The Rose Of Eden (Prologue/Chapter 1)
The search for satisfaction of one's lust for perfection.
Prologue:
The golden rose stood in the middle of the hidden garden, Michael strode towards it, his shiny emerald eyes glistening with desire. His boot nudged out of his path the morbidly disfigured, now melted, face of his former companion. His black cape flowing loosely behind him, as the only sign of the true darkness this beautiful, wondrous garden held.
His pale hands encompassed the voluptuous flower and within moments, a singular reckless and arrogant young man held the key to pure eternal beauty.
Chapter 1:
Many an acquaintance knew Mr Michael Noir to be, by large, a rather unpleasant man. Intelligent by all means, but an amplified sense of self worth and a ridiculously large inheritance had led to many an infliction upon his personality and goodwill. To many of the female persuasion, however, reputable handsome looks and an estate comparable in both size and grandeur, to that of royalty, had made him very agreeable indeed. Often, even amongst those closest enough to know of his character.
Mr Noir was a collector. He collected beauty; starting with his own perfected features. His face was firm and without age, his eyes relentlessly drew people in, leaving them incapable of speech or wit.
His stately home was filled with paintings, sculptors, elegant vases filled with rare and exquisite flowers. His acres of garden were filled with tall, proud trees, perfectly shaped hedges and many blooming flowers, none of which you would think twice about once your eyes devoured the sight of his fountain. Clear blue water caressed the features of the Greek goddess Aphrodite, who was being fed an apple by her fellow goddess Artemis, who knelt beside her. The artist had depicted Aphrodite as an emblem of beauty whereas the slight of frame, Artemis was depicted as inferior and servant like, offering her fruit. The design was his own and he had paid the artist, who he had brought in from Italy, several thousands of pounds for it.
This would seem a rather small expense when compared to his Grand library. Many would guess how much a high ceilinged, golden Chandelier lit and priceless tapestry adorned room would cost, but many would not come close. The walls were lined with mahogany shelves supporting books of myth and legend that he would peruse ruthlessly in the pursuit of rare artifacts.
It was in this library, late one night when the candles were nearly burnt to their end, that Michael first heard the legend of the rose of Eden. Shouting to his housekeeper, he arose from the desk so fast that several books toppled to the floor, scattering worn pages.
"Brenda, Brenda! You must come this instance!!" He knelt to the floor gathering up his pages.
"Brenda!" The library door swung open and in came an elderly lady with a firm face. She wore a gray nightgown and held a small candle in a well polished brass candle holder.
"Sir..?" Rising from the floor he stared at her.
"Good god Brenda! What on earth are you doing in your night clothes?"
"Sir, it's late, the staff went to their chambers quite some time ago-"
"Well wake them this instance. I must be packed and fed so I may ride at dawn. I have found something and will require Charles' help in obtaining it. I shall leave the city by luncheon." Brenda stared at him for a second as if to protest but thought better of it and scurried out.
Michael Noir stood for some time clutching a red, leather bound Journal, then with an air of triumph bounded out of the Library, swooped up the stairs and into his bedchamber to pack all his urgent belongings.
The golden rose stood in the middle of the hidden garden, Michael strode towards it, his shiny emerald eyes glistening with desire. His boot nudged out of his path the morbidly disfigured, now melted, face of his former companion. His black cape flowing loosely behind him, as the only sign of the true darkness this beautiful, wondrous garden held.
His pale hands encompassed the voluptuous flower and within moments, a singular reckless and arrogant young man held the key to pure eternal beauty.
Chapter 1:
Many an acquaintance knew Mr Michael Noir to be, by large, a rather unpleasant man. Intelligent by all means, but an amplified sense of self worth and a ridiculously large inheritance had led to many an infliction upon his personality and goodwill. To many of the female persuasion, however, reputable handsome looks and an estate comparable in both size and grandeur, to that of royalty, had made him very agreeable indeed. Often, even amongst those closest enough to know of his character.
Mr Noir was a collector. He collected beauty; starting with his own perfected features. His face was firm and without age, his eyes relentlessly drew people in, leaving them incapable of speech or wit.
His stately home was filled with paintings, sculptors, elegant vases filled with rare and exquisite flowers. His acres of garden were filled with tall, proud trees, perfectly shaped hedges and many blooming flowers, none of which you would think twice about once your eyes devoured the sight of his fountain. Clear blue water caressed the features of the Greek goddess Aphrodite, who was being fed an apple by her fellow goddess Artemis, who knelt beside her. The artist had depicted Aphrodite as an emblem of beauty whereas the slight of frame, Artemis was depicted as inferior and servant like, offering her fruit. The design was his own and he had paid the artist, who he had brought in from Italy, several thousands of pounds for it.
This would seem a rather small expense when compared to his Grand library. Many would guess how much a high ceilinged, golden Chandelier lit and priceless tapestry adorned room would cost, but many would not come close. The walls were lined with mahogany shelves supporting books of myth and legend that he would peruse ruthlessly in the pursuit of rare artifacts.
It was in this library, late one night when the candles were nearly burnt to their end, that Michael first heard the legend of the rose of Eden. Shouting to his housekeeper, he arose from the desk so fast that several books toppled to the floor, scattering worn pages.
"Brenda, Brenda! You must come this instance!!" He knelt to the floor gathering up his pages.
"Brenda!" The library door swung open and in came an elderly lady with a firm face. She wore a gray nightgown and held a small candle in a well polished brass candle holder.
"Sir..?" Rising from the floor he stared at her.
"Good god Brenda! What on earth are you doing in your night clothes?"
"Sir, it's late, the staff went to their chambers quite some time ago-"
"Well wake them this instance. I must be packed and fed so I may ride at dawn. I have found something and will require Charles' help in obtaining it. I shall leave the city by luncheon." Brenda stared at him for a second as if to protest but thought better of it and scurried out.
Michael Noir stood for some time clutching a red, leather bound Journal, then with an air of triumph bounded out of the Library, swooped up the stairs and into his bedchamber to pack all his urgent belongings.
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