From inside the castle walls, it’s quiet. Plush carpet muffles the hallways. The walls are thick, overstuffed with insulation. The occasional ding of elevators is all that can be heard.
It is peaceful.
There are no windows in the hallways, either, which makes me feel strange and even a little claustrophobic as I walk through the halls alone. Simple, sleek lamps light the way. There are rows of doors unevenly spaced along the corridors. They are tall, nine feet tall, and painted brown, each framed by elegant white moldings. On one side, the doors are marked with even numbers. On the other side, the doors are marked with odd numbers. The odd numbers skip 13.
Though I can’t see the sun, I know it’s setting. My stomach tells me it’s setting. I’m on an errand, though, and I don’t want to stop and go home until I’ve finished. It’s an easy enough errand: check on a room to see if it’s ready to show future residents. The queen of this castle gave me this errand herself with a wink.
“Good evening!” calls a cheerful Canadian voice behind me. Because in this cheerful castle, passing in the hall without eye contact or a verbal greeting is unthinkable. I turn to see John and his wife May behind me in the hallway. They are coming in from watching the sunset on the building’s rooftop terrace. John was in the Canadian Navy and his wife was a part of the government human resources division. Both of them are old now, well past retirement age, and enjoying their lives here in this resort quality environment. There are steps are slow, and John even has a walker. But their wit is sharp, they love to laugh, and they are unfailingly kind.
“I’m going to penthouse C,” I say. “Would you like to join me?”
“What’s in the penthouse C?” John inquires briskly.
“I’m not sure. The queen said it was a very unique floor plan,” I respond. They turn to accompany me.
We continue down the hall until we get to the door marked penthouse C. I pull out my large gold master key, which, frighteningly enough, unlocks every single door in the building, and fumble with the lock. The door creaks open and I find myself in this castle’s strangest apartment yet.
It’s like stepping off into space. There are windows all around. The view is breathtaking. The sunset (which I knew was happening, but didn’t have any visual evidence for) stretches out beyond the windows and a great riot of purple and orange and red. I can see over the rooftops and turrets. And the birds! There are huge birds, crows, wheeling around the windows in an amazing aerial display.
“I didn’t know there was a view this good in the whole castle,” I say, looking out.
“Neither did we!” says John’s wife, laughing. “We live right next door, but we don’t have anything like this!”
We stand and watch the birds a while. It’s like something out of a fantasy movie. The crows have huge wingspans and fierce eyes as they fly. They are clearly not birds to be trifled with. They don’t even trifle with each other. As we watch, when one gets too close to another, there’s a quick confrontation.
“Might feel a bit special, living up here with the birds,” John’s wife says, staring off into the horizon.
“With no one above you, this apartment would be very quiet. You could watch these birds all day, no problem,” I say.
“Quiet is all good,” says John, “but I like to have people for company too.”
“Very true,” his wife says, and laughs. “I might feel a little insane, with only birds for company. I might try flying myself.”
The birds are magnificent, stunning, extraordinary… But as we watch, they seem ever more lonely and selfish. They only seem to want to be as high as they can, and to be alone.
It is easy to aspire to the skies. To want to fly with the birds, and live in a nest as high as theirs. But I will keep my feet somewhere between the ground and these wings.
-The Dauntless Princess-
