sleeping Beauty

One morning in February 1905, Gloria stood in front of the gothic floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out through the stained glass. Outside the window was a blue sky. The southern manor owners might have planted cotton while the rainy season was coming. But the early spring in New Jersey is still shrouded in a threatening chill. Today’s sunshine is particularly bright. The gloomy forest in the distance seems to be boundless. Morning mist, showing its majestic appearance in the sun today.Gloria's mood improved a bit, she pulled the heavy dark green curtains, trying to open the window, large pieces of dust jumped out one after another, Gloria hurriedly stopped, watching the dust happy in the sun She coughed reflexively. While scanning the room for the buckwheat honey water that Betty brought her in the morning, she hurried away from the window sill. The more she coughed, the louder she coughed. She simply sat on the bed and waited for herself to calm down. I stubbornly wanted to see how long I could cough, and I didn't know who I was competing with.

It had been a year since Gloria had been at the castle, and she still vividly remembered that fateful day a year ago, when her mother lay in that Victorian bed with four posts, reinforced by brass, Covered with a canopy crocheted like a mosquito net, Gloria lifted the layers of lace curtains in front with trembling hands. The mother's pale face was bloodless, and her thin body was trapped in a thick Turkish wool blanket. The pillow surface was particularly rough against the thin cheekbones of the mother, and the white floor-to-ceiling curtain was covered with bright red blood. The father held his mother's hand and cried in mourning, and the relatives standing next to him also looked pained. Liya stood there blankly, followed by endless darkness in front of her eyes.After that day, the frail Gloria became weaker and weaker. The constant tears took away her vitality and seemed to take away her soul. The doctor came and said that it was a bronchial disease and she could not go outside. Went to get a hair dryer, left a pack of potions, and left.Afterwards, Gloria was sent to recuperate in this ancient building, a secluded retreat hidden in a deep forest, which was the only real estate left by her maternal grandfather, one of the first Englishmen to land in the New World At that time, he was still a young and vigorous young man who inherited England's ancient and noble surname - Saxony. He was dissatisfied with the old shackles of the traditional aristocracy and opened up a new world in this primitive continent by himself.This ancient Gothic building is hidden in the tall and dense woods, behind it is a deeper virgin forest, and a few miles ahead is a wilderness, a hundred miles away from the small town of Princeton where his father Wells lives.This is a three-story attic-style pointed building made of black and red bricks.But the air here is fresh, there are small animals in the forest that sometimes come to visit, and there is a shallow stream a few hundred feet behind the house. I have to say that everything here is suitable for recuperation.When Gloria was a child, she would come here with her mother Anna in the summer. This is the place where her mother grew up. Gloria now sleeps in her mother’s room when she was a girl. The room is decorated in a very beautiful Victorian style, with roses Colored fleur-de-lis French wallpaper, a charming Irish crystal chandelier, white lacquered furniture and a cherry wood dresser overlooking the rose garden outside the castle, a marble fireplace topped by a carved lily-of-the-valley mirror, several The tall narrow windows were hung with chintz and brocade curtains, and Anna's girlish bed—now Gloria's—was a beautiful old eighteenth-century sleigh bed, handed down from her ancestors, hanging White silk curtains, mostly white sheets and quilts.Gloria likes this room, who would have thought that there is such a small and exquisite room in this ghostly castle.

Gloria sat quietly by the bed, in a daze, holding the cold buckwheat honey water in her hand. This was her state for most of the year, when suddenly there was a sound of a horse snorting outside the window. The voice, Gloria knew it was the new gardener, Gloria was the only owner of the castle, Betty was her maid, there was a cook, an old porter, and the rest was There was only this gardener, a gardener, a groom, an errand servant, a maid, and her name was Brenda.Brenda has only been here for a month, and Gloria has long heard of her "name". The lively Betty often visits a small town two miles away. Whispering in Gloria's ears, Brenda's father was black, and was sold from Africa to South America, and then from South America to North America. People in the town said that her father killed the owner and fled to this remote place. The small town, and her mother is an aboriginal living here for generations, unwilling to leave this land, willing to become a slave, and finally fled here with Brenda's father.On a stormy night a month ago, Brenda's mother fell into a pool of blood, and her father was missing. Someone saw his back entering the forest and never came out again.Brenda was uncharacteristically calm, looking for work in town, but no one dared to hire her. People said she was cursed, the embodiment of the devil.Eventually Brenda settled down here, working as a valet.