Dr Chuks Quaker's Residence, 4011 High Parks, Maryland.
The giant gates glided apart like two ballet dancers skating on ice. The little Morris Minohr, 1890 model, drove on the clay etched driveway, hidden by Sequoia trees, standing everywhere like ghosts.
"Wow," screamed Ogechi, her eyes sparkling. "Look at those," she said, pointing at dancing butterflies trailing their rear. "Aren't they beautiful. I want this souvenir too."
Their chauffeur pressed a button, the roof of the car rose, and crumpled. She stood on her seat, and took snap shots. Then she showed the photos to others.
"Beautiful," screamed Anglicien.
They giggled, laughed, making fairytales and jokes. Then they arrived at the second gates. The steels slided apart again. The car drove in. After a long run, they sighted a magnificent 17th century castle, standing on a low hill, glimmering in the sunset.
"Oh," gasped Juliette. "Blooming flowers! Beautiful. I love the roses. Aren't they beautiful."
"Sweet fragrance," murmured Anglicien. She lifted up her nose to catch the whiffs. Then her camera started clicking at the flowers, the carpet grass, and shrubs. And at the chirping birds, swooping and tumbling in the sky.
The little car halted before a double oakwood door. Their chauffeur alighted and opened the doors. The teens came down, and climbed the stairs to the big house.
"Hello," welcomed the butler.
"Good evening, Mr Eme," they chorus.
"Come this way, Christen is waiting for you."
They held up their long flowing dresses and followed him.
They took the long, white corridor lined by exotic flowers. Overhead were bright multicoloured chandeliers hanging on white ceramic ceiling.
The girls were in their best moods, tattering, and smiling cheekily. Adored in gowns and hats and shoes. Each one in her favourite colour had a tweeny gold watch, earrings and brackets. Anglicien in mauve colours, plaited her hair backwards. Juliette in light pink, had a pony hair. While Ogechi in maroon, had her hair knotted up with ribbon.
They took the right door, and came into a lounge. Dr Chuks Quaker and his wife, Chinne-Catherine, were sitting by the foyer. On a little stool were half filled glass and a bottle of grape wine. Chinne- Catherine was reading a magazine. Her husband, legs crisscrossed, was in deep thoughts, sipping wine.
"Hello, ladies! You look pretty," hollered Dr Chuks Quaker.
"Please come in girls. Have your seat," said Chinne-Catherine
"Thank you, Dr and Mrs Quaker," they said, held their gowns, and bowed.
"Christen! Christen," hollered Dr Chuks Quaker. "You friends are here. Waiting!"
"Don't worry, Dr Quaker. I'll fetch her," said Anglicien.
She lifted her gown off the floor, and took a flight of stairs to the landing. Then walked down a curved inner balcony facing a hanging giant aquarium and cluster of flowers. Then she knocked on a light red door. There was no sound. She pushed it gently. It rolled backward. She stepped inside.
"Christen! Christen!"
There was no reply.
"Christen, I"m not in the mood for any pranks. We are late for the party."
There was no reply. She opened the rest room. Lavender and rose flower fragrance hit her senses. She closed it back. Then she pulled open the wardrobe door. She was not in there. Scared, goose pimples came on her skin. Panic stricken, she ran back to the landing.
"Dr Quaker, Christen is not here," she gasped.
Chinne-Catherine started up. Dr Chuks Quakers ran ahead. Then scuttled upstairs, as fast as his weight and Septuagint age could carry him. He rushed into her daughter's room.
"Chrisy, Chrisy," he hollered, searching for her everywhere.
"Our bedroom! Christen can be funny," said Chinne-Catherine.
She dashed to the master's bed. After a while she came back to the landing, looking lost. Few minutes ago her daughter and she had chosen what to wear for the party. She looked at Christen's bed. Her hat, earrings, bracelet, and hand gloves were lying there.
"Where is Christen? Where is she," she screamed at her husband.
"The Windows are open," he muttered, and went closer. The drapes had been shifted on their rails. And stained by mud. He looked down at the garden below. He saw something unusual.
Footsteps...broken flowers, he thought.
"Oh, my God," he yelled, and hurried downstairs toward the garden.
"I'll get the police," cried Chinne-Catherine
copyright
©mystorypad360
28th October, 2019.
The giant gates glided apart like two ballet dancers skating on ice. The little Morris Minohr, 1890 model, drove on the clay etched driveway, hidden by Sequoia trees, standing everywhere like ghosts.
"Wow," screamed Ogechi, her eyes sparkling. "Look at those," she said, pointing at dancing butterflies trailing their rear. "Aren't they beautiful. I want this souvenir too."
Their chauffeur pressed a button, the roof of the car rose, and crumpled. She stood on her seat, and took snap shots. Then she showed the photos to others.
"Beautiful," screamed Anglicien.
They giggled, laughed, making fairytales and jokes. Then they arrived at the second gates. The steels slided apart again. The car drove in. After a long run, they sighted a magnificent 17th century castle, standing on a low hill, glimmering in the sunset.
"Oh," gasped Juliette. "Blooming flowers! Beautiful. I love the roses. Aren't they beautiful."
"Sweet fragrance," murmured Anglicien. She lifted up her nose to catch the whiffs. Then her camera started clicking at the flowers, the carpet grass, and shrubs. And at the chirping birds, swooping and tumbling in the sky.
The little car halted before a double oakwood door. Their chauffeur alighted and opened the doors. The teens came down, and climbed the stairs to the big house.
"Hello," welcomed the butler.
"Good evening, Mr Eme," they chorus.
"Come this way, Christen is waiting for you."
They held up their long flowing dresses and followed him.
They took the long, white corridor lined by exotic flowers. Overhead were bright multicoloured chandeliers hanging on white ceramic ceiling.
The girls were in their best moods, tattering, and smiling cheekily. Adored in gowns and hats and shoes. Each one in her favourite colour had a tweeny gold watch, earrings and brackets. Anglicien in mauve colours, plaited her hair backwards. Juliette in light pink, had a pony hair. While Ogechi in maroon, had her hair knotted up with ribbon.
They took the right door, and came into a lounge. Dr Chuks Quaker and his wife, Chinne-Catherine, were sitting by the foyer. On a little stool were half filled glass and a bottle of grape wine. Chinne- Catherine was reading a magazine. Her husband, legs crisscrossed, was in deep thoughts, sipping wine.
"Hello, ladies! You look pretty," hollered Dr Chuks Quaker.
"Please come in girls. Have your seat," said Chinne-Catherine
"Thank you, Dr and Mrs Quaker," they said, held their gowns, and bowed.
"Christen! Christen," hollered Dr Chuks Quaker. "You friends are here. Waiting!"
"Don't worry, Dr Quaker. I'll fetch her," said Anglicien.
She lifted her gown off the floor, and took a flight of stairs to the landing. Then walked down a curved inner balcony facing a hanging giant aquarium and cluster of flowers. Then she knocked on a light red door. There was no sound. She pushed it gently. It rolled backward. She stepped inside.
"Christen! Christen!"
There was no reply.
"Christen, I"m not in the mood for any pranks. We are late for the party."
There was no reply. She opened the rest room. Lavender and rose flower fragrance hit her senses. She closed it back. Then she pulled open the wardrobe door. She was not in there. Scared, goose pimples came on her skin. Panic stricken, she ran back to the landing.
"Dr Quaker, Christen is not here," she gasped.
Chinne-Catherine started up. Dr Chuks Quakers ran ahead. Then scuttled upstairs, as fast as his weight and Septuagint age could carry him. He rushed into her daughter's room.
"Chrisy, Chrisy," he hollered, searching for her everywhere.
"Our bedroom! Christen can be funny," said Chinne-Catherine.
She dashed to the master's bed. After a while she came back to the landing, looking lost. Few minutes ago her daughter and she had chosen what to wear for the party. She looked at Christen's bed. Her hat, earrings, bracelet, and hand gloves were lying there.
"Where is Christen? Where is she," she screamed at her husband.
"The Windows are open," he muttered, and went closer. The drapes had been shifted on their rails. And stained by mud. He looked down at the garden below. He saw something unusual.
Footsteps...broken flowers, he thought.
"Oh, my God," he yelled, and hurried downstairs toward the garden.
"I'll get the police," cried Chinne-Catherine
copyright
©mystorypad360
28th October, 2019.
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