"There is a gentle thought that often springs life in me,

because it speaks of you."

Dante Alighieri

My brothers and I rushed down the dimly lit corridor to the mouth of the Grand Staircase. We looked around, confused where to go next. Frustrated, I slapped my hand over my forehead. “Aye Dios mio,” I muttered. “Why does this always happen when I’m with you two?” Senovio gave me a sassy look. He placed his hands on his hips and moved his head in a barrio way. “Ah, excuse me hija,” he replied in this high pitch Gabriel Iglesias kind of voice. He sounded offended by my “choice of words.”

“At least I was educating you on the history of this mansion,” he finished.

“Oh, stop with that ridiculous voice,” I replied, irritated.

I turned around and stared at the corridor on the far right. It stood there in utter silence. The lights were dim and the candles had no brightness. I stared at darkness of the hall, watching the flames go in and out. I took a step forward and narrowed my eyes. I could feel my lips purse in a tight, thin line. My head tilted to the side, revealing my curiosity. There was a soft hum that entered my ears. A soothing rhythm that caused my pulse to quicken. “La da da dum....” the voice crooned. “La da da da....la da...la da... la da da...”

The voice sounded hollow and pained, almost as if the singer was dying inside. I took another step and another step and another step. And then I saw it. A woman dressed all in white, holding a seven-branched candelabrum. “Earth to Carmen!” Senovio called out to me, pulling me by the shoulder. I let out a chilling scream and dropped my phone. Once again, I placed my hand over my chest and turned around. My muscles tightened. Senovio smirked.

“Welcome back to earth,” he told me.

“At least I was educating you on the history of this mansion,” he finished.

“Oh, stop with that ridiculous voice,” I replied, irritated.

I stood there, blankly staring at him. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain it to him. Even if I were to say it, Senovio would tell me to 'stop playing.’ I sighed and shook my head. “It’s nothing,” I responded. “Trust me, it’s stupid.” Senovio gave me a strange look. He shrugged his shoulders and brushed it off, like every guy does. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them in place. “Alright, which way to the food room? I’m starving!”

“Dinner is in that direction,” said an old, dry voice whispering into our ears.

We all screamed in unison as we spun around, grabbing one another for dear life. Senovio and I stopped screaming, realizing it was Cristobal, the butler. We left Henry in the background, still screaming. Senovio and I looked at each other. Then we looked at Henry. We both placed a hand underneath our brother’s chin and moved it up, silencing his scream. “Sorry,” I replied, slipping my shaking hands into the back of my pockets. “We got lost, Cristobal, sir?”

The butler looked at us and raised a brow, staring with his pale cloudy eyes. “Your father, mother, and the mistress have been waiting for you,” he explained. “I will lead you to the dining room.” He spun around on his heels and led the way. About time. I thought to myself as I looked over my shoulder. When my eyes turned back towards the dimly lit hallway, an icy chill rushed down my spine once more before I followed Senovio, Henry and Cristobal to the dining room.

When we arrived at the doors of the dining room, Cristobal opened the doors before them. Our eyes met with a vast ornate candlelit dining room with a long table set for a feast. A glistening crystal chandelier decorated in thick insect infested cobwebs and dust accompanied the ceiling. A thick blanket of luxurious silk curtains covered the tall windows in colors of deep crimson red and sandwiched in between the windows was a colossal ornate fireplace that looked like it could fit an entire bedroom in it.

“Senovio,” I told him as we rushed towards the fireplace. “Have you ever seen a fireplace this big before? It’s incredible.”

“Whoa...” said Senovio, “We could make a big pot of barbacoa and some tortillas.”

“Oh, come on now,” I told him. “Just look at this detail! It’s so rich with carvings and the 2D Art is so...elaborate!”

“Oh, the “Art Historian” is coming out of her shell now," said Senovio sarcastically.

I frowned. “Montserrat would appreciate this,” I muttered.

“She has a great taste in art,” said a gentle voice behind us. Senovio and I quickly turned, meeting the owner of the soft voice. It was a woman. She smiled at us as she stepped in between me and my brother. “My grandfather Jack Baudelaire, spared no expense when he built this estate. You know your art well.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m Carmen and this bimbo here is my brother, Senovio.” I reached out my hand for a handshake. But the woman ignored my extended hand. The woman turned her gaze to Senovio and smiled. I tightened my lips together as I took back my unshaken hand. I looked over my shoulder and watched as the woman approached my brother. “Charmed to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Vargas.” Senovio looked at me and raised his brows up and down. He took the woman’s hand and kissed it. “Same goes to you, Miss...?”

“Castilla,” she told him. “Castilla Baudelaire.”

“Castilla?” Senovio asked her, confused. “As in the late...”

“Yes...as in the late Castilla Baudelaire,” she replied. “Such a tragic story that my family holds.” She smiled weakly, giving her shoulders a small shrug. To me, there was something strange about the woman. She looked similar to the woman in the painting. It could be mere coincidence, but chances like that are rather slim, unless she is a real doppelganger of her late relative. But then again, I didn’t think Castilla didn’t have any siblings. Or maybe a secret love child?

“Children,” said Cristobal, “you are keeping the Mistress and your parents waiting.” The butler seated us at the table, pulling each chair out for each sibling. I watched Castilla from my peripheral vision. I noticed that the woman was watching Senovio as he passed by her. “The Mistress was pleased that she received a notice from the Park Rangers that the estate would have visitors,” Cristobal explained. “Rarely, do we have visitors coming by anymore?”

“Where have you been?” Mom whispered in my ear.

“We got lost,” I replied, hoping that Mom wouldn’t be angry. I explained to her we were looking at the portraits and lost track of time. When we realized it was past dinner, we rushed out towards the foyer and weren’t sure where to go next. Mom understood the confusion but advised we don’t do it again. That was her first warning, and I wished I had listened to it sooner.

“Senovio,” Castilla said, breaking the silence. “What do you think of this estate? Is it to your liking?” The woman gazed at Senovio, her eyes lit like candles. Mom took notice. She set her glass of wine down and a hard look plastered onto her face. Castilla smiled at him, and Senovio looked down. I noticed Mom beginning to death grip her fork as she stabbed the bars into the middle of the baked potato repeatedly. I placed a hand over hers and Mom looked at me, confused. “You’re...you’re killing your potato,” I whispered. Mom looked at me then at her plate. She yanked the fork out the baked potato and looked around, hoping no one saw her stabbing it.

“Miss Castilla,” said Mom. The woman looked at her, smiling at her with interest. My mom smiled back. “If you don’t mind, can you tell us about this estate?” Castilla gave a small nod and leaned back in her chair. “To make it short and clear,” she began. I noticed her voice had become shaky, almost as if she didn’t want to explain. I leaned forward in my seat, my eyes glued to Castilla. “This manor is my birthright,” Castilla explained, “It’s all that I have left of the Baudelaire family. It’s a humble inheritance if I say so myself.”

I watched as Castilla turn towards me. Her eyes gazed at me. She rubbed her fingers together. “Miss Carmen, may I ask you a question?” she asked me. I sat up tall in my seat and gave a slow nod. Castilla leaned forward, her eyes still fixed on me. “Do you believe in phantoms?” said Castilla, with a tugging smirk. “Ghosts, in your language.” I froze for a moment. Something caught me off guard with Castilla’s question. In fact, I couldn’t believe that the woman would ask me such a direct question. Deep down I wanted to pinch myself to make sure that I was awake. I knew it wasn’t such a good idea. Instead, I brought my hands together and twiddled my thumbs vigorously.

“Oh, um...” I sputtered. I left Senovio unrestrained as he sat across from me enjoying the little stage show that was being presented in front of him. “Yes,” I replied, trying to regain my composure. “I believe in ghosts...ghosts are very much real, Miss Baudelaire.”

“Interesting,” Castilla replied, leaning back in her seat. “Well, it is unfortunate that I must retire early. When you are finished eating your meal, Cristobal will take you back to your bedrooms.” Castilla rose from her chair and left the room without a sound. After she left, we dined in silence, listening to the rain pour down from the sky.