A long corridor leading to another grand staircase opened up to a Gothic-stiled ballroom There was a gold-painted balcony overlooking the ballroom floor. Tiny angels were embroidered in the balcony railing, wanting to fly off to the real Gates Of Heaven and not wanting to be fallen anymore. On the walls of the ballroom were high Gothic-stiled stain glass windows, peering out to the estate’s gardens. The pattern on the windows were of a sorrowful mother looking for her young child. It was a shame, really; the mother would forever be shedding silent tears and speechlessly calling for her young child to come in from the gardens and have supper.

In the garden of the estate were two statues. They were of fallen angels. Their heads forever molded to the granite; never to look up just once. Kasidy was sitting on the large platform that looked out onto the ballroom. Thoughts entered Kasidy’s head of past parties and and balls; counts and countesses dancing together and getting drunk on red wine; fancy Gothic Aristocrats discussing the beggars at the the bottom of the food-chain, and how they could never enjoy such luxury. The young earl opened up the “Sanctuary of Madness” and closed his eyes. Kasidy guessed that maybe it didn’t matter where you wrote when you had writer’s block, you’d still have writer’s block no matter where you are! But still, he penned more paper:

Crimson beauty yellow flowers
Crimson masquerade sparkling sea
Black roses white breast
Theres a tragedy with all beauty

Beautiful tragedy.

Kasidy laughed, then wrote some more:

The crimson beauty, sparkling on a solar ocean
Where magic and wishes come true
The wishes of the crimson beauty
Cannot be competed however
For wishes can never be granted
And magic isn’t real Nothing is real

It was true; nothing was real. Kasidy got up and looked outside in the pouring rain, the twilight reflecting off the patio surface. He paced back and forth for about fifteen minutes before realizing that he would never get anywhere, so he decided to take a nap and forget about his mother. Kasidy laid down on his bed, and fell asleep before he knew it. He hadn’t dreamed of anything, though the sound of breathing woke the young earl up. “Kasidy….” “Ugh….” “Kasidy, wake up!”

Kasidy opened his eyes. His little sister Llewellyn, was lying beside him. Her Blond pig- tales were pink; a little dye she must have put on them, Kasidy thought; as they were antithetic from last week’s green. Llewellyn sat up. “You fell asleep, silly.” “Indeed I did,” Kasidy laughed. “You didn’t even hear Father call your name, five times! What did you dream about?” “Nothing……..no, nothing.” Kasidy plopped Llewellyn on the ground. “What do you want, silly goose?” “Come on!” Llewellyn took Kasidy’s hand and he staggered over to the door. “James came back from school. Ya’ know he’s been here for most of the night.” “Night?” Kasidy asked. “How long have I been asleep?” “A long time,” Llewellyn said.