Venetian Time Slip I
I ordered a book about the Mafia because I need more research for the novel, Mafia Conspiracy.
That means, I'm going to suspend Mafia Conspiracy writing for awhile but I'm writing a short story.
Here it goes.
Venetian Time Slip I
-
It was a nice Monday evening in Venice, 1749, just after supper, at the grand salon of Palazzo Celesti. A young lady at the age of 22 was there. She had thick brown locks. Its curls flowing freely down her shoulders. She didn’t have makeup on but she was indeed beautiful with her dark eyes and fair complexion. She wore a simple yet elegant dress.
She didn’t care for all those beauty products the other girls used. As long as she looked decent and presentable, nothing else matters. She didn’t need to care; after all, she was blessed with a natural beauty.
She sat there looking smart and educated. She was Carolina Celesti.
Beside her sat a girl as beautiful as she was. She was Cassandra Celesti, Carolina’s younger sister, she was 21.
Cassandra had dark eyes that sparkled, just like Carolina’s. They’re hair were different though. Cassandra’s hair was a much lighter brown as if it was heading its way to blonde.
She wore the latest fashion trend that she herself set. Her long curly hair was in a posh hairstyle. It was up in a bun but she let lose curls adorning the sides of her face.
She had a nice elegant and lady like poise as if she was a princess. Her face didn’t have much makeup, just enough to amplify her beauty. She smiled with all her charms (and it was charming, indeed) to the boy in front of her.
That boy was their cousin, Giovanni Celesti. He was a young handsome teen that had an eccentric and lively attitude. He was visiting from Rome and staying at the Palazzo Celesti for the Carnival of Venice.
“It has been proven! Time travel is possible! It happens because of a supernatural force that pulls someone to a time and place they did not originate from but they needed to be there. It simply cannot be explained! It just happens!” Giovanni rambled.
“You talk like this in Rome?” Cassandra asked.
“Yes. Don’t you believe me? There had been instances where it was proven. It was said that in Versailles, France, two women in odd clothes were sighted. In a matter of minutes, they just disappeared. In Milan, it was said that a Signore traveled by coach and as he looked out his window, as if by magic, he saw a glimpse of a large monstrous establishment made of glass and metal, from the future!” Giovanni rambled once again, eyes wide open, arms waving in the air.
“That’s dangerous talk, Giovanni. The Catholic Church might accuse you and hang you of heresy or witchcraft talk.” Cassandra said.
“I believe that the Church is there to be our guides on religion but they shouldn’t order us around on what to believe in. That simply is unfair! Everybody has a right to stand up for their beliefs. That’s true faith, not some mandatory thing.” Carolina said.
A lady who was about 40 years old entered the room. She was in a big wig and nice clothes. She wasn’t young anymore but she still looked rather, dashing. She had heavy makeup and she looked so tall and powerful, like an aristocrat.
Maria Celesti, the mistress of the household, mother of Carolina and Cassandra.
Behind her, was their head of servant (a butler, as you may say), Antonio. He was bringing with him a tray of tea and biscuits.
“Don’t stay up late, my dears. Grand Ball tomorrow in celebration of the Carnival.” Maria said.
-
Venice. Ah, Venice. Present time, Venice.
Two days at Venice was successfully squeezed in All Time Low’s busy schedule. How they did it, don’t ask but the band was glad that they somehow did. They’ve been asking for a vacation and they finally got it. When they did, they got a huge bonus of having a Venetian vacation.
Palazzo Celesti, a small Venetian hotel, was the best one the band got during a peak season, the time of the Carnival of Venice.
Dawn was nearly breaking when two gondolas on a convoy stopped in front of a large open wooden door. On top of the wooden door was a wooden sign that says, ‘Palazzo Celesti’.
The palazzo was along the Grand Canal but the main entrance was at the back through a small canal.
Alex was the first one to unload the gondola. He jumped from the gondola to the platform, over the water. Jack came next. Then Rian, then it was Zack.
When the first gondola left, the second one pulled over right in front of the entrance and two Palazzo Celesti bellboys welcomed the band and they attended to their luggage which was on the second gondola.
Behind the large wooden door was a rose garden. In the middle of the garden was a large marble fountain glistening in the sun. The garden was surrounded by a stone wall and at the end of the garden was the building. They walked across the garden to building’s grand entrance.
“This way to the lobby, sir.” One of the bellboys said. He led the way and the band, All Time Low, followed the two bellboys.
“I got it. I’ll check-in.” Alex volunteered.
“Okay.” Jack said.
Alex approached the front desk while Jack, Rian, and Zack lingered behind him.
Against the wall, a large and old portrait of a lady hung.
“Who’s that?” Alex asked pointing to the portrait.
The front desk lady turned around and looked at what he was pointing at and turns back to him. “Signora Maria Celesti. Mistress of the palazzo, founder of the hotel.”
“Wow. It’s so old.”
“Yes. So, your reservation is two rooms?”
“Yeah.” Alex confirmed.
“Okay, your rooms are 401 and 402 with a lovely view of the rosarium. Here’s the key.” The lady said handing a pair of keys in a gold keychain that had the crest of Palazzo Celesti.
“Rosarium?” Alex asked.
“Yes. The rose garden in front.” The lady said matter-of-factly.
“Don’t you have a room that has a view of the Grand Canal?” Alex asked.
“I’m sorry, sir, it’s all booked up.” The lady said apologetically.
“Never mind. It’s fine.” Alex said taking the keys.
“First floor’s the lobby and restaurant. The restaurant extends to the terrace that has a nice view of the Grand Canal. There’s also a lobby lounge and bar at the first floor. Second floor’s the ballroom. Third and fourth are the rooms. The fifth floor is the spa and indoor pool. If you get lost or something, there will be staff around to help you out. Your luggage will be sent up and enjoy your stay.”
“Thanks.” Alex said. He turned around to face Jack, Rian, and Zack. “So…”
“So, Zack’s my roommate.” Rian told Alex.
“Okay.” Alex said throwing the keys to Room 401 to Zack. They headed to a grand staircase and climbed to the fourth floor.
“We should go buy our masks for the carnival celebration tonight.” Jack suggested. It was Tuesday, Mardi Gras.
“Yeah.” Zack seconded the motion.
“Okay.” Rian and Alex said in unison.
The four then divided to go to their rooms.
Zack and Rian entered their room. The interiors, like the rest of the palazzo, were 18th century.
Nothing in the hotel was changed or redecorated, except maybe some touches to make it hotel-ish, like the spa, pool, the restaurant, and the lounge and bar. Everything was Venetian antique but it wasn’t the rickety dilapidated old house you see that’s usually haunted. Everything was beautifully and perfectly preserved.
From the furniture to the portraits, even the wallpapers. Everything was a tribute to the past.
It was a large room. A large window that had a window seat, two desks, two beds, two footlockers at the end of each bed, a fireplace, a cabinet that revealed the TV when you opened it, another cabinet that when you open revealed the mini bar, and other furniture to make the room beautiful was seen.
Rian approached the fireplace and looked at a portrait above the fireplace.
Zack, on the other hand, went in the door that leads to the bathroom.
But it wasn’t the bathroom he saw. He saw another large room, a boudoir. And the furniture in the boudoir, the trunks, the wardrobes, everything, there were two of each.
The door that led to the bathroom was made of a mirror. Thank God the bathroom had modern showers but the interiors are still ancient.
Zack went out of the boudoir. He turned on the television but he focused on his backpack. He dropped it on his bed. He took out his Polaroid camera and said to Rian, “This room is a chick’s room!”
“Zack, look at this!” Rian called. His eyes did not avert from the portrait that hung above the fireplace.
It was a portrait of four. A lovely young lady (Cassandra) that looked extravagant in a pink gown with silver embellishments. A man in a powdered wig and 18th century clothes seemed to escort her. Another lovely young lady (Carolina) that looked less extravagant in an elegant blue dress with gold linings and beside her is another man wearing the same fashion the first man was wearing. Each of them held a Venetian mask that matched their clothes.
They were standing up straight with an interior salon as their background and they were smiling as if posing for the portrait.
Zack stood up beside Rian. “What?”
“Is it just me or the men in that painting looks like us?” Rian said.
Zack narrowed his eyes to examine the portrait but he wasn’t able to because as he blinked, he felt something inside him. Rian felt it too.
They felt so sad and depressed as if they were being ripped apart from something so dear to them. They didn’t know the cause.
Suddenly, as the depression grew and the sound of the television sounded more distant, both of them realized that everything around them became unreal, lifeless, a fake. It’s as if standing in the midst of a set of a play. The windows, the beds, the furniture, the walls, everything looked as if they were cardboard.
Then, suddenly, a strong gush of cold wind blew against their faces and they felt so refreshed and revitalized. Suddenly, it was all gone, the cardboard set, the depression. It was as if they were a new person.
Rian kept on staring at the portrait. It was a different portrait, now. It was outdoors at the Grand Canal. The two women from the previous portrait were the subjects of the new one and the two men were gone.
They wore simpler clothes. Carolina was now wearing a brown Brunswick driving a gondola. Cassandra, in a mantua, was the passenger of the gondola reading a book Carolina wrote.
Zack looked around. He didn’t realize that he was still holding his Polaroid.
The beds weren’t made. The windows were open. There was a chill wind that came in but not as cold as the wind that blew against their faces. The curtains were different and were drawn aside to let the sun in.
The sheets were different and Rian’s bed had lumps in it.
The clean desks had lots of paper on it with a quill dipped on ink. It was as if someone stayed in the room and housekeeping forgot to clean it.
Of course housekeeping didn’t clean it. They were in a different universe.
There was no housekeeping.
The restaurant was now a salon.
The lobby lounge and bar was now a great hall and dining area.
Some of the rooms on the third floor were for the servants and there were a few guest rooms left.
A library was now where the indoor pool was.
The spa was a recreation centre. It had a music room, a studio and such.
Rian blinked a few times. He rubbed his eyes and kept staring at the portrait. He didn’t see what was around him; all he did was to stare at the portrait. What was happening? Did he make a mistake the first time? Did he imagine the first portrait or was it the second portrait that he’s imagining?
Was he drunk? Did he drink? Not that he recalled. Maybe he overdosed on some medication. But then, he didn’t have medications of any sort. Did he take drugs? Not that he recalled either. He continued to examine the portrait.
Zack was getting dizzy. He looked around him. He was hallucinating, that’s for sure. He was confused. He couldn’t explain what just happen because he wouldn’t dare. He would take aside and ignore every non-logical explanation. He wouldn’t believe any of it.
Then, Carolina went out of the boudoir wearing nothing but her chemise and corset. She saw Zack and Rian. Her eyes were enlarged and she yelled of pure surprise.
Carolina ran back in the boudoir and slammed the door.
Cassandra, who was sleeping at one of the beds that Zack thought was lumpy, sat up. She was half asleep but once she saw what the yell was all about, she woke up fully.
Cassandra yelled as she pulled up the covers to cover her body.
-
That means, I'm going to suspend Mafia Conspiracy writing for awhile but I'm writing a short story.
Here it goes.
Venetian Time Slip I
-
It was a nice Monday evening in Venice, 1749, just after supper, at the grand salon of Palazzo Celesti. A young lady at the age of 22 was there. She had thick brown locks. Its curls flowing freely down her shoulders. She didn’t have makeup on but she was indeed beautiful with her dark eyes and fair complexion. She wore a simple yet elegant dress.
She didn’t care for all those beauty products the other girls used. As long as she looked decent and presentable, nothing else matters. She didn’t need to care; after all, she was blessed with a natural beauty.
She sat there looking smart and educated. She was Carolina Celesti.
Beside her sat a girl as beautiful as she was. She was Cassandra Celesti, Carolina’s younger sister, she was 21.
Cassandra had dark eyes that sparkled, just like Carolina’s. They’re hair were different though. Cassandra’s hair was a much lighter brown as if it was heading its way to blonde.
She wore the latest fashion trend that she herself set. Her long curly hair was in a posh hairstyle. It was up in a bun but she let lose curls adorning the sides of her face.
She had a nice elegant and lady like poise as if she was a princess. Her face didn’t have much makeup, just enough to amplify her beauty. She smiled with all her charms (and it was charming, indeed) to the boy in front of her.
That boy was their cousin, Giovanni Celesti. He was a young handsome teen that had an eccentric and lively attitude. He was visiting from Rome and staying at the Palazzo Celesti for the Carnival of Venice.
“It has been proven! Time travel is possible! It happens because of a supernatural force that pulls someone to a time and place they did not originate from but they needed to be there. It simply cannot be explained! It just happens!” Giovanni rambled.
“You talk like this in Rome?” Cassandra asked.
“Yes. Don’t you believe me? There had been instances where it was proven. It was said that in Versailles, France, two women in odd clothes were sighted. In a matter of minutes, they just disappeared. In Milan, it was said that a Signore traveled by coach and as he looked out his window, as if by magic, he saw a glimpse of a large monstrous establishment made of glass and metal, from the future!” Giovanni rambled once again, eyes wide open, arms waving in the air.
“That’s dangerous talk, Giovanni. The Catholic Church might accuse you and hang you of heresy or witchcraft talk.” Cassandra said.
“I believe that the Church is there to be our guides on religion but they shouldn’t order us around on what to believe in. That simply is unfair! Everybody has a right to stand up for their beliefs. That’s true faith, not some mandatory thing.” Carolina said.
A lady who was about 40 years old entered the room. She was in a big wig and nice clothes. She wasn’t young anymore but she still looked rather, dashing. She had heavy makeup and she looked so tall and powerful, like an aristocrat.
Maria Celesti, the mistress of the household, mother of Carolina and Cassandra.
Behind her, was their head of servant (a butler, as you may say), Antonio. He was bringing with him a tray of tea and biscuits.
“Don’t stay up late, my dears. Grand Ball tomorrow in celebration of the Carnival.” Maria said.
-
Venice. Ah, Venice. Present time, Venice.
Two days at Venice was successfully squeezed in All Time Low’s busy schedule. How they did it, don’t ask but the band was glad that they somehow did. They’ve been asking for a vacation and they finally got it. When they did, they got a huge bonus of having a Venetian vacation.
Palazzo Celesti, a small Venetian hotel, was the best one the band got during a peak season, the time of the Carnival of Venice.
Dawn was nearly breaking when two gondolas on a convoy stopped in front of a large open wooden door. On top of the wooden door was a wooden sign that says, ‘Palazzo Celesti’.
The palazzo was along the Grand Canal but the main entrance was at the back through a small canal.
Alex was the first one to unload the gondola. He jumped from the gondola to the platform, over the water. Jack came next. Then Rian, then it was Zack.
When the first gondola left, the second one pulled over right in front of the entrance and two Palazzo Celesti bellboys welcomed the band and they attended to their luggage which was on the second gondola.
Behind the large wooden door was a rose garden. In the middle of the garden was a large marble fountain glistening in the sun. The garden was surrounded by a stone wall and at the end of the garden was the building. They walked across the garden to building’s grand entrance.
“This way to the lobby, sir.” One of the bellboys said. He led the way and the band, All Time Low, followed the two bellboys.
“I got it. I’ll check-in.” Alex volunteered.
“Okay.” Jack said.
Alex approached the front desk while Jack, Rian, and Zack lingered behind him.
Against the wall, a large and old portrait of a lady hung.
“Who’s that?” Alex asked pointing to the portrait.
The front desk lady turned around and looked at what he was pointing at and turns back to him. “Signora Maria Celesti. Mistress of the palazzo, founder of the hotel.”
“Wow. It’s so old.”
“Yes. So, your reservation is two rooms?”
“Yeah.” Alex confirmed.
“Okay, your rooms are 401 and 402 with a lovely view of the rosarium. Here’s the key.” The lady said handing a pair of keys in a gold keychain that had the crest of Palazzo Celesti.
“Rosarium?” Alex asked.
“Yes. The rose garden in front.” The lady said matter-of-factly.
“Don’t you have a room that has a view of the Grand Canal?” Alex asked.
“I’m sorry, sir, it’s all booked up.” The lady said apologetically.
“Never mind. It’s fine.” Alex said taking the keys.
“First floor’s the lobby and restaurant. The restaurant extends to the terrace that has a nice view of the Grand Canal. There’s also a lobby lounge and bar at the first floor. Second floor’s the ballroom. Third and fourth are the rooms. The fifth floor is the spa and indoor pool. If you get lost or something, there will be staff around to help you out. Your luggage will be sent up and enjoy your stay.”
“Thanks.” Alex said. He turned around to face Jack, Rian, and Zack. “So…”
“So, Zack’s my roommate.” Rian told Alex.
“Okay.” Alex said throwing the keys to Room 401 to Zack. They headed to a grand staircase and climbed to the fourth floor.
“We should go buy our masks for the carnival celebration tonight.” Jack suggested. It was Tuesday, Mardi Gras.
“Yeah.” Zack seconded the motion.
“Okay.” Rian and Alex said in unison.
The four then divided to go to their rooms.
Zack and Rian entered their room. The interiors, like the rest of the palazzo, were 18th century.
Nothing in the hotel was changed or redecorated, except maybe some touches to make it hotel-ish, like the spa, pool, the restaurant, and the lounge and bar. Everything was Venetian antique but it wasn’t the rickety dilapidated old house you see that’s usually haunted. Everything was beautifully and perfectly preserved.
From the furniture to the portraits, even the wallpapers. Everything was a tribute to the past.
It was a large room. A large window that had a window seat, two desks, two beds, two footlockers at the end of each bed, a fireplace, a cabinet that revealed the TV when you opened it, another cabinet that when you open revealed the mini bar, and other furniture to make the room beautiful was seen.
Rian approached the fireplace and looked at a portrait above the fireplace.
Zack, on the other hand, went in the door that leads to the bathroom.
But it wasn’t the bathroom he saw. He saw another large room, a boudoir. And the furniture in the boudoir, the trunks, the wardrobes, everything, there were two of each.
The door that led to the bathroom was made of a mirror. Thank God the bathroom had modern showers but the interiors are still ancient.
Zack went out of the boudoir. He turned on the television but he focused on his backpack. He dropped it on his bed. He took out his Polaroid camera and said to Rian, “This room is a chick’s room!”
“Zack, look at this!” Rian called. His eyes did not avert from the portrait that hung above the fireplace.
It was a portrait of four. A lovely young lady (Cassandra) that looked extravagant in a pink gown with silver embellishments. A man in a powdered wig and 18th century clothes seemed to escort her. Another lovely young lady (Carolina) that looked less extravagant in an elegant blue dress with gold linings and beside her is another man wearing the same fashion the first man was wearing. Each of them held a Venetian mask that matched their clothes.
They were standing up straight with an interior salon as their background and they were smiling as if posing for the portrait.
Zack stood up beside Rian. “What?”
“Is it just me or the men in that painting looks like us?” Rian said.
Zack narrowed his eyes to examine the portrait but he wasn’t able to because as he blinked, he felt something inside him. Rian felt it too.
They felt so sad and depressed as if they were being ripped apart from something so dear to them. They didn’t know the cause.
Suddenly, as the depression grew and the sound of the television sounded more distant, both of them realized that everything around them became unreal, lifeless, a fake. It’s as if standing in the midst of a set of a play. The windows, the beds, the furniture, the walls, everything looked as if they were cardboard.
Then, suddenly, a strong gush of cold wind blew against their faces and they felt so refreshed and revitalized. Suddenly, it was all gone, the cardboard set, the depression. It was as if they were a new person.
Rian kept on staring at the portrait. It was a different portrait, now. It was outdoors at the Grand Canal. The two women from the previous portrait were the subjects of the new one and the two men were gone.
They wore simpler clothes. Carolina was now wearing a brown Brunswick driving a gondola. Cassandra, in a mantua, was the passenger of the gondola reading a book Carolina wrote.
Zack looked around. He didn’t realize that he was still holding his Polaroid.
The beds weren’t made. The windows were open. There was a chill wind that came in but not as cold as the wind that blew against their faces. The curtains were different and were drawn aside to let the sun in.
The sheets were different and Rian’s bed had lumps in it.
The clean desks had lots of paper on it with a quill dipped on ink. It was as if someone stayed in the room and housekeeping forgot to clean it.
Of course housekeeping didn’t clean it. They were in a different universe.
There was no housekeeping.
The restaurant was now a salon.
The lobby lounge and bar was now a great hall and dining area.
Some of the rooms on the third floor were for the servants and there were a few guest rooms left.
A library was now where the indoor pool was.
The spa was a recreation centre. It had a music room, a studio and such.
Rian blinked a few times. He rubbed his eyes and kept staring at the portrait. He didn’t see what was around him; all he did was to stare at the portrait. What was happening? Did he make a mistake the first time? Did he imagine the first portrait or was it the second portrait that he’s imagining?
Was he drunk? Did he drink? Not that he recalled. Maybe he overdosed on some medication. But then, he didn’t have medications of any sort. Did he take drugs? Not that he recalled either. He continued to examine the portrait.
Zack was getting dizzy. He looked around him. He was hallucinating, that’s for sure. He was confused. He couldn’t explain what just happen because he wouldn’t dare. He would take aside and ignore every non-logical explanation. He wouldn’t believe any of it.
Then, Carolina went out of the boudoir wearing nothing but her chemise and corset. She saw Zack and Rian. Her eyes were enlarged and she yelled of pure surprise.
Carolina ran back in the boudoir and slammed the door.
Cassandra, who was sleeping at one of the beds that Zack thought was lumpy, sat up. She was half asleep but once she saw what the yell was all about, she woke up fully.
Cassandra yelled as she pulled up the covers to cover her body.
-