We pulled up to the iron gates of my apparent aunt’s house with the screech of our car’s old brakes. I read in the tall, imposing iron the words ‘Lucerne Manor’. Looking past it, I saw an enormous smoky black mansion with a rock path leading straight up to the front door. The thing seemed to look down on me as if I was an ant and it was a bored toddler. Dark, warped trees surrounded the mansion and rows upon rows of purple flowers surrounded the trees. As I tried to take it all in, I could’ve sworn it got a whole lot darker.

“Um, Mom, this isn’t it, is it?” I asked her, praying she would say no.

“Yup, this is your Aunt Estella’s house. Now, I know it looks kind of, well, let’s just say different compared to our house, but Aunt Estella is my sister you know. She’ll take good care of you and who knows, maybe you’ll come to like the place,” Mom said, trying to cover up what this house was; straight up weird.

“Don’t count on it,” I replied as I opened the car door, grabbing my dark red suitcase and walked up to the fierce iron gates. I turned around to her. “How long do I have to stay here again?”

“Just until I find a job,” she said.

“And that’s going to take how long?” I pushed.

“Have fun, Lydia! Say hi to Estella for me!” she shouted as she sped away without answering my question.

“That’s not a good start,” I said to myself. I turned to face the gates again. Just looking at them made me want to run for my life. “Okay, Lydia. Just look at this all in a scientific way. Everything here is simply…abnormal,” I told myself, hoping I might just believe it.

As I was about to push the gates open, a jet black crow landed atop the stone wall standing beside the gate. “You must be Lydia. Nora told me all about you. Do come in, dear,” it said in a woman’s voice. My jaw dropped and I immediately began thinking, ‘That bird just talked, that bird just talked,’ but I stopped myself and determined that it had to be a robot. That was the only logical explanation. Then before I touched the gate, it shuddered into motion and creaked open by itself. ‘That was just a, uh…magnet! Yes, a magnet,’ I thought. I breathed in deeply and took my first step onto the stone path leading into the Lucerne Manor.

The crow flew along beside me and I looked at it warily, afraid it would start talking again. My suitcase made quite a racket against the uneven stones that made up the path and would occasionally get stuck and I’d have to pry it loose. The crow simply stopped with me when I had to free my suitcase, waiting patiently while I struggled with it. We arrived at the wooden steps onto the porch and it perched itself on the wooden railing. I lugged my suitcase up the steps and met the bird at the top. I looked at the tall, black door and the golden knob and knocker on it. The knocker was in the shape of a flower which I found interesting. It was the same flower that was growing all around the yard. I looked back at the crow, expecting it to tell me what to do. It simply twitched and scratched its wing. “Oh, sure, now you act like a normal bird,” I said. It cocked its head to the side at me.

I bit my lip and turned back to the door. I reached for the circular handle of the knocker slowly, nervously. “Can I help you?” a voice asked. I gasped and withdrew my hand in alarm. I looked over my shoulder to the crow, but it had flown away. “Who?” I whispered.

“Hello? I said can I help you?” the voice said again with an attitude. I searched all around me for the source of the voice but couldn’t see anything. I turned back to the door and stared at the knocker. ‘Could it be?’ I thought to myself. “What are you lookin’ at?” For the first time, I saw the flower move up and down like a mouth talking. My jaw dropped again. “What are you stupid or something?” I didn’t answer. “Hey! You! Say something!”

I shook my head as I snapped back to attention. “Oh, um,” I spilled out, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, good, you can talk. So, what do you want?” it asked, sounding a little less frustrated.

“Uh, I’m Lydia,” I said, still unsure of what to say to a piece of metal.

“Yeah, that’s great. I’m Frank. Now, I’ll ask again, what do you want?” he said, or at least I assumed it was a man.

“Oh, I, uh, I’m supposed to be living here for a while,” I spat out.

“What? Who decided that?” he asked.

“My mother, she’s Estella’s sister,” I explained.

“What? You’re Madam Estella’s niece? Well, that changes everything!” he said. The ring moved forward and hit the door three times. “It’s nice to meet you Lydia.”

“Um, yeah, nice to meet you too, Frank,” I said, feeling slightly odd. ‘How to explain that one,’ I thought, but I was interrupted by the door opening.

A tall woman appeared. She had dark brown hair tied back in a messy bun and a long face, just like my mother’s. She was wearing a dark blue dress with lots of white lace on it. It looked like the dresses people wore a hundred years ago. “Lydia, it’s great to see you!” she said, “I hope the trip over here wasn’t too horrible.” She led me inside and down a dark hallway into a large room with a very tall ceiling. It had blood red carpet and dark brown wooden walls. A beautiful golden chandelier hung from the ceiling with uncountable candles burning on it, lighting the room as well as warming it.

“You can leave your bag over there for now, if you’d like,” she said, gesturing to the corner of the room. I dragged my suitcase over there, being very careful not to hit any of the gorgeous, red and brown furniture with it. She grabbed my arm and gently pulled my over to a chair with a very tall back to it and sat me down in it. I immediately let myself slip into the comfort the chair offered me with its soft cushions. “So, tell me, how have things been at home?” she asked as soon as she sat down in a chair opposite me. Her posture was perfect and she sat at the edge of the chair, unlike me. I was slouching and leaning back so far in the chair all I could see in my peripherals were red fabric.

“Well, things have been alright I suppose. I miss having Dad around sometimes, but it’s alright. I’ll manage,” I told her.

“Why isn’t your father around?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Didn’t Mom tell you? They divorced last year,” I said.

“No, she didn’t tell me. I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, “And how do you cope with that?”

“I’m fine. It gets a little lonely sometimes when Mom’s away for a while, but I guess that’s why she sent me here,” I said, looking away from her.

“Yes and we’re certainly glad to have you. Everyone was so excited when they heard that you were coming,” she said.

I rose my head, “Everyone?” ‘Mom didn’t mention anybody else. I know my uncle is here somewhere, but that’s only one other person,’ I thought. Just then, a man in a suit and bow tie walked through the archway to another room, the kitchen I assumed since he brought out a tray with tea cups and a tea pot on it. I noticed something odd about him right away. He didn’t have a face. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. Just skin. I didn’t mean to, but I stared at him as he set the tray down on the short table between Aunt Estella and I. My eyes continued to follow him as he bowed and walked back to the room he came from. I turned back to Aunt Estella wide eyed. She was reaching for the tea pot and cups.

“Here you go,” she said as she poured the tea, “One lump or two? Oh? What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t speak so I simply pointed to the doorway that the faceless man had come out of.

“Oh, Luther? He’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise. He’s just the butler around here,” she said.

“He’s…he’s got no f-f-fa-” I stuttered.

“Face?” she asked, “You’re right, he has no face. They say he was born that way. I don’t really know. He’s been here as long as I have and as long as I’ve known him, he’s had no face. He really is a nice man, though. He can’t speak, see, or smell, but he can hear very well, so he makes a fabulous butler. It’s good to know he’ll never complain about his work!” She laughed hysterically while I just kind of chuckled nervously. I felt bad making fun of him especially if he was right in the other room and he could hear well. “So, you never did answer. One lump or two?” she asked again after her laughter had died down.

“Lump of what?” I asked.

“Sugar, silly. Haven’t you ever had tea?” she giggled.

“No, I don’t think so,” I answered.

“Really? Kids these days are a lot different than the kids I knew when I was younger, I suppose,” she said in shock, “Well, I’ll put one in and if you want a second, you can put it in, okay?”

“Okay.” I took the opportunity to look around that room. There were several tall bookshelves and many paintings of people I didn’t recognize. Everything looked older.

“Here you are, Lydia,” Aunt Estella said, passing me the tea cup, “Be careful, it’s hot.”

I took it in my hands gently, determined not to spill it on this most likely expensive furniture and carpet. I blew on it lightly to help cool it and then took a testing sip. It was hot, but not scalding and tasted like it were brewed from roses. It was a very warm feeling, drinking the tea.

“So, Lydia, what do you think of the mansion so far?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s, um, definitely not like anything else I’ve seen. It’s interesting for sure. Everything seems so grand,” I said, trying not to say that the place freaked me out. When I said grand, I looked at her flowing dress and then at my own attire. I was wearing khaki shorts and a dark green shirt with a white star at the bottom right. Boy did I feel under dressed.

“Yes, this mansion is unique. I’m sure your home is completely different,” she said, looking up at the chandelier. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No,” I said, taking another sip from my tea. I took a look around again and then up at the chandelier. I could simply gaze at it for hours.
“I figured as much. I met you when you were only a month or two old. No wonder you don’t remember me,” she giggled, “Let’s see, you would be 12 now, correct?”
I nodded, taking in a brief silence and said, “Aunt Estella?”

“Yes?” she said, relaxing her neck to look at me.

I did the same thing and looked her directly in the eye. “Why did that crow talk and why did the knocker talk?”

“First off, his name is Frank, not the knocker, but they both talk because of the magic,” she said, bluntly.

“Magic?”

“Yes, magic. It exists in this house, enchanting everything in it. The chair you’re sitting in can think for itself. The cup you’re drinking out of has its own personality. Everything here in Lucerne Manor is alive,” she explained.

I looked at the cup in my hands and saw that it had a blue design on it. I looked closer to see that it even had eyes hidden in that design. And for the third time that day, my jaw dropped as the cup winked at me. Shocked, I set the cup down lightly on the table, afraid of hurting it and turned the eyes away from me. I looked behind me into the chair and the fabric seemed to form a crease in the shape of a smile. “So that’s what you meant by everyone,” I muttered.

“I do hope you enjoy your stay here, Lydia. I can guarantee that it’ll be a time like no other,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, it already is a time like no other,” I said, looking around at everything that was supposedly enchanted. The bookshelf could probably talk to me, maybe even suggest a story. I bet that the chandelier could move on its own. Perhaps the piano in the corner would put on a concert every once in a while.

“Oh, and just so you know, never go into the library,” she told me.

“The library? How come?” I asked.

She stiffened slightly and said, “I just think it would be dreadfully boring for someone your age, that’s all.”

“No, I like books,” I said, trying to call her out on her bluff.

“Oh, well, still, there’s lots of dust and everything’s old. It’s a hazard just walking in there!” she laughed quietly.

“Is that right?” I muttered. ‘This place gets weirder by the minute,’ I thought.

We went on talking for about ten minutes or so. She would tell me about the house and how certain things were built and when. Parts of it were actually interesting while other parts lulled me to sleep. She explained that this was the only house in the country that was surrounded by a ‘magic field’ that caused everything to come to life. This whole ordeal became less and less believable with every sentence that came out of Aunt Estella’s mouth. I began to return to my scientific reasoning. ‘The tea cup,’ I thought, ‘Must have been some sort of optical illusion. And the chair was simply a fold in the fabric. As for that butler, Luther…well, I guess he could’ve really been born that way. Anything can happen when you’re born.’

“Well, since you’ve finished your tea, would you like to see the room you’ll be staying in?” Aunt Estella asked.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” I replied.

She rose from the chair and I mimicked her action. She led me up spiraling stairs that ventured almost within arm’s reach of the chandelier. As we got closer, I could hear very small voices and once we were as close as possible, I could see tiny faces on each flame. They were all doing something different. One was yelling at another while one simply slept. Then I caught one sneezing little embers and its neighbor looking around nervously at all the other flames. I stared in complete awe at them all. They were just like little kids, except they were made out of fire.

“They can be quite a racket sometimes when they get riled up. Most of the time they are quiet during the night, but they are excited today, so you may be able to hear them from your room,” she said, picking one of the flames up in her hand, it was the one that had sneezed. I was amazed that it didn’t burn her skin. It hovered right above the flesh of her palm, never making contact with it. “Theodore, I trust you will do your best to keep the volume to a minimum?” The little flame named Theodore nodded politely. She replaced the flame on its perch and turned to me. “Would you like to pick one up?”

“Oh, um, no thank you. I’ve always been told not to play with fire,” I said.

“Suit yourself,” she said as she continued to ascend the stairs. I followed her, but not before catching a last look at the little flames. I felt rather offended when I saw one of them stick it’s tongue out at me. I huffed and continued up the stairs.

Aunt Estella was standing at the door to a room at the top of the stairs. When I arrived, she said, “I hope you like this room. It was mine when I was your age.” Then she swung the door open to reveal a jungle. There were trees growing out of the floor and the walls. Grass acted as a natural carpet and a hammock was tied between two thick trees.

I gasped. It was just like one of my favorite books from when I was a kid. “Oh my gosh, this is amazing,” I whispered, too shocked to speak any louder.

“Good, I’ll have Luther bring up your luggage in a minute. Go ahead and make yourself at home,” she said and with that she left down the stairs. I ran in and jumped on the hammock, feeling like I was five again and not 12 as it swung back and forth. I gazed up at the ceiling that was somehow a sky. It was just like the sky outside today, gray and boring. ‘Maybe that’s the real sky,’ I thought, ‘Hope it doesn’t rain soon if it is.’

“Why hello there,” a voice greeted me from the corner of the room. I rose to a sitting position on the hammock and looked around to every corner of the room. I saw a rather large book lying down in the grass. It was open to a page with some sort of drawing on it.

“Who’s there?” I called.

“I’m Gilbert. Would you mind closing me, so I can see you?” he asked. I walked carefully over to the book, the grass tickling my feet gently. I knelt down and turned the cover over on top of the other pages. It was a leather cover with an intricate design on it made of imprints and creases. The creases began to move and form a face. There were two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. I gasped lightly, but afterward I wondered why since I had seen many things like this today. “Ah! You must be Lydia! It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You’re a book,” I stated, mainly to myself.

“Yes, ma’am. I hope you’ll grow to like me. Madam Estella asked me to be your companion,” Gilbert explained.

“I’m going to be friends with a book?” I asked.

“If you choose to, yes,” he replied.

“You’re made of leather and paper,” I continued.

“You’re really hung up on the whole book thing aren’t you?” he said, “Look, just because I’m a talking book doesn’t mean I’m less of a person than anybody else here.”

“But you aren’t a person, you’re a book!” I shouted.

“Yes, I am a book. Just because I’m not made out of flesh and blood like I assume you are doesn’t make me not a person. I act and think just like normal people do. Besides, I’m sure you’ve met a talking book before. Personally I think all books have voices,” Gilbert said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you’ve read a book before, haven’t you?” I nodded in response. “I bet that book had a voice. It told you a story didn’t it?” I nodded again. “See? You have to speak to tell a story.”

“But what about pictures? Pictures can tell a story too,” I said.

“Yes, they can, but they also speak. They‘re just harder to hear. They whisper their story while books practically yell it at you. That’s why some people don’t understand pictures,” he said.

“Oh, that actually makes some sense,” I said, “So, Gilbert, is this mansion actually magic?”

“Yes, ma’am. This mansion is absolutely enchanted. Neat, isn’t it?” he said.

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” I said, the weight of everything that had happened falling on my shoulders.

“That wasn’t a very confident answer. Are you not amazed by everything here?” he asked in a very caring and gentle tone.

“No, it’s all amazing, but I don’t understand it. It’s all so far out of my grasp,” I said, not even really knowing what I was saying.

“That’s what magic is, Lydia. Magic is something that can’t be explained with science or reason, only emotion. Magic is a feeling and a force that creates unbelievable sights and sensations. Magic is perhaps one of the best things on this earth,” he said and I felt like if he could be patting my back right now he would be.

“Yeah, but I just don’t know what to think of it all,” I said.

“So don’t think of it. Just let it happen. That’s the best way to feel magic, you know?” he smiled.

“Alright,” I said, starting to feel better, “I probably won’t ever get a chance like this again, so I better enjoy it.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said encouragingly, “Now, do you have anything you like to know about?”

“Yeah, is that ceiling or the actual sky?” I asked, looking up at the clouds that seemed so close.

“That is the ceiling, but it’s been formed to show the sky somehow. I don’t even know how. Madam Estella may be able to tell you. It’s probably her spell,” he said.

“Now there’s spells too?” I asked.

“Of course, where there are witches, there are spells,” he said.

“Witches?”

“Yes, witches,” he said as if there was nothing to not understand.

“Who’s a witch?” I asked.

“Any of the people that can come into this house is a witch or wizard,” he said.

“Wait, but that means,” I trailed off.

“Yes, that makes you a witch, Lydia,” he said happily.

“A witch…and Aunt Estella?” I asked.

“Also a witch.”

“So, you’re telling me that me and Aunt Estella are…witches?” I asked.

“Precisely.”

“Okay,” I said before a confused silence filled the room. I looked around without turning my head, hoping he would explain things further. No such luck. “So, what does that mean?”

“It means you possess magical power, obviously,” he answered.

“And I can use this ‘magical power’ to do what?” I said putting finger quotes around magical power.

“Anything! With magic, you can do anything, Lydia,” Gilbert said excitedly, smiling. I didn’t really say anything in return. I just looked straight back at him without the slightest curl on my lips. His smiled faded and he began to look concerned. “Lydia, aren’t you excited?”

“Should I be?” I asked.

“Of course! This is amazing! You just discovered that you are a witch and that you can use magic. That’s great. Only a handful of the people on earth can use magic. You can do anything! You can create waterfalls and turn the moon green! Oh, if I were a movie, I’d break out in song right now! Doesn’t this mean anything to you?” he said.

“I guess,” I shrugged.

“You guess? Lydia, why aren’t you happy?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I guess I just don’t really know what to do. Well, I know I can do anything, but I don’t know how or when or why. I don’t even really know just what exactly anything is. How far does anything reach?”

“Anything reaches the furthest part of your imagination. And you’ll learn how to use magic and when to. That’s why you’re here; for Madam Estella to teach you. But she can never teach you why. That you have to learn on your own,” he said.

“Alright, well, for now, I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’ll become excited about it when I can actually do something with magic,” I said. Then a knock on the door frame interrupted our conversation and pulled my attention away from the talking book. Luther was standing in the doorway with my suit case to his side. “Oh, thank you,” I said, kind of quietly. He snapped his fingers twice and I cocked my head to the side, not understanding his gesture.

“Alright, Luther, we’ll be down in a minute. She ought to wash up before supper,” Gilbert said to him. Luther nodded and walked off, back down the stairs, I assumed.

I turned to Gilbert. “You understand him?” I asked.

“Yes. Since he cannot speak, he snaps his fingers a certain number of times to indicate what he means. Two snaps means that the food is ready,” he explained.

“Oh, okay. I’ll have to remember that,” I said, “Should we go eat then? Oh, wait, do you eat?”

Gilbert chuckled lightly and said, “Of course, I eat, Lydia. Now, you should go wash your hands.”

“Oh, right,” I said, “Where is the bathroom?”

“It’s right down the hallway. Fourth door on the left,” he said, “Come pick me up when you’re done please.”

“Sure,” I said. Then a thought hit me. “Hey, Gilbert? The bathroom isn’t enchanted is it?”

“No,” he laughed, “Madam Estella has taken all of the magic out of the bathrooms for that purpose.”

I sighed in relief and left the room. I turned left and counted the doors until I found the fourth. Opening the door, I was happy to see that the bathroom was completely normal. It was mainly white and had a shower, toilet, and counter top with a sink. It was pleasantly ordinary. I walked over to the sink and turning the handle on the right, water poured out of the faucet calmly. I washed my hands fairly thoroughly and turned the sink off. I walked back to my room and picked up Gilbert. Then we walked down the stairs and I realized I didn’t know where the kitchen was either.

“Uh, Gilbert?” I said.

“It’s this room right here, just turn right,” he said, seeming to read my mind.

I giggled a little a bit and said thank you as I walked through the door way into a room with a polished wooden floor and enormous, flower shaped light. There was a long table set up with Aunt Estella sitting at the very far end. Many other chairs were set up with a plate and glass before each one.

“Ah, Lydia and Gilbert please sit,” she said.

“Oh, right, where do you want to sit, Gilbert?” I asked.

“I’ll sit on either side of you,” he said.

“Oh, okay, where do I sit?” I asked.

“Sit opposite me, dear, at the end,” Aunt Estella said, gesturing to the seat closest to me.

“Oh, alright,” I said as I sat Gilbert down to my left in the chair. Then I pulled my chair out and sat down in it.

Several other creatures joined us at the table as well. They were all sorts of things, including an ostrich, a skeleton wearing a pretty green dress, a three foot tall flower, and a stick person who looked like it had been drawn somehow with a crayon. Once everybody had sat down, Aunt Estella rose and said, “Residents of the ever immortal Lucerne Manor, I would like you to meet our newest guest, Lydia Asphodel. Please give her a warm welcome and offer her your friendship.” I could feel the blush creeping up my face as everybody turned to look at me. “Now, with that out of the way, I will turn things over to our lovely wait staff and wish you an excellent meal.”

Then countless waitresses marched in a single file line into the room. I examined them closely and saw that they weren’t like other waitresses I’d seen. They all had light greyish skin and black button eyes. There were stitches holding their limbs together where I had joints and they all had hair that looked like yarn. Each of them had a different hair color, ranging from white to black. Some of them even had two toned hair. They all had the exact same haircut, about chin length with bangs that ran straight across their foreheads. They all wore the same dress as well which was a short dress in whatever color their hair was with small, puffy sleeves and a white or black apron over it. Each of them carried a silver tray with a large egg on it. I wondered if the eggs were the ostrich’s.

A waitress with lime green hair approached me. “Hello, Miss Lydia,” she said, bowing, “My name is Alchemilla. I will be your server while you stay here.”

“Alchemilla? That’s a pretty name,” I said, quietly as I stared into her black button eyes.

“I am honored by your compliment, miss. Now, your dinner is ready,” she said, bowing again to show her gratitude I guess. She rose and set the silver tray on the table next to me. She took the egg in both hands, one on top of the egg and the other supporting the bottom. Holding it horizontally just above my plate, she pulled on the ends of the egg, it giving way and popping like those plastic Easter eggs into two. A full meal consisting of a grilled chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and green beans fell from the egg and landed gracefully on my plate. I was stunned and my jaw dropped yet again.

“Does the meal appear to be to your liking?” she asked politely, picking up the tray with the egg shell on it and holding one arm firmly behind her back.

“Yes, it looks great. Thank you,” I replied, not really knowing what to say about a meal that was just hatched from an egg.

“I’m pleased to hear that. Now what can I get you for your beverage, miss?” she asked.

“Oh, um, milk please,” I said.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Then she turned and left for a minute. I took the opportunity to look at everybody else’s meals. The ostrich was eating thick, juicy worms, the giant flower ate seeds, the skeleton ate spaghetti that draped around its bones as it swallowed the noodles, the stick person ate stick fish that also lacked color, and I saw Aunt Estella taking a spoonful of some sort of white soup. But the meal that really fascinated me was Gilbert’s. His plate was not filled with food like I expected but was instead filled with words. He opened his mouth and they jumped in. I read them as they went and soon discovered that they were telling a story. They read; We lived atop a grassy cliff that stood watching over the ocean like a mother watching her child. It was just the two of us, living perfectly together in a small, yet cozy home that he had built just for us. Though, we were not married. The fact that we had yet to marry failed to bother either of us. We knew that we’d be married at some point, but we simply lacked the money. Some day we knew we’d be together forever and that was all that mattered to us.

“Gilbert, are you eating a story?” I asked.

“Why, yes, and quite a delicious one. It’s about two lovers,” he said, happily.

“I see,” I said. ‘Well, Lydia, I suppose that makes sense that a book would eat words,’ I thought.

Then Alchemilla reappeared with a pitcher of milk and filled my glass with it. Then she bowed for the third time, saying, “If there is anything else you desire, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Oh, sure,” I said before she disappeared. I turned to my food and began eating. It was all so delicious, the chicken, the potatoes, the green beans. They had been cooked to perfection and tasted as if they were made by angels. It didn’t take very long for them to disappear and as if on cue, Alchemilla checked in on me.

“Was everything to your liking, miss?” she asked, almost sounding delicate by how soft her voice was.

“Yes, it was delicious. Thank you,” I said, beginning to grow curious about my waitress.

“Would you like anything for dessert, miss?”

“Yeah, I’d like some answers,” I said. She waited in silence for me to continue. “How did you know when I was done eating?”

“Rag dolls have that sense, miss, making us perfect waitresses.”

“So, you’re a rag doll?”

“Yes, miss,” she bowed.

“And the rest of them? Rag dolls too?”

“Yes, miss.”

“I see,” I said, “So, how did you get your name? It’s very interesting.”

“Madam Estella blessed me with my name when she created me.”

“Aunt Estella created you? How?” I asked.

“Magic. Only the madam really knows.”

“Oh, right. So what does Alchemilla mean then?”

“It’s a flower, miss, a green flower to be exact. Green like my hair. All of the rag dolls are named after flowers according to the color of our hair.”

“That’s so cool,” I said. Turning my head to Gilbert, I saw his waitress had snow white hair. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Chamomile, miss.”

“And her?” I said, pointing to a rag doll with blazing orange hair.

“Freesia, miss.”

“Why do you always call me miss? My name’s Lydia,” I said.

“My apologies, miss.”

“See, you just did it again,” I stopped her, “Call me Lydia. We’re friends, right? Friends call each other by their first names.”

“Yes…Lydia,” she said, her stitched mouth curving into a smile.

After dinner, Aunt Estella informed me that should was going to listen to some music and invited me to join her. I took the opportunity happily and scooped up Gilbert. I followed her into the front room where we sat and drank our tea what seemed like days ago but was really only an hour or two. She sat down in her chair and I sat in what I figured would become mine.

“Eleanor, dear,” she said, looking at the piano, “Would you play us a tune?”

The piano hopped once almost giddily, landing with a thud. Its keys began to rise and fall in what seemed to me a random order, but to a musician, music. I studied the piano in awe as it played on its own, no help needed. It played a soft, relaxing tune that almost sounded childish in a way, like a lullaby. Soon, I heard a chorus of small voices singing along with the music and looking above me, found that the little fires on the chandelier were the ones singing. It sounded very cute, but wasn’t really my style of music.

The piano, Eleanor, continued to play slow, quiet songs for about 20 minutes before I whispered to Gilbert, “Does it play anything but slow songs?” Apparently hearing me, it slammed multiple keys down at once making a sound like something falling over. It turned away from us and pouted in the corner if I piano can even do that.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Gilbert said.

“Huh? What did I do?”

“You made that comment about slow songs. She’s very sensitive, you know. We’ll be lucky if she plays anything for a week.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t tell that to me. Go apologize to her.” Gilbert tilted his head toward the piano.

I set him down on the chair gently after I had gotten up from it. I walked cautiously over to the piano, rubbing my hands. “I-I’m sorry, piano. I didn’t mean it personally. I just like fast songs is all.”

The piano made another crashing type of noise with even more keys this time.

“You really do sound good, so I apologize for my comment. Can we start fresh? My name’s Lydia and I’d like to hear you play,” I smiled, leaning down to it.

It turned skeptically toward me as if looking at me to determine whether I meant my words or not. I kept up the innocent smile I use at school when teachers talk to me and it eventually returned to its original position and began playing, faster this time. It played a quick song that sounded like a rabbit hopping through a beautiful forest. I smiled honestly when I heard the song and thoroughly enjoyed listening to it.

Eleanor played a few more songs and then it had gotten to be pretty late, so Aunt Estella suggested that I take a bath and go to bed. I carried Gilbert upstairs to the jungle that was my bedroom. I took out a pair of pajama bottoms from my suit case and walked into the bathroom. The bath water was hot and soothed my skin. I sat in the tub longer than I probably should have and thought things over. ‘Is this place actually magic?’ I thought to myself, looking up at the ceiling. I couldn’t come to a conclusion. My heart and every fiber in my being except for my brain said yes. But then my brain said definitely not. I didn’t know what to believe. People always say follow your instincts, but where do instincts come from? The brain? Or the heart? I didn’t know that either and frustration set in. The only thing keeping me from being frustrated my whole life was the fact that I found answers to my troubles. But there was no immediate answer to this. ‘This’ wasn’t even some kind of constant variable. It was changing every second, surprising me with its new fantasies or tricks. ‘I’ll explore tomorrow. I’ll get answers to this. I’m sure this is all just complex science.’