THE OLD-AGED ICON

I stopped before a full-length old house. It had a strange design and an unnatural build. It had old shuttered windows that had faltered, and I thought, looked down upon me.

The walls showed markings and cracks, and the balcony was prominent on one of the upper floors. The house seemed paranormal, and a woman of advanced years lived there.

A lady from an upper-class social group invited me in. In her letter, she informed me that she had read many of my books and became interested in the subject. I was an author and investigator of the haunted houses. When I met her for the first time, I was a bit surprised. I noticed the movements of her pale, long arm were elegant. Her voice appeared to have natural articulation, like a musical sound, which showed in her tone. She was a lady of serenity and composure, and her countenance established her as a lady with many charms. I noticed she had a beautiful face, which left me utterly affected. Those large, profound blue eyes were very perceptible, and the face under her long white hair was staring at me and did so for a long time.

 

I noticed she always bent her head with an apparent purpose. She was trying to conceal some painful emotions, too. For the space of a minute, I had to gaze vacantly at the sudden innocence of her smooth forehead. The luscious, exquisite red lips were perfect.  Yet, there was a change in her demeanour.

I was astounded by this lady's presence. It made me wonder how one so beautiful is so old. I tried to withdraw my eyes from her face, but she was lovely. Yet every time she looked at me, her eyes seemed younger despite her long hair flowing over her eyebrows. My connection with her was becoming uncomfortable. She wore a low-neckline blue dress with a pattern of yellow floral leaves, from which her body changed presence.

I was there for nearly three-quarters of an hour, and from all that time, all she talked about was her youth. How much she was in love with an officer of the Guards and how she was ever so contented.

She paced up and down the joint library and parlour. She wasn't restless, but I knew she had something to talk about for me. I thought I was ready for the mystery she was hiding. A faint light came from a large, dimmed chandelier, strongly marking her face with vivid relief of her old beauty. Yet there was something else, and I couldn't hold my excitement, astonishment, and fear all mingled into one. I stared at her face again! An exceedingly strange thing happened to her old face, which seemed to me that she had cloned a mask when I was not looking at her. It changed the heavy wrinkles, the skin became smooth, and that old, aged face disappeared. It changed into an appearance of youth and was very sexy. I looked in dismay and could not utter one word. This changed lady was my host, but she had the face of a woman fifty years younger. This metamorphosis was unexplainable; she became more and more beautiful from the first time I met her.