a small child of no more then six years old enters a huge old mansion, inside organ music plays some wherei n the house, luring the child into the mansions exterior. “hello?” she asks innocently, recieving no answer except for the old pipe organ playing, she continues to explore the many empty rooms of the old house, running her hands along the wooden banister as she goes up the creaking stairs. “hello?” she asks again as she gets closer to the source of the music, she steps cautiosly, not wanting to get caught in the old place. she spots a door, opened slighty and peers inwardly to find a boy around her age playing the dusty instrument, he continues playing, his eyes open but not seeing. “hello?” she asks softly and stares at him in wonderment. the playing comes to an abrupt stop when the boy hits a wrong note and breifly pauses before playing another more slower tune with a hint of sadnessin his strokes. “i dont mean to disturb your playing,” she begins, noting the way he swayed his head and the way his scragly black hair shone in the oil lamps ldim light.

” but… do you beleive in fate?” once again the playing stopped, the boys blind eyes blinking only once as he reaches for his wlaking stick. he gets up and carefully finds his way to her before stopping a mere five feet from her. “i expect so.” he says quietly, “please excuse me.” he says again, walking past her and noting that she smelled differently then the girl who was here before her. they quietly made there way down the stairs and into the wide and spacios entryway of the house, paintings of the houses previos owners hung on the walls, each with the face and the cracks of time worn away. the two children continued down the hall until they came to the bedroom where the boy slept. “why did you follow me here?” he asks with a hint of anger in his voice.

“i only came into the house because i heard that lovely music playing, do you live here all by yourself?” the boys blind unseeing eyes searched the door until he grabbed what he thought was the old handle, the golden shine on it no longer sparkling as it once did when his parents were still alive. “yes. im afraid that my parents died mysteriosly as i was born into this world of ours. since then i have lived here in this mansion, in which you stand.” he twisted the object in his hand slowly as he put his walking stick against the wall. “um…” the girl began, not sure what the boy was trying to do. “i do apologize for being blunt, but it seems you have taken a hold of my arm.” “oh, im sorry about that.” he said this with a slight arrogance and let go, almost falling if it had not been for the girl catching him. “thank you. you may stay if you wish, ill have the butlers and maids assist you if you wish. but you must leave in the morning. promise me this…. by what name do you go by?”

“oh, im sorry to not introduce myself, my name is espada del victoria. may i ask what your name is then?” the boy stood there, now with the handle of his bedroom door in his hand, he looked at the plain uninteresting plank of rosewood that had served as his door for longer then espada had been alive. “my name…” he started slowly, sounding out the words as if they hadnt been spoken in a thousand years. “my name is… regocijo espina umbral. good night ms. victoria, may your dreams be pleasant.”

espada lead the young boy to his bedroom, and still she was curios about the song he had been playing on the piano in the old ballroom. “what was the you were playing in the room earlier if you dont mind me asking?” espina climbed into his parents former bed and put his walking stick against the wall. “you should go to bed, ill have the butlers escort you to any of the rooms in the house…. except the one with the obsidian sign on it labled ‘tumba del los noventa nueve huerto’s’.” spada’s curisoity still not satisfied  she asked him again, what the song was the he wasp laying earlier. “that?” he said still coldly as he could. “that was just something to keep the huerto happy. thats all.”

that night she heard a strange vioce in her dreams, like it was calling out to her, tempting her curios mind withpromises of princes and kingdoms, of thougths and happines, of finding the truth behind the music. “i must findo ut what the truth is,” she said to her sefl, the voices still with her while she silently snuck out of her room. “and find out what the vioces are talking about.” she crept down the stairs, cooly and quietly as a mouse, sneaking by espinas room. but as she did so, she thought she could hear him say in his sleep “go back to bed…” she thought he heard her wlaking down the hallway, “dogs… go back to bed dogs… i play with you in the morning… after shes left… play with you in the morning.” but it turned out she had caught him having a dream.

a few minutes later she was at the door with the obsidian sign labeled ‘tumba del los noventa nueve huerto’s’. it was a strange looking door, with vines of silver clinging onto the doors frame, handle and knob as it were trying to let itself out. “i wonder…” her hand instictivley inched towards the door, as it got closer, the vines seemed to receed back to the edges of the door, as if waiting for her to take hold of the door.