Charlotte Dwimor

Lysander did not know if he should scream, run away or do both. The strange words of the taxi driver came back to him about the stories and how nobody wanted to be here. Was this place actually haunted?

The young man took a step back, his feet deciding on their own to escape, when he noticed the figure holding the lantern that was walking towards him. It was a woman wearing a plain, dark, knee high dress with a white half apron on top. Her blouse was lined with cream colored ruffles and ruffled headpiece in her white hair. The woman’s eyes were blue and seemed to glow in the light of her lantern. She reminded him of the maids one would see in rich people’s houses. At least the ones Lysander had seen in the movies.

Though her outfit was demure, there was a cold hatred burning in her eyes as she looked at him from the other side of the gate.

“Id?”

“What?”

Her eyes narrowed and the lips tightened into a thin line.

“Oh! Yes! Of course.”

The show of stupidity continued as Lysander had to check each pocket for his wallet as he could not, for the life of him, remember where he had put it. This maid finally got to see his card and spent quite a few minutes studying the horrible DMV photo and his own face. She had no care for the rain that was starting to get heavier.

The maid flicked the card back at him which Lysander fumbled and had to pick up. The gate began to groan open on a hidden motor enough so he could slip himself and his baggage through. He barely had the last suitcase through when it started closing again, Lysander’s protests ignored.

“This way.”

No offer to help with the luggage, no apologies for making him wait. The maid turned on her heel and marched back towards the door she had come leaving him to drag everything the entire way. The rain started to really come down when he passed the fountain in the center of the roundabout, though no water came out of it and it was overgrown by lichen.

The maid walked up the steps, shoved the doors open roughly and didn’t bother to stop it from slamming shut when Lysander tried to follow. Staring at it in surprise, he tried it, found it unlocked and hauled his way through.

The inside foyer was large. The lights brighter than outside but much of the place was still covered in shadow. The maid had vanished leaving him standing by the door with his baggage confused and exhausted.

‘Wow. Wish Grandfather warned me he had a bitchy maid.’

“Leave your luggage there.”

Lysander visibly jumped as the maid spoke to his right. She stood there glaring at him as he shrunk back. She held a candelabra with four lit candles dancing and casting strange shadows on her pretty face.

“I’m Lysander.”

“I know.”

“You...are?”

The maid turned her back to begin towards the large staircase in the center of the foyer and then stopped. She looked over her shoulder, those haunting blue eyes studying him.

“Charlotte Dwimor. I’m the housekeeper though I am referred to as the head maid,” her voice came in a sullen bite. It almost sounded like she had given in to the fact Lysander was not going to just drop dead where he stood.

The young man opened his mouth to ask another question but she spun back around and marched up the stairs, the candle shadows dancing on the walls adding to the strangeness as the lightening flashed outside.

Lysander reached for his luggage again.

“I said leave it.” Charlotte snapped at him from the top of the stairs.

“I...I just need my laptop. Sorry! I’ll be quick.”

Lysander dug through the first suitcase as fast as he could as the woman on the stairs huffed at him with impatience. Hugging the old laptop and charging cable tightly to his chest, the author quickly fell into step behind the head maid as she led him through the maze of a house.

It was only two turns through the hallways that Lysander realized he was lost. She finally stopped at a door and pushed it open with a bang.

“This is one of the guest rooms. We didn’t know when you’d bother to show so I did not have the staff setup the master bedroom.” Charlotte snipped as she strode in with the candle.

“Apologies, I only got the letter--”

“The bed is made, there is refreshments on the desk, and an on suite bathroom if you get thirsty. The kitchen is closed for the night so I can have the cook feed you something in the morning.”

Lysander only had a moment to put his laptop on the bed and followed her around the large room with canopy bed. It looked like something straight out of a vintage photo.

“Thank you!” Lysander tried to get out as Charlotte swept from one corner of the room to the other. She set the candelabra down on the desk by the window where the heavy curtains were closed.

Charlotte threw back the bed covers roughly with no attempt to be civil and strode towards the door.

“The rules are simple. Do not talk to the staff unless I am present and do not leave your room at night. Do not open the door unless it is me and only me.”

Lysander frowned. “But I thought I owned--”

“Do not leave your room after dark and do not open this door unless it is me! ”

The door slammed and like that, he was alone. Lysander sat down on the bed stunned as he stared at the only way out.

‘What the hell?’

He pulled out the envelope again from his grandfather and read it again. Yes, that was the name. Charlotte. The letter seemed to have such high praise for her but all he could see was a bitchy woman who thought too high of herself.

With a sigh, the young man pulled off his shoes and socks and opened his laptop. Of course there was no wifi. Why did he think there was going to be in this old house? Closing it again, putting it on the charger, and turning towards the bed, he flopped down on the comfy mattress and sent a quick text to his mom that he had made it safe.

As always, she sent back more heart emojis than she had too. Groping for the charging cable for his phone, he remembered he didn’t have it.

“Damn it,” he growled. “Forgot the phone charger?”

For a few moments, Lysander debated ignoring Charlotte and going to get his luggage but the tone made him change his mind. He would not put it past her to try to stab him in the night or something.

Just to be sure, he slid the dresser against the in swinging door for the night.