because I remembered clearly that there was no other door on the other side from the alley. There was but one door in that alley. This door suggested there was more. Master Garadai and James had their conversation, although for the life of me I don’t remember what their bickering was about. I believe I wasn’t listening to begin with, as I was enthralled with the mystery of the extra door. I reopened the door we came through, hoping to see from the alleys side whether there was a second door or not. However when I opened the door, there was no alley. But a hallway. A hallway in the same decorative fashion as the large room we were in now. Confused and absolutely amazed I took a look around the hallway. Here too were large paintings covering the walls, different sizes of doors crept in between and books lying about the floor.
“You are not in Utrecht anymore Boy. Nor are you in the Netherlands.” I heard Master Garadai say. When I turned he stood in the door opening stroking his long beard with his elongated fingers. — “You are not even in the same plane.”
“But how-?” I wanted to ask, but I could not even find the words that would sound like a question. Garadai smiled from the corner of his mouth.
“I hear you have had a long night. Perhaps it is best that I show you to your temporary quarters so you may rest. Catch your breath as they say. Before the work begins.” Turning around and having James in the corner of his eye he added — “The mud can join you.”
This resulted in James giving a deep angry growl, but he kept his calm neither the less. Garadai started to head towards the largest door, resembling a large gate made out of wood.
“It would be best if you were to follow me. One can get lost within my towers and never be found again.” He said, breaking my stupor and I hastily made way to him. James followed us begrudgingly with my typewriter still under his arm. At that moment I had forgotten Jozef entirely. Call it fatigue or shock. But I think he had left us before I had the chance to notice.
Master Garadai proceeded on guiding us through the many doors, halls and rooms. The space it self felt large. Too large. And I noticed there weren’t any stairs. You’d think bedrooms would be somewhere upstairs. Finally landing on what seemed to be a old part of the establishment with dust and spiderweb clinging to the walls, Garadai stopped at a deep green door.
“You may make use of this room. The both of you.” Garadai merely waved his hand and the door opened for us. I can only imagine that I was standing there with a big grin on my face. — “A fire has been lit. Everything else can use some necessary care. Goodnight.” And as smoothly as he guided us there, as smoothly did he make his leave.
“Thank you!” I called out to him as he went. Raising a hand of recognition, he left our view. James didn’t wait to see our host leave and entered in before us.
“He wasn’t joshing about the room needing some care.” He said. I entered and saw what he meant. The room was also very large. There was a large fireplace with indeed a fire lit, casting light on the furniture which was covered with dust. James began to light the candles and soon light displayed a canopy bed with green drapes mirroring the fireplace. Strangely he also began to open every cupboard and closet door he could find and left it open. In front of the fireplace stood a little sitting area. On the far end wall were two large bookcases that touched the ceiling with a large luxurious sofa build in between. When I stepped closer to examine the books, I noticed that there was one spot spotless of dust. On the wall between the two bookcases there was a discoloration of the wallpaper. A painting had been removed. Apart for the grandness of the room and the missing painting, what I also found peculiar was the lack of windows. In the many rooms they had ventured or hall ways they walked through, no windows.
Next to me a thump of James heavy fur coat landed on the floor, lifting dust into the air. James threw himself on large sofa.
“You can have the bed.” He said and he got comfortable closing his eyes.
“You sure?”
“Ai. To soft for me. Turn in for the night lad. Or morning. I can never tell in this maze.” He said and got comfortable putting his arms behind his head.
“Thanks.”
However, I lingered about the room, wiping the dust with my finger from chairs and the mantle piece.
“I thought I had seen it all when I met you.” I laughed nervously.
“What do you mean?” James replied, still with his eyes closed.
“In one day I’ve met people I never thought would exist. You. Garadai. He doesn’t seem human either. I mean. He can’t be right?”
James didn’t reply at first. Finally he sat up and looked at me.
“So. You think me inhuman then?” he asked. There was a hint of frustration in his voice which made me regret my phrasing. I pondered a little before answering.
“Don’t get me wrong. I am in a weird mental place right now. I’ve only met everyone a minute ago. Professor Melville saved my life and after discovering that ‘monsters’ are real, he allowed me to partake in his research. But you know, it’s strange. I do feel like I know you all already because of all the stories we hear. So yes. You aren’t exactly human in my book. But I don’t think you’re a monster either. I think my mom contributed to that.” I leaned against the bookcase close to James who was listening intently now. — “She would tell me a lot of stories about many different kinds creatures. Different kinds of ghosts and demons. Also about Lycanthropy, although she did call your kind werewolves.” I smirked. — “She told me a story once about a young woman who had fallen in love with a man, who turned out to be a werewolf. In order to be together the woman suggested she should be turned too. And so he turned her into a werewolf. But when her family found out, they banned together and killed her. Leaving the werewolf sad and vengeful.”
“And the werewolf killed the entire family right?” James concluded.
“No. He didn’t. I remember having the same idea though.” I said.” But according to my mom, the werewolf did what he thought was a more suitable punishment.”
“What he do?” James was completely enthralled by this point.
“Well, what do you think he did?” I mimicked my moms gentle tone at that moment without realizing. James thought a bit.
“He turned them all. Making them part of his pack.” James concluded.
“Ha. You caught on faster then I did when I first heard this story.” I laughed.
“He turned them all.” James said to himself.
“Around that time I understood what my mother was trying to teach me. That whether human or inhuman, born or made, emotions and motivations stay the same. Love, hate, fear, sadness. It’s what you choose to do that makes you a monster. Hell, just look in certain jails. A lot of monsters there and all of them human.”
“Well. Probably most of them.” James agreed.
“Think some caught for murder are supernatural too?”
“Oh of course. Probably skinwalkers, demons, you name it. As long as they can pass for human.”
“Wow. So-? Have you ever met a demon before?”
“Yeah. I’ve met a demon or two.” James smirked. — “It’s been a long while back though.”
“What were they like?”
“Sad.” Was all James had to say about it.
“And what about you. Besides your parents, do you know more werewolves — sorry Lycans- like you?”
James turned quiet for a bit. Clearly I hit a nerve.
“No others like me lad.” He said.
“I’m sorry.” I said when I heard sadness in his voice.
“It’s alright. If there are others like me, I haven’t come across them in a long while either. Call me a wolf without a pack.”
“What about your parents?”
“They died a long long time ago when I was still a boy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“What about you? Leaving folks behind to go on this topsy turvy venture?”
“My mother died awhile ago too. And I left home a little — abruptly.”
“But your father is still living?”
“Don’t know. Think so. I haven’t spoken to him for almost 2 years now.” I realized.
“You should find out. Family is important you know.” James said. I merely answered with a nod. But honestly he did got me thinking about my father and how I left home.
“You look like shit. Go get some rest now. Your human after all.”
I wanted to protest, but the moment he said it, the fatigue finally caught up with me. Or the drink. Who knew at that point. So much had happened since now and this morning. So much I still didn’t understand and so many things I wanted to home.
I sat on the edge of the bed and took off my coat and boots. I put my coat in the bedside cupboard and closed it.
“Don’t close that.” James said.
“Why?” I asked confused.
“That old goat is harmless. But a nosy fucker.” And then he laid back down and turned away. Compliant I kept the cupboard open. For a short moment I stared at the fire and at James before laying doing.
Since the morning I met a professor of the supernaturals, had almost been erased from existence, discovered the supernatural exist and now I am sharing a room with a werewolf. No. Excuse me. Lycanthrope.
Part of me was afraid I would wake up back in the hostel. I was convincing myself that my mind was not clever enough to dream something like this up. So I closed my eyes. I wasn’t out right away. Conscious enough to feel a blanket being placed over me, but to tired to open my eyes.
This chapter is part of a Second draft project. ‘To be Mortal’ is a writing exercise in which I include readers in my drafting process. The good and the inevitable ugly plot holes all out on display. If you want to practice your editorial skills. Have at it. I truly wish to have this be an open exercise for everyone.
