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    A Sigh Through the Veil of Being
    A Sigh Through the Veil of Being
    A Sigh Through the Veil of Being
    Ebook86 pages1 hour

    A Sigh Through the Veil of Being

    By Aleksi Karvonen

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Three short stories connected to Whispers Through the Veil of Being.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBooks on Demand
    Release dateJul 30, 2018
    ISBN9789528001676
    A Sigh Through the Veil of Being
    Author

    Aleksi Karvonen

    --------------------------------------------------------

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      Book preview

      A Sigh Through the Veil of Being - Aleksi Karvonen

      A Sigh Through the Veil of Being

      Contents & Author's Note

      The Dream / Perpetual Winter

      Chasm of Despair

      The Essence of Isolation

      Copyright

      Contents & Author's Note

       The Dream / Perpetual Winter

      *

      Chasm of Despair

      *

      The Essence of Isolation

      *

      Author's Note:

      A brief gust of truth.

      The Dream / Perpetual Winter

      The Dream

      *

      As I entered the ballroom, the first thing I noticed was the impressive size and wealth of it – the entrance hallway had been intricate enough with the gleaming luxury of ornamental decoration, but even that was little compared to this. A large, indomitable hearth dominated the western wall, its blazing fire sending comfortable warmth into the area, reaching up to the doorway I was standing next to. On the eastern side there were several cushioned chairs with a center table in between them, made of old, dark mahogany wood, crafted with elaborate shapes and curves. The whole place was illuminated by numerous candelabra scattered about the area.

        I looked at the northern portion of the room. A set of tall, iron-framed windows covered most of the wall. In front of one such window an elderly man was sitting in a similarly cushioned antique chair that lay placed near the eastern side. The man was facing the window, his back on me, gazing out despite being certainly unable to see anything due to the raging storm outside.

      *

      When I was about to step further into the room, I heard a grandfather clock chime to my side. It stood next to the fireplace and was massive – an awe-inspiring, towering masterwork of wood, reaching up to great height. I couldn't make out the time as the clock's face was hidden in shadows, but the bell kept tolling multiple times, suggesting it might've been eleven or twelve - it was late, I knew that much.

        The servant next to me motioned me forward – same man who had answered the door - and led me into the ballroom from the entrance hallway. I nodded to him and stepped towards the man, who was still facing the window, not taking notice of my approach.

        I stepped next to him and peered outside through the window. It was dark, and I could only decipher running straits of water pouring down on the other side of the glass. I looked at the man and he finally noticed me, turning his head to face mine. He gave a smile that seemed genuine enough, although I noticed right away it being infused with a hint of sadness and age.

      *

      The man's features were deep with bony cheeks, lush beard and grey hair. He didn't seem old exactly, barely out of the his best years, only recently having stepped into the group one would call elderly. My eyes were drawn to his broad shoulders - judging by his stature and general posture, I would say he was a man I wouldn't want to have a fistfight with, despite his considerable age.

        His eyes, which were behind a set of round spectacles, however, had deep, dark circles around them. He seemed tired, and when he started speaking his voice was that of an old man, much older than his outward appearance would suggest.

      Ah, so you've arrived.

      He extended his hand. I removed my gloves and grasped it. The handshake was firm, his grip steady, yet I sensed muscles shaking underneath the facade of steadiness.

      I hope your journey went well despite the storm?

      I smiled and assured him that, despite the roads being muddy and the storm ambushing our carriage, there had been not much trouble. He seemed contented with my answer and continued;

      Let us go warm ourselves by the fire, it's much more comfortable there. This window is letting draft in, don't you agree? I must remember to get it fixed soon. These windows are like that, always letting draft in, I should get them all replaced... but I'm rambling.

      He got up with a grunt, the chair underneath him giving a slight, squawking sigh as he lifted his weight. I was surprised as he stumbled and almost fell – perhaps he wasn't in that good of a shape I had assumed. I offered hand to give balance, and he accepted the help, saying;

      Thank you friend. My, uh, health hasn't been that what it used to be. These cold nights of late autumn are getting into my bones more and more each year and the manor, despite being build sturdy, is starting to show its age with its leaky windows and all that. But let us forget that for now and go warm ourselves by the fire.

      We walked at the hearth. I sat down to one of the old but comfortable, cushioned chairs. This close the heat was much more prominent, though still manageable – I could already feel the chill of the journey beginning to melt, the warmth penetrating my very being, warming me from the inside. I smiled and extended my hands; the feeling of warmth was nice, and as I looked about the luxurious ballroom I couldn't help but envy the man's wealth.

        The man sat next to me with a sigh – it was as if the walk from the window to the fire had exhausted him, like he'd accomplished some great and challenging deed by the simple act of traversing across the room. I wondered what had reduced such a stern, stoic looking man into a state such as this. He gazed in the fire and said, not taking his eyes away from the flames while speaking;

      Ah, but where are my manners - James!

      The receptionist – a butler as well, I now assumed - walked in and positioned himself next to us by the fire.

      Yes, Sir?

      The man glanced at him, then me.

      Get me a whiskey. What would you like, friend?

      I motioned to him that anything would do, but then changed my mind and announced that a shot of whiskey sounded good indeed. The butler vanished with hasty steps and soon arrived back with a pair of glasses and a bottle on tray. He poured an exact amount of whiskey into both our glasses and handed them to us. I was impressed by his quick and precise movements – he must've been at the man's service for a long time, judging by his expertise.

      Ah, nothing like a shot of whiskey on a stormy October night.

      The man had already downed the shot in one short gulp whilst I decided to savour the taste a bit longer. The whiskey was certainly of good quality, but being the amateur I was I couldn't recognize its exact brand. I thanked both the man and the butler, announcing

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