Îmi traduce cineva asta dau 20 puncte
There are many locked doors in this house,” Tesla told me skipping down the corridor, in her ruffled dress, giggling delighted. Her sounds should have been those of a playful child, but coming from her mouth, in that house, they seemed more like the distant laments of a ghost. Her face was covered by a veil, but it could not hide the red pallor of her lips or the way they curled in mischievous satisfaction whenever she troubled those around her. She was “the body electric”, sacrosanct mater familias, a child of barely nine.
After dinner on my first evening in the house, I had asked Arthur about the veil on Tesla’s face.
“That’s just for everyone’s safety,” he assured me.
“Safety from what?” I thought it was a religious thing.
He mumbled something about electricity and poison and left it at that.
“Oh, don’t pay attention to her rubbish, Marcus. She’s just teasing you,” Arthur put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“She is right though. There are a lot of locked doors in your house.”
The night before I had gotten lost. I had wandered up to the wrong floor, last glass of scotch Arthur had forced on me in one hand, half-burnt out cigarette in another. The house was too big, like a castle. It belonged in a Gothic novel. Except I was no virginal heroine. I tried the doors. They were all locked.
On that particular evening, Arthur was sitting in his armchair, as content as a big cat after a meal. Much like a feline,meat, I noticed, pleased Arthur. Big and strong and Samson-like, short dark hairand neatly cut beard, he was a nice guy of the lovable brute variety. He was a carpenter – a whimsical profession considering his upbringing. He made a rack for my wine collection. We became friends. He said his family was strange. I didn’t believe him.
Tesla was reading a book by the fire. Some horrific children’s book of the old fashioned variety with ogres and pig hearts in sugar statues that would have terrified the sensitive hearts of modern parents anywhere but in that house. Tesla liked them.
The household consisted I was told of Madam Millie, Arthur’s mother, Arthur himself, Tesla and Arthur’s younger sister, Lily. Lily was ill. I didn’t see her. As to Tesla’s relation to Arthur, it remained a bit of a mystery. I was lead to believe they were rather cousins than brothers, but where was Tesla’s family then? Tesla hardly seemed the pitiful orphan type.
I break the gloomy silence.
No answer. The best solution was to turn back to the stairs and just go to the lowest level. That would lead to the entrance and then to the study.
Of course, there were floors beneath the ground floor. Or the steps stopped abruptly before I reached it and pretended that the first floor was actually the ground floor. Too much scotch. Arthur was an enabling horror when it came to alcohol.
I was annoyed so I decided to be extra rude and banged on all the doors. I could always blame it on the alcohol. Or Arthur. My knocking echoed like the sound of church bells in the night. One door was different. The moment my fist reached for it, it stopped mid-air. I couldn’t knock on it. A hand grabbed my fist from behind. I startled, but quickly recognized the big rough hands as belonging to Arthur.
“What are you doing all the way up here?” he asked with a smile, but I could sense he was worried.
“Up where?” I was confused.
“Never mind, let’s get you to your room. Can you walk by yourself?” he asked and I caught him stealing a glance toward the door.
“And if I can’t? Are you offering to carry me to my room? I’m not some damsel in distress,” I told him with a scoff, but immediately stumbled as if to prove him right.
“How about a shoulder to lean on then?” he offered and grabbed my arm before I had a chance to protest. As we headed down the corridor, he said: “Marcus, don’t try to go into that room again. It’s dangerous.”
“Whose room is it? Tesla’s?” I laughed to myself, but Arthur was being unusually serious.
“It’s Lily’s room,” he said.
“Your sister? Does she have a contagious disease or something?” I assumed.
“You could say that.” Not much of an answer.
“Isn’t keeping her under lock and key a bit much though?” I asked. He didn’t say anything more. Arthur was the sort of obstinate fellow that explained himself once and assumed that explanation was valid for all other questions. Drowsiness overcame me and I fell asleep against Arthur’s shoulder like a baby. In the end, I was just like a damsel in distress. Passed out from the sheer excitement of my adventure.
