Touchstone... (very rough draft, please let me know what you think...)

“My precious Jade...” she heard it clearer than any statement she’d ever heard in her life. The voice was deep, sultry and unmistakably masculine... a voice that was both strange and hauntingly familiar. Calling to her from some faraway place. Jade took a deep breath, there was nobody here. Olivia was arriving any minute. There were things to do. It was an inconvenient time to go crazy. 

Of course it was raining, as it had been all week. Another dark, gloomy night spent staring restlessly out the big picture window of this eerie, old house. The weather was getting to her. Jade sighed in frustration. So was this creepy gothic travesty of a house which Olivia had invited her to, somewhere in the most backwater, godforsaken part of Louisiana. “A beautiful former plantation.” Olivia had said “Surrounded by oak trees,  crystal streams and acres of beautiful gardens.” Naturally, she had forgotten to mention the almost utter isolation, the cemetery on the property and the blasted, blasted  weather. Jade was thoroughly annoyed. She could have been looking out into the calm seas of the pacific ocean, feeling the cool breeze and soft whisper of the waves on her beautiful California Coast. Instead she had this. 

Not knowing why, she pressed her face against the window pane. Through the torrents of rain, she watched the trees cast sinister shadows on the sodden grounds. The stream glowed darkly in the distance and the lights from the house shone faintly as it was swallowed by the darkness outside. The rhythmic drumming of the rain against the glass and wood had long ago ceased to be soothing. Now, it felt like a hammer pounding against her overwrought brain. Where the hell was Olivia? From across the room, the big black grandfather clock chimed midnight making Jade jump up in fright. The witching hour... she thought dryly a reluctant smile forming at the corner of her mouth. How very appropriate for this house. Slowly, she glanced around. The crackling fire in the elaborately carved fireplace brought some measure of warmth to the dark wood panelling, velvet drapes and heavy antique furnishings that filled the room. The rest of the house had pretty much the same look. Dark wood floors, silk wallpaper, and inlaid wood panels. Then, there was the slightly creaking spiral staircases and those paintings... God, those paintings! Jade suppressed a shiver and sank gracefully into an embroidered chaise. Everywhere she looked were paintings... mostly female, as if the house itself was an altar of sorts for its former inhabitants. All over, there were gilded gold frames with painted faces studying her with curious eyes. Seemingly wanting to communicate, ask a question... rasp out a tale or two. They hinted at scandal, intrigue and a menace she could not fully explain. It made her uneasy. It was a story that she wanted no part of. Jade liked fluffy romance novels, mostly set in some bright and sunny place with the perennial happily ever after that she so desperately wanted herself. She had no desire to dabble in the mysterious, scary, silent scream a story set here seemed to promise. That was Olivia’s realm. Olivia, with her twisted tales of ghosts and goblins on dark stormy nights such as these. Olivia who insisted they dress up in period costume yesterday and commune with the weeping willow outside as it held her in thrall with some ancient spell. Olivia belonged in this house, she had settled right in and had started her as of yet, untitled, novel. 

Tomorrow she would tell Olivia she was going back to California, Jade decided. She would appeal to Olivia’s sense of adventure and invite her to go to San Francisco with her. The thought put her in a slightly better mood. Yet she could not shake the feeling that there was something she needed to remember. Some memory she should jot down before she forgot. Reluctantly, she glanced at her journal. Still no Olivia. Perhaps she had decided to stay in town rather than drive in this rain. 

Jade paced. This place was driving her crazy. Her overactive imagination was certainly working overtime.  In the meantime she needed to calm down. Grabbing her journal she threw herself on the giant four poster bed and wrote. She wrote without thinking. Scribbled without feeling. Her intent was no longer to tell a story but merely to write... and write she did. Words came in quick succession filling the dark, rainy hours with page after page, after page. With a wildly driven desperation that she neither understood or knew she possessed. As time flew in perfect rhythm with her pen, the rain splattered and the cold wind howled outside her window. Until exhausted she falls into a troubled sleep.

“My precious Jade...” his voice haunted even her dreams. There was to be no respite. Somehow, she saw herself standing still in front of the window, staring out into the rain, again. Then slowly, softly, he appeared from behind her. His strong arms wrapping possessively around her waist. His sensuous mouth finding her ear. Whispering wicked thoughts that she dared never express. Every dark secret was hidden no longer. Every fleeting detail from every fantasy she ever had. His hold tightened and his voice took on an almost savage edge. From somewhere appeared a blindfold. It went around her eyes, yet surprisingly did not take away her vision. Rather, it heightened it. She saw images so crisp, she knew without question that this was no dream. He bid her let go... of fear, of propriety of all coherent thought. Her halfhearted struggle was gently but firmly restrained before it even started. His rough voice, his piercing gaze, his burning touch branded her his, as she had never been anyone else’s. She did not even know his name. A sigh escaped her, she was shaking as he deliberately swept her off her feet. “Pierre... He whispered, ... have you forgotten so soon?”

***

“Good morning, Sunshine...” Pierre smiled at his beautiful wife as she finally opened her big brown eyes. He had been watching her sleep for what seemed like hours. Olivia smiled back. “When did you get here?” Pierre stared at her puzzled. “We arrived together, last night.” The laugh in her voice told him he was being totally ridiculous. “Honey, I’ve been here all week.” He was in no mood for games. “You were in New York working all week, your editor took us to the airport yesterday, we almost missed out flight.” Why was she looking at him as if he was crazy?... 

“Where’s Jade?...” she asked suddenly, “... did she go back to California...?” Pierre sighed in frustration, who the hell was Jade? He was worried about Olivia. She spent so much time writing stories they became part of her. “Jade left me her journal, I didn’t get a chance to read it... she kept asking me to go with her.” Pierre shook his head. Olivia’s doctor had assured him that she was fine. Olivia, her shrink had said, had very clear touchstones between her stories and her life. Listening to her right now he had serious doubts. But she had never acted like this before. Olivia was using her considerable storytelling abilities to describe all the little details of the house and grounds, as if she had in fact been here exploring all week, instead of arriving late last night. She was very convincing. In fact, had he not arrived with her last night, he would have believed every word. She also seemed to have a whole history on this Jade person, little miss sunshine from California. His mind started to wander when Olivia launched into a full character analysis and physical description about her perfect little friend. “Sweetie... Pierre interrupted gently, ....there’s only one girl I’m interested in right now.” He kissed her tenderly. Then made a mental note to call her doctor after breakfast. His gaze softened as he touched her hair and took in the scent of her lavender perfume. Her took a moment to study her upturned face. Predictably, she flashed him the smile he fell in love with and dragged him to an open window to look out at the magnificent view. 

They stood there awhile, just staring out the window. She at the little gazebo in the distance. He at the rock garden directly below. She had become perfectly quiet as he held his arm protectively around her. Her head leaning trustingly against his left shoulder. In the stillness, he could hear her heartbeat. 

“Pierre...” he heard her voice clearer than anything he had ever heard in his life. It was seductive, feminine and definitely not Olivia’s. Calling to him from far away... both strange and hauntingly familiar. A chill run up his spine. “Pierre...” He heard her voice again, invading his thoughts, searching for an answer, pleading. “Pierre... No...” It was too late. 

With practiced ease, he grabbed Olivia. Then carefully, deliberately, and in one fluid movement, he turned her to face him and pushed her out the open window. For a split second their eyes met, hers widening in shock. The last thing he heard was her scream mixed with the other voices already screaming in his head.

Impassively, he watched her fall to her death below. There would be no need to call her doctor. After breakfast, he would start on her painting.